Chapters Your name is Donovan Trellis. Age of 27, if your driver's license is to be believed- and if you can't trust the California DMV, well, who can you trust? Your appearance... well, you look in the mirror often enough to know that. Your chosen profession? Special effects for movies and television, specializing in pyrotechnics, stunt sequences and props.
Unfortunately, at the moment you happen to be “between opportunities”, which is what you say to people when you don't want to use that nasty “unemployed” word. Work has been harder to come by over the last couple of years, with production companies relying ever more on computer-generated special effects; what with it getting cheaper to substitute some 3D model for a valuable, squishy actor, and easier to have a bunch of pixels explode than a carefully-arranged real-world detonation, your particular craft is falling by the wayside of the march towards progress. The interminable glut of “Reality TV” shows hasn't exactly been helping, either- and heaven knows that particular genre could do with a heavy helping of explosives.
And so that's how you came to be walking down a quiet path in Equestria. You have the good fortune of living near a portal station and are on good terms with the transfer board, so you generally get to hop between realities whenever you like- and the crisp, clean air and simplicity of Equestria is a splendid change of pace from the noise and bustle of Sacramento. Last year you'd found this beautiful path that traveled near a wide lake not three miles from the Equestria-side portal station, and you've taken up the habit of going for jogs along it when troubles were on your mind... which seems to be all the time, lately. Not that you're in danger of ending up out on the street any time soon- you were smart enough to save up, to ride out the occasional dry spells of the entertainment industry- but without some sort of paid project to get the cash rolling in, it's not going to be long before you have to go back to waiting tables to keep the bills paid.
You hate waiting tables.
You're so wrapped up in thoughts of what studio to check with next, and considerations towards taking computer-animation courses and surrendering to the inexorable pull of progress, that you barely notice a strange, quiet sound coming from a half-hidden side path. A whimper of some kind? You're not sure, but it's enough to prod you into following. You note some recent lines dug into the soft dirt of this path, thin ones at that- wooden wheels, most likely, but attached to what?
You find the answer to that question pulled off to the side of the road, just past a thick bramble patch. A rickety wagon, about the size of a decent SUV back home, rests upon three wheels in a grassy field near a tree; the fourth wheel, sporting a sizable crack, is propped up against the wagon's side, a primitive jack holding up the wagon in its stead. Next to the wagon, an azure-colored female pony- of what sort you can't see, as her back is to you and her head is bowed- sits staring at the wagon; as you watch, her shoulders hitch, and she lets out a quiet sob.
The helpful nature of her species must have been rubbing off on you over the years, because you find yourself speaking without even thinking about it. “Um... do you need help?”
Your voice startles her, and she practically leaps into a defensive stance, her blue-white mane flying every which way as she does. Narrowed magenta eyes take in the sight of you, and you realize you're probably a strange sight at that- track suit, running shoes, your favorite hat. “Oh! Um.” she says after a moment, lightening up just a little. “N- no, there is no need, good human. The Great and Powerful Trixie has the situation well in hoof.”
The weirdness of her third-person self-referencing aside, you can tell that her words are edged with a mild contempt. You're not surprised- ponies have a range of personalities just like humans, and they're not all the friendly sort. You're prepared to take your leave, but pause for just a moment; there's something about her eyes- rimmed with wetness; yes, she's definitely been crying- that stands in stark contrast with the dismissiveness of her statement. You decide to go with your gut on this. “Are you sure?”
For just a second, anger seems to flash across her expression. Then her eyes flick back towards her wagon, and her shoulders slump. “Um... perhaps the Great and Powerful Trixie... does need some assistance....” she says quietly, the contempt vanishing from her voice.
“I could call for pathside service.” You reflexively pull out your phone. Three bars; not too shabby for a relatively rural area. Cellular phone service was a big hit when it was introduced to Equestria.
“Oh, um... no, that wouldn't be....” She pauses, then sighs. “The Great and Powerful Trixie... can't exactly afford a tow.”
“Well... uh.” An idea pops into your head. It's a lot more involved than you really like to get with a stranger, but you've been down on your luck in life a few times yourself, and a friendly helping hand would've really been welcome. So, “be the change you wish to see” and all that.... “Well... you know, I might be able to fix that for you.” You point at the wagon wheel.
“You- you could?” Her expression is at once suspicious and hopeful. You can understand- some stranger blunders along who just so happens to be able to solve her problem? But here you are, deus ex machina in a track suit.
“Yeah. Part of my job involves woodwork. I have saws, wood glue, setting tools. I don't know that I could manage a permanent fix, but at least you could keep rolling for a while.”
“I... I see.” She's calculating now. “How long would this take?”
“I use modern epoxies. I'd say....” You look at the wheel with a critical eye; you're not exactly a wagon expert, but years of propmaking have given you a decent amount of experience with woodworking. “Probably half an hour to remove the damaged part and shape a replacement; six hours minimum to set the epoxy well enough to take the stress of travel.”
“I see.” She hesitates for a moment. “Trixie... cannot offer very much for your services, Mister...?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Donovan Trellis.” You offer a hand, and after a moment, she places her hoof in it, and you shake. “We can work something out. I'm reasonable.”
“Well, Mr. Trellis. This... is a generous offer, and Trixie is in need of being mobile. But she would ask that she be able to see your work area before deciding on an agreement.”
“Sure, not a problem. Familiar with Sacramento?”
“Not especially....” Her expression is unreadable for a moment. “Trixie does not visit Earth much.”
“I'm not too far from the portal station. Ten-minute bus ride, tops.” You make to grab the wheel, but a luminous white aura surrounds it, and it lifts off of the ground. You turn to see Trixie's horn glowing. “Allow the Great and Powerful Trixie to handle that, Mr. Trellis,” she says.
She could be looking to help, or she could be nervous about allowing a stranger to handle her property. Either way you can understand. As she escorts you back towards the station, you realize it didn't even occur to you to ask if her wagon would be alright; there's not many large wild animals by the river, and it's unlikely that a wandering pony- or any human who passed evaluation for unrestricted travel here- would do anything to it. So you figure everything will be fine while you and your new customer are Earthside.
The clerks at the transfer station seem surprised to see you. “Mr. Trellis, back already?” Snowshoe asks, tilting his ears in confusion. “You're usually here for a few hours when you're jogging.”
“Unexpected customer.” You gesture to Trixie, who nods. “Indeed,” she replies. “Perhaps you have heard tales of the Great and Powerful-”
“Trixie. ID confirmed.” Cloudwisp, the other clerk, looks up from his retinal/cutie-mark scanner. “You're cleared to travel unrestricted, ma'am.”
“...well. Yes. Thank you.” It's clear she's a bit of an egotist, but it's not like you're unused to dealing with that type in showbusiness. At least she isn't demanding that you carry her coffee or something.
(-)
Living in Sacramento for a while meant you learned how to spot tourists, and Trixie is definitely a tourist when it comes to being Earthside. She's trying to hide it, of course, but the wide-eyed gazes at various landmarks and buildings through the bus's window belie her masquerade.
It's not as though she has to worry about being the only pony in town. Last census pegged the Sacramento pony population at just under 13%; more than a few equine-run businesses have popped up along the streets, plenty of them seeing as much two-legged traffic as four. The bus passes an intersection with half a dozen ponies amongst the crowd waiting for the light to change, all of them underneath umbrellas or raincoats to fend off the afternoon cloudburst.
Fortunately the rain is tapering off as you and Trixie disembark. Your home-slash-work-area is just up the road from the bus stop, and it's a quick walk to your side door, leading to the work room. You hold the door open for her. “After you, Miss Trixie,” you say.
She doesn't look impressed, but she does spare you a slight smile as she levitates the wheel through the door before proceeding after. Upon seeing your workspace, she pauses for a moment, looking at the various tools, the workbench in the corner, the pile of wood shavings next to it, and a handful of projects in various stages of completion. “Mr. Trellis, what is it you do for a living?” she asks. “Trixie does not believe she has asked you that.”
“Special effects and props for various media. I'm not sure how much movie or television viewing you do....”
“She does watch some television.” Trixie sets the wheel down against a leg of the workbench.
“Ever seen the series Negativity ?”
That gets a blink of surprise out of her. “She... watched it regularly until it was canceled.”
“I was on the stunt-coordination crew. Do you remember the episode 'Inbound/Outbound'?”
You've got her absolute attention now. “Jed MacThury's last episode? A guest appearance by Vinyl Scratch? Who could forget it?!”
“How about the chase sequence?”
Her jaw drops. “That... that was your work?”
“A large part of it. Spent the better part of a week lying awake at night, working over how to get a Bugatti to drive through a packed nightclub and flip over the DJ's table just so .”
“And then Jed gets out of the car, and looks at Scratch, and says in that deadpan drawl of his, 'Do you take requests?' ” Trixie is laughing a little now, her haughty expression reduced, and you notice it makes her look rather cute. “...yes,” she says after a moment, re-composing herself. “Trixie does remember that. It was an impressive piece of work, she must say.”
“Thanks.” You're not really the type to brag, but that was one of your best efforts, and seeing a fan of the show acknowledge it feels pretty nice. You hoist the wheel up onto the workbench and give it an examination under the table light. “Okay, good,” you say. “The rest of the wheel is still pretty sound, for the most part. With a proper replacement piece it should last for a while yet.”
“Trixie is glad to hear that.” She pauses for a moment. “What is it you charge for your services, Mr. Trellis?”
“My usual labor rate for woodwork is forty dollars an hour. But... I haven't gotten to work with my hands for a while, so I'll halve that and add in materials. I'll need to use one board-foot of hickory, a small amount of epoxy- let's call it twenty-five dollars, or....” You do the mental math quickly; Equestrian bits are pegged at about 1.3 to the dollar, and always round up... “twenty bits.”
She lets out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. “Trixie finds that entirely fair, Mr. Trellis. May she watch you work?”
“Sure.” And so she does, sitting in a dignified fashion on a stool as you cut away the cracked wood, trace an outline of the shape of the wheel, and then cut and lathe the hickory to match the missing piece. It looks like you haven't lost your touch- it only takes you three tries to get the new piece to fit in tightly. You cut a couple of small grooves into each side of the piece, then apply a layer of epoxy and wedge it back in. “There, now it's just a matter of waiting,” you tell the pony.
“You said six hours, yes?” She glances out one of the windows at the late afternoon sky. “It will be dark by then... perhaps Trixie could stop by tomorrow to retrieve the wheel and give you your payment?”
“That wouldn't be a problem. Extra time for the epoxy to set, too.”
“Indeed.” She hops down from the stool, starts towards the door, then stops for a moment. Then she turns, doing an only marginally-adequate job at hiding a look of chagrin. “Trixie is... unfamiliar with the public-transportation routes here. Would you see her back to the portal station?”
You sort of anticipated this. Tourist. “Sure.”
The sun has already disappeared behind some of the skyscrapers and is well on its way to the horizon by the time you arrive at the portal station; you can just see Venus in the sky, and the lights on Tower Bridge have kicked on. Trixie seems to admire the sight for a moment before turning to you. “Trixie thanks you again, Mr. Trellis,” she says, reaching up with a hoof; you shake it gently. “She will return at nine in the morning tomorrow... that should be ten here, yes?”
You nod. “That's right. I'll bring it here and have it waiting for you.”
“That would be most appreciated.” She's genuinely smiling now, and you can't help but think that she ought to do it more often; it really softens her face, making her look almost sweet. “Trixie will see you in the morning, Mr. Trellis. Until then.”
“G'night.”
(-)
This is the moment of truth. You're standing there, in casual clothing this time, watching as Trixie sets the wheel back on the axle, then secures it with the bolts. Not even a creak from the wood as she removes the jack and lets the wagon's weight sit on the wheel. She settles herself into the harness and pulls it around in a couple of circles experimentally, then goes back to the wheel to give it a look.
And then you're treated to what might be the most hilarious sight you've ever seen: This dour, haughty pony is literally bouncing around, yelping “Yes yes yes yes!”. Then she seems to remember you're there and hastens to collect herself, clearing her throat. “Ahem. Well, Mr. Trellis, it appears that your work is indeed of good quality. Trixie is....” She seems to search for words for a moment, then her expression softens. “Trixie is very grateful for your help. You have saved her no small amount of difficulty.” She climbs up the back of the wagon and returns in a few seconds with a small bag. “Your payment, as agreed upon,” she says, levitating twenty small golden coins out of the bag and into your hand.
You really hope that the bag doesn't hold the entirety of her funds, because you notice that it seems much less weighed-down without her payment. You sort of feel guilty even taking it, despite the fact that you can use the money yourself- but it's pretty clear she's the proud type, and refusing the payment would probably be seen as a slight. You pocket the coins. “Thank you, Miss Trixie,” you say. “Glad I could be of help.”
She gets back into her wagon's harness and begins heading down the road, and you make your way back towards the portal station, feeling rather happy with yourself.
(-)
It's three in the afternoon and you're busy looking through want-ads. Job prospects aren't looking any better and your bank account is not as healthy as you'd like. In fact, fixing a wagon wheel is the only solid income you've had in the last month, and twenty-five bucks is not exactly a windfall.
On a lark, you'd looked up information on the “Great and Powerful” Trixie. Google.equ had quite a bit listed- seems she's a showpony and illusionist, something of a rising star at one point until she almost entirely dropped off the map, with only a handful of references to an issue in Ponyville a few years back giving clues as to why. But there's a few recent billings featuring her in a couple of relatively big cities, so maybe she's got a comeback planned. You hope it works out for her- sure, she's got the typical starlet attitude, but beneath that there seems to be a halfway-decent pony.
You're interrupted by your phone ringing. An unlisted number is calling you; used to be you'd let the voicemail service catch those, but you've got your contact information out on enough recruitment sites to where you don't dare skip a potential lead. You take the call. “Donovan Trellis speaking.”
There's a moment of silence, and you begin to wonder if it's a prank call, before a familiar voice speaks up. “Ah, um... yes. Mr. Trellis? You speak to the Great and Powerful Trixie.”
Well, here's a surprise. “Miss Trixie? Good to hear from you again. I hope the wheel is still working well?”
“Yes, yes, quite so- almost like new, thank you. It has served Trixie well.” Another pause. “Mr. Trellis, Trixie would like to offer you an employment opportunity.”
“I... see. Is there something else you need repaired?”
“No, no. Are....” There's another pause. “Perhaps you are not a regular visitor to Equestria and do not know of Trixie's reputation as a master showmare.”
“Actually, miss, I did look you up recently. From what I've seen, you're a traveling illusionist and magician?”
“Yes, that is correct. And... well.” Another pause. “Trixie has decided that she should... reinvent her show. Modernize it, after a fashion. Something that could appeal to both ponies and humans.”
“I see. And you'd like my help with this?”
“Y... yes, Mr. Trellis, she would.” She sounds almost... scared? Maybe she's just not that used to dealing with humans, or maybe she's trying to overcome her pride. “She can pay you a fair wage for your expertise, Mr. Trellis, as well as a percentage of profit from shows. If you are free of other obligations, of course.”
You look down at your want-ads, and note how you were getting desperate enough to circle listings from restaurants seeking wait staff. “I am amazingly free of other obligations at this current time, Miss Trixie. When would you like to meet to discuss this?”
Commerce has always been one of the most changeable aspects of civilization, and it didn't take long after the Discovery for dining places on Earth to adapt to a sudden stream of non-human clientele. One trend that had started out in the South spread pretty quickly- restaurant menus now marked herbivore-specific food like flowers, hay and such with a hoof, and and omni/carnivore-specific food like meat and starch with a hand. It made ordering from a mixed menu a whole lot easier.
Of course, it doesn't help you decide just what you want to eat, and that's the dilemma you're facing now in this diner. Finally, in a fit of frustration you just randomly poke at the menu with a finger. “Okay, there,” you say. “Hash browns and eggs on toast.” It's a good thing you like hash browns and are okay with eggs. “All right then,” the waitress says. “And you?”
“Trixie will have the grilled peppers and dandelion on sourdough, and a side of hay fries.”
The waitress picks up the menus and heads towards the kitchen. You sip at your coffee while the pony takes a long drink of orange juice. “So how long have you been in showbusiness, Miss Trixie?” you ask.
“Close to fifteen years.” She leans back in her seat. “Trixie... took a bit of a break for a short while, which may have not been the best idea. Momentum is key in the business, as she's sure you know.”
You nod. “Though there's also something to be gained from starting anew.”
“Indeed.” She smiles slightly. “And what of you, Mr. Trellis?”
“Seven years. After I got my associate's degree in media, I worked my way up the ladder, taking small jobs in television programs and advertisements, building up my resume. Negativity was my big break, but I also did some work in movies, like Past, Present, Pony .”
“So you have worked on pony-oriented productions?”
“Yes. I got some good advice from a pony named Wheatfield. He told me that ponies like spectacle and action, but aren't big on direct confrontations, violence or anything that can be seen as seriously threatening.”
“True, in a general sense. Of course there is variation, but Trixie is certain you understand that.” She fixes those deep-purple eyes on you. “Mr. Trellis, Trixie believes you can be of great help to her in this endeavor. She checked your working credits before calling you. You obviously have a strong background in pyrotechnics, staging and presentation, and stuntwork, and you have experience with both human- and pony-directed entertainment. So....” She extends a hoof. “Shall we work together?”
You shake the offered hoof. “Certainly.”
You and Trixie go over the specifics after the food is served. Considering she seemed nearly flat-broke when you met her, she's promising you what really is a fairly decent wage- not Hollywood-scale pay, but at the very least it'll pay your bills and help replenish your bank account. Not to mention, working on live stage shows is something new and interesting to you.
Plus, seriously. To hell with waiting tables. You hate having to be subservient to jerks, or cheapskates, or indecisive morons like... well, you, when you've got a menu in front of you. You saw that look in that waitress's eyes.
It's when you've just finished breakfast and are waiting for the check when Trixie springs an unexpected question on you. “Mr. Trellis, are you aware of any affordable places for rent here in Sacramento?”
“I, um....” You think. “Not in the immediate area. Most of what was available before the Discovery has been nabbed by ponies who wanted to live close to the portal station for whatever reason.” You consider for a moment. “I was under the impression that you were living in your wagon.”
“She is, but....” She gets a distant look for a moment. “Trixie... wishes to expand her horizons, to see new things. Sacramento does seem to be a rather lovely city.”
“It's got its nice points, sure.” You have an idea, though broaching it the wrong way might foul up this great job you've only just managed to get. Still, it strikes you as a pretty darn good idea, so.... “I'm not sure if you saw when you visited, Miss Trixie, but I do have an extended parking space and garage.”
She blinks. “You... you do? No, Trixie did not see that.”
“Yeah. Ought to be big enough for your wagon to fit, if you'd like to park it there for a while. I don't own a car, so I've got no use for it. I wouldn't even charge rent, since you wouldn't be taking up any space in my house, or any electricity or water.”
“It... it would make collaboration much easier, wouldn't it?” Again that calculating look. You're thinking that this is a mare used to saving money where she can- makes sense, being an independent entertainer. But there's still some trepidation when she looks at you. It's not likely she's speciesist- she contacted you , and she was obviously well-aware of you being human- so maybe she has some trust issues.
Seems today's the day for practicality to win out, though. “...all right,” she says after a moment. “She will need time to prepare her wagon for the move, and of course there will be paperwork to file with the transfer agency. And she imagines the city will have forms it will want her to fill out as well?”
You can't help but chuckle. “Miss Trixie, if there's one consistency I've found between Earth and Equestria, it's bureaucracy.”
(-)
Trixie had thought you were kidding about the bureaucracy thing. Five hours of standing in various lines and filling out countless forms at City Hall cured her of that notion. But when it was over, she had what she'd come for- paperwork proving herself a legal alien resident of Sacramento, California, United States of America, Earth. She can't vote yet; she'd have to be naturalized for that, and that's a MUCH longer process, but she'll be paying taxes and can take advantage of all the various services the city offers. She trots up to you- you had to be here for a lot of the proceedings, since you're essentially going to be “hosting” her for the time being- with a self-satisfied smile. “At last, this seemingly-interminable process has come to an end,” she says. “Trixie must thank you for your help, Donovan.”
You're on a first-name basis now, since you're working for her and she's subletting from you. You'd been worried that she'd expect you to repeat that “Great and Powerful” title when addressing her, but she didn't object to you just calling her Trixie. With all the legal stuff handled, you both head back to your place, where her wagon is already parked. She hops inside it for a moment to file away all the paperwork. Curiosity strikes, and you take a quick look inside while she has the door open- it looks pretty cluttered inside, lots of things haphazardly hanging off of hooks on the walls or stuffed in half-open drawers, a small flat-screen television secured next to a folding bed, and what seems to be a couple of old posters stuck to what little open wall space is present.
You're smart enough to not be caught peeping when she comes back outside. With all the technicalities out of the way, Trixie wants to get right to work on revamping her show; the pile of notebooks and loose paper she's levitating along with her is surprising. It turns out this pony is a judicious note-taker and fastidious planner when it comes to her various tricks and techniques.
It takes your living-room table to hold all of her various notes and sketches, along with a pot of coffee and a couple of mugs. In painstaking detail, she goes over each component of her act; the parts involving magic go right over your head- being a typical human, you could write everything you really know about magic on your thumbnail, and still have room for a dirty limerick- but the complexity of the physical portions of it astonishes you. Hidden hoof-pedals, small switches she can surreptitiously move with arcanokinesis, secret pockets and compartments... it's clear she either studied under a master, or did an exceptional job of figuring all this out independently. You're beginning to wonder what she even needs your help with.
But as you form a picture of the entire act in your mind, you start to see the holes. Trixie's got some serious technical chops, but she's sorely lacking in pacing. Every act is a showcase of her skill, but there's no breathing room for the audience, no buildup, no sort of narrative to follow... it's basically “Look what I can do!” played across an hour of stage time.
The hard part is going to be telling her. She's proud of this act, you can easily see that. Pointing out flaws is likely to be a delicate operation. Fortunately for you, you've worked with some of the worst prima donnas in showbusiness, even if only on a tertiary basis... there's no way Trixie could measure up to the irrational demands of some of the “stupor stars”, as you like to call them, that have decorated the big or small screen.
But now it looks like she wants to go and surprise you again. Sure, there's some anger and disappointment on her face as you detail your opinions of where the act could use some work- but she's visibly swallowing it, and you swear you can almost hear her reminding herself that this is what she hired you for. This is good, in your mind. You won't deny that you have your own emotional attachments to your work- as awesome as that scene in Negativity was, you think it would've been about twenty percent cooler if they'd left in the mannequins- but a true mark of a professional is the ability to take constructive criticism and work towards bettering the production.
The next thing you know, it's late evening, the coffee pot is empty and the sun's long since set. A long yawn from Trixie seals it- it's time to pack it in. “We've made some progress today, Trixie thinks, Donovan,” she says. “But ponies and humans both make mistakes when tired, so perhaps we should call it a day and get some rest.”
“That works for me.” You help her gather up her notes, which she levitates out to her wagon with her. She gives you a brief smile before closing the door. You have yourself a quick snack before heading to your bedroom. You're exhausted, from nothing more than half a day of paperwork and several hours of brainstorming, arguing and collaborating. You can't help but think one thing as your weary head hits your pillow:
This is going to be one interesting job.
(-)
You've noticed something over the last month and a half you've been working with Trixie. Though she said she wanted to broaden her horizons by moving to Sacramento, she certainly doesn't seem particularly eager to actually go out into the city. She does her own shopping, of course, but that seems to be about it; whenever she's not brainstorming or designing with you, she's shut up in her wagon.
It is certainly none of your business what your employer does on her off-hours. But that hasn't stopped you from surreptitiously leaving out pamphlets for various shows, events and other functions that are within easy walking distance or a few minutes away by bus. Nothing seems to have taken her fancy yet, though.
You're a different case. Apparently the one-and-only DJ PON-3, more commonly known as Vinyl Scratch, is headlining a massive party at the Ace of Spades tonight. Club and dubstep- or dubtrot, as the ponies like to call it, naturally- have never been your favorite genres, but you became a huge fan of Scratch's while she was on the set of Negativity; the fact that the red-eyed, alabaster-coated pony was one of the most down-to-earth and friendly celebrities you've ever had the pleasure to meet only cemented your fandom. When you saw the advertisement, you likely broke a speed record at ordering a ticket.
As you're getting set to leave, you pause for a moment. It feels silly, but you feel compelled to leave a note for Trixie; she has a key to the place, one you gave her in case she needed something, and if she wants to talk to you, you'd rather save her the trouble of calling. So you quickly pen a short message and clip it to the refrigerator where it's easy to see, grab your wallet and autograph book, and head out.
The party is even better than you'd hoped for. Great music, a huge crowd, pricey drinks... well, maybe the “pricey” part isn't so good, but the drinks themselves are worth every penny. More than that, Vinyl Scratch actually remembers you from the show- “you were that guy who walked me through the stunts” were her exact words, but hey, it still counts as being remembered- and she's more than glad to give you an autograph. When everything closes down at eleven PM, you've got a sweet buzz going that survives the taxi ride back home.
Oddly enough, Trixie is sitting on the front lawn, staring up at the sky. She's obviously surprised to see you climb- well, stumble, maybe, just a little- out of the taxi. “Donovan?” she asks. “Are you all right?”
“Fine as pony hair,” you laugh. You actually learned that line at the party; it's a lot funnier to you now, for obvious reasons.
“Ahhh.” She chuckles. “Someone has sampled quite a bit of the old spirits tonight.”
“I'm not as think as you drunk I am.” You snicker, sitting down next to her. “Kind of a cold night to be stargazing, isn't it?” you ask, looking up. “Heck, can't even see the stars here in the city.”
“Trixie was... thinking.”
Her tone of voice should be a clear giveaway that she'd rather not talk about it, but you're a talkative drunk. “What about?”
She's quiet for a moment, looking away. It's just starting to dawn on you that you probably should've kept your mouth shut when she turns back to you. “Did you go to that music show tonight?” she asked. “Where Vinyl Scratch was performing?”
“Yeah.”
“Did... you enjoy yourself?”
You laugh to yourself, leaning back. “Most fun I've had in, like, six months.”
“I see.” She returns to looking at the ground. “Donovan, Trixie is... not the most outgoing pony you might meet.”
“But you've been in showbusiness for, what was it, a decade and a half?”
“Yes, but... on the stage, the Great and Powerful Trixie seeks to amaze and impress her audience. Off of the stage... Trixie is, perhaps, less able to connect with others.”
Now it makes sense. She wouldn't be the first celebrity you've worked with who felt more comfortable with others in her “stage persona”. Jed MacThury was like that at one point, you'd heard, though by the time you'd made his acquaintance he was a lot more outgoing. “Well, it doesn't gotta be that way,” you tell her.
“Yes, but....” She sighs. “Trixie is uncertain where or how to start.”
“How about the easy way?”
She blinks at you. “What do you mean?”
“Okay. You can't not have seen the pamphlets I put out.”
“Yes. Your subtlety there approaches that of a very large sledgehammer.” She gives you a smirk.
“I work with explosions; sometimes you need something big and un-ignorable.” You grin. “But anyway. Pick something that interests you. I'll go with you.”
She blinks, her jaw dropping for a moment. “You'll what?”
“Go. With. You.” You shrug. “I mean, if you're all right with that. I just figure that new situations are easier to handle when you've got someone you know nearby.”
“It... but, that... it's....” You can't help but think it's cute when she gets flustered; she's normally so self-assured. “Well! If it is you speaking, Donovan, and not the alcohol, then perhaps Trixie will take you up on this offer.”
“Good, then. Pick your poison and we'll quaff it together!” You laugh uproariously for a moment, before your body suddenly decides it hates you. “...errrgh. Right. Speaking of poison, maybe I'd better go have a lie-down.”
She snickers. “Ah, always the regrets afterwards,” she says. “Do you need help?”
“No, no, so long as somebody holds the planet still.” You manage to get to your feet and stagger towards the door, with Trixie's quiet laughter following. “Sleep well, Donovan,” she calls after you.
“G'night.” And, thank God or Jesus or Buddha or Celestia- hell, if they all want to get on stage together and take a bow, you'll applaud- you manage to make it to your bed and get something resembling undressed before utterly crashing.
(-)
You've never admitted it to her, but the way Trixie has rigged her wagon to drop loose a fully-functional, if rather small, stage has always amazed you. She insists that no magic is involved, that it's all engineering and machinery, and the chances you've had to look over the rigging seem to confirm it- but that doesn't make it any easier to understand. You figure she's not likely to tell you how she built or got it if you ask, though, so you've resigned yourself to this being one of life's little mysteries.
At the moment Trixie is setting that stage up, and you're prepping a piece of human technology she hasn't had access to before- a video camera. You've explained to her that there's nothing like watching your own performance from another perspective to give you insight, and she's willing to give it a try. You've directed her to go through a snippet of her usual performance, ten minutes of various tricks, with you playing the part of audience volunteer.
Your impressions were right- it really is a long demonstration of “look what I can do”. And when Trixie sees the playback on your television, she starts to understand it as well. “But... I....” she stammers, watching herself prance across the stage. “This... this isn't how Trixie intended the show to be....”
You pause the playback. “Have you had anyone help you with your act before?”
“No. Once I....” She clears her throat. “Once Trixie left home, she worked mostly alone. She sometimes performed with other acts during the early days, but never with a partner.” She sighs. “It shows, doesn't it, Donovan?”
“I'm afraid so.” You lean back a little. “Look, Trixie. I'm not criticizing your technical or magical abilities. Truth be told, you've got a lot of skill. But if you want to perform for others, human or pony, there are expectations they'll have that you need to meet if you want to really hold their interest.”
“Trixie has always wanted to show others her skill.” Her voice is small now, and it actually kind of hurts to hear it that way. “But... she's little more than a braggart. She thought she'd learned from Ponyville....”
“What happened in Ponyville?”
The question shocks her out of her state, and she immediately clams up. “Trixie... would prefer to not speak of that incident,” she says sharply.
And that pretty well sets the tone for the morning, thanks to you managing to put your foot in your mouth with four simple words. It's a long few hours until lunch, with communication limited to short sentences back and forth as you install a few of the new pyrotechnic emitters you and she developed on her stage. You're finished a few minutes before your usual mid-day break, and you both decide to “punch out”, as it were, early; she immediately retreats into her wagon, and you head into your kitchen. A leftover burger goes in the microwave, and you pour yourself a glass of cola to go with it. Once it's done reheating, you take the burger back out, set the plate on the stand-up bar, and are just setting yourself down on one of the stools....
“Donovan?”
You look up. Trixie is there in your kitchen, looking pensive. “May... may Trixie sit?” she asks, pointing at the other stool. You nod, and she nimbly hops up onto it, barely moving it as she does. It seems they all can do that; earth, pegasus, unicorn- it's some pony trick you've never figured out. Once she's settled herself, she takes in a deep breath. “Donovan, Trixie must apologize to you. Snapping at you like that was impolite, to say the very least. You meant no harm by your question.” She offers a meek smile. “Will you forgive her?”
You chuckle. “What's to forgive? I was more upset at myself than you. I should know better than to pry.”
“Not at all, Donovan. If we are to work well together, we must be open with each other. Though Trixie does not wish to speak of... that particular place at the moment, she can at least be understanding if asked of it.”
“Well... no harm, no foul. Good call for you?”
She smiles. “A good call for her, indeed.”
You grin. “Okay then. How about lunch?”
She gives your meal an uncomfortable glance. “So long as you don't proffer this pony a hamburger,” she says.
“Please, everybody knows better than that by now. I've got salad.”
Turns out Trixie likes green peppers and tomatoes as much as you do. Not so big on ranch dressing, though, but oil and vinegar are fine. And so you have lunch together, and as you head back out to the wagon, things seem a little lighter, a little more comfortable, than they had before today.
You're okay with that.
(-)
It's like this mare is a never-ending fountain of surprises. The leaflet she's laid down in front of you wasn't one you'd selected- in fact, this is the first you've seen of the event. “The Rhythm In Darkness Tour: Fighting Gravity and Team iLuminate” , the title reads. Now, you've seen these guys on television, and their acts were incredible- but you'd had no idea they were touring, let alone together. But that leaves some questions. “Have you heard of these guys before?” you ask Trixie.
“Not until she found the leaflet.”
“Have you heard the music they use?”
“Yes. It is... not exactly what Trixie customarily listens to.”
“And you're aware they play it loudly. And use flashing lights.”
“If the videos she has seen are any indication, very much so.”
“But this is what you want to go see?”
“Absolutely.”
“...why?”
“Because Trixie must immerse herself in new and different things if she is to grow, yes?” She gestures at the leaflet. “She researched these two groups. Young men and women, who worked hard and developed shows that are unique and breathtaking. Trixie wants to see that, to feel that energy firsthoof. If she must endure flashing lights and loud music, so be it.”
You glance back down at the leaflet. “But it's tomorrow night. Probably sold out by now.”
“Which is why Trixie took the liberty of purchasing two tickets when she found this advertisement six days ago.” She levitates them out from underneath her mane and shows them to you. “Fifth row, center-right. Not a bad vantage point.”
“But it's down in San Mateo,” you tell her. “Going to be a little tough to get there by bus.”
“Ah.” She frowns. “Perhaps you might rent a car? You would, of course, have to drive.” She gives you a grin. “Trixie does not have a motor vehicle license.”
You think it over. Renting a compact car for a trip down to San Mateo wouldn't cost much at all- it'd be cheaper than a taxi, at the very least. And your driver's license is still valid. Finally, your “what the hell, go for it” gland kicks in, and you nod. “Tomorrow it is, then. Be ready at five; there'll probably be traffic.”
“Certainly.”
(-)
Now, you've seen some pretty good shows in your day. But the thing is, due to a variety of reasons, you've always gone to those shows alone. Sure, you talked about them with friends afterwards, but you never had someone you knew there in the audience with you to experience it alongside you.
Turns out that makes it even better.
Trixie can hardly sit still in the passenger's seat. She's flitting between bouncing ideas off of you and chattering about the show like she's a crazed moth in a spotlight testing area, and you want to get the car back to the rental agency before she shakes it to pieces or something. She actually volunteers to pay for a taxi from the agency back to your place- she's in such a hurry to get some ideas down on paper that she doesn't want to wait for a bus.
She practically throws the fare money at the taxi driver before leaping out and galloping up to her wagon. By the time you get inside the house, she's brought in a notepad and pen and is scribbling furiously. She quizzes you on lighting techniques, on blacklights, on setting routines to music- things you haven't had a whole lot of experience with, but you're willing to brainstorm and research. You figure that once she gets all this new stuff out of her brain and onto paper, she'll calm down a bit and begin looking for sensible ways to work this into her act. In the meantime, though, it's hilarious to see her writing like a madmare.
You've brought her coffee and toast and left her to her devices, taking the opportunity to get changed into more comfortable clothes. Her writing binge lasts well past eleven at night, and both of you are yawning heavily by the time she finally stops. “Trixie... can barely hold up the pen,” she groans, letting the writing instrument drop onto the table. “Perhaps it is time to sleep on all these ideas, and develop them further in the morning.”
She packs up her notepad and pen, and starts towards the door, then stops and turns. “Donovan,” she says, “Trixie... very much enjoyed herself today. She doesn't know if she would have gone without you.” She smiles. “Thank you.”
“I had a lot of fun myself,” you tell her. “We should do it again sometime.”
She nods slowly. “Yes... we definitely should. Good night, Donovan.”
“G'night.”
The next morning dawns way too bright and way too early for your tastes, bringing you out of a sound and restful sleep- but hey, you're still alive, and that's the best way to start a new day. The first thing you notice as you get out of bed and get dressed is the smell of... coffee? You don't remember setting the coffeemaker last night.
The answer to the conundrum is sitting on your couch. Trixie looks up from her notepad as she levitates a mug to her lips. “Good morning, Donovan,” she says. “Trixie hopes you don't mind- she took the liberty of brewing some coffee. She wanted to get an early start on the day.”
“I don't mind at all.” You don't, really. All else aside, the look of relaxed contemplation on Trixie's face is a welcome sight... in fact, it has the unexpected effect of making you smile. You sit down next to her with your own mug of coffee, and the two of you get to work.
(-)
There is, of course, a downside to having a pony in your home for extended lengths of time... and at the moment, you're vacuuming up that downside off of the couch. Fortunately, pony hairs tend to be very light and don't easily get caught on fabric, so it's just a matter of doing a thorough run of your vacuum across the living room.
Your vacuum happens to be loud, so it takes you a little while to hear Trixie trying to get your attention; finally, her voice gets through the whir of the motor, and you look up to see her waving a hoof at you. You click off the unit and wait for the noise to die down. “Sorry,” you tell the unicorn. “What is it?”
She looks a little sheepish. “Trixie has apparently forgotten to inform you that she has a spell to remove stray pony hair.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You're kidding. There's a spell for that?”
“Of course! Shedding is not exactly a new problem for we ponies.” She gives you a teasing grin.
You put the vacuum aside and lean against the couch to watch. Her horn glows, and her off-white aura seems to envelop every last one of her azure hairs still left on the couch and rug; after a moment, they levitate up and gather together into an indistinct clump- like a dandelion's seed puffs in reverse- before Trixie floats them into the kitchen and deposits them in the trash can.
It's magic. Mundane, utilitarian magic, not unlike everything you've watched her do while working on her act... and yet you stand there utterly floored. She notices, and chuckles. “You've seen Trixie do this sort of thing before,” she reminds you.
“Yeah, but....” You shrug, rubbing the back of your neck, trying not to look too embarassed. “Sorry. I've just never seen magic used quite that way before.”
She chuckles again, but in a less teasing way, giving you a slight smile. “Trixie sometimes forgets that you humans still aren't quite used to magic,” she replies. “At least, anything more complex than the basic arcanokinesis unicorns use.”
“Yeah... you'd think as long as it's been since the Discovery, it'd be less 'new', but....”
She nickers quietly. “Trixie doesn't mind. That look of wonder is rather enjoyable, all things considered.” She seems to consider for a moment, her expression going from amused to thoughtful. “And as far as the shedding... well. Perhaps Trixie has been... neglegent. You allow her into your home; it would behoove her to partake in its upkeep. From this point on, she will handle cleaning of the living room and kitchen every Wednesday.”
“You don't have to, really; it's no bother....”
“Please. Trixie insists.” She levels a serious gaze on you now, and you realize this is a point of pride to her; she wants to contribute. “All right then,” you decide. “But if you're going to handle the kitchen, then that should entitle you to full use of it. Refrigerator included.”
She seems to think for a moment, then nods. “The coldbox Trixie uses is rather... insufficient. It would be nice to be able to buy in bulk. Thank you, Donovan.”
“Sure thing.” You glance up at the clock; it's half past noon. “Speaking of the kitchen... feel like lunch?”
“Trixie could absoutely stand a bite or two to eat. What do you have?” She follows you into the kitchen to see.
(-)
It's seven in the evening, and you and Trixie are ready to start your first serious dry run of her redesigned act. For six days, the two of you have been refitting Trixie's stage, installing new light fixtures, and tweaking various concepts. She's agreed to start small for now, incorporating new ideas into her previous repertoire. You have the camera set up, and once you've got it recording, you nod for her to start.
She starts off with a few simple tricks. Basic card tricks, illusionism, prestidigitation- is there a different word for that when you don't have digits? Mental note to self, look that up - all done a little slower than normal. After a plain runthrough of that, she redoes a couple of the tricks with the improved lighting. You're not in an optimal environment- street lights and neighbors' porch lights are giving more illumination than you'd like- but when she does that card-shuffle trick in front of the blacklight, and it makes the cards look almost otherworldly as they flit by, you realize that you're onto something here.
Next up is her image-crafting. She's let you in on her secret, here- the lines she uses for her floating art are arcanokinetically-formed strings of colored smoke, and the sparkles are just levitated behind them. With that in mind, you came up with the idea of using different types of smoke in combination with colored lights and blacklighting to provide three-dimensional appearances to her images, and allow for color-shifts and movement much more complex than she's currently capable of.
For the first test, Trixie is going to use a couple of the hoofpedal-rigged lights. With care, she forms a complex series of smokestrings behind her that are barely visible- and would be invisible in optimal stage lighting for this- then begins to lean forward. The effect is to make her look as though she's looming over the audience, but it also hides the fact that she's gently pressing the hoofpedals. The deep-red spotlight just in front of her gives her an almost demonic glow as it brightens, and the blacklight just behind her begins to illuminate the intricate smoke-sculpture- a spooky-looking tribal mask of some sort, struck with bright greens and yellows and deep reds, looking for all the world like it had been painted on a backdrop instead of crafted from particulates. Then Trixie brings the spotlight up to full and opens her eyes wide, while dissipating the smoke-mask with a soft “puff” of displaced air, spreading multicolored wisps all around behind her to be whisked away by the breeze.
It is quite honestly impressive, and you can't help but clap.
As she releases the hoofpedals, she actually smiles shyly. “Was it good?” she asks. “Oh! Show Trixie the recording, Donovan! She wants to see how it looked!”
You're more than happy to oblige, and the result is a thrilled pony stomping her hooves on your carpet. “It's even more impressive than Trixie imagined!” she exclaims. “She shivered just watching it! Oh, there is so much we can do with these techniques!”
You're back outside within a minute, right back to work. Although lately you're having a hard time calling it “work”, what with all the fun you're having.
(-)
“Donovan! You're back!” Trixie hops up off of your couch and practically canters up to you as you come through the door, eyeing the large envelope in your hand. “The posters were ready?!” she gasps. “Let Trixie see!”
You open the manila envelope, and Trixie levitates one of the 27-by-39-inch posters out. The glossy sign hangs in midair as she gazes at it. “This... this is so much better than the posters Trixie has had made before,” she says quietly.
“Well, I don't imagine you had access to digital image manipulation software then,” you reply with a chuckle, taking out another poster to give it a good look. The image of Trixie seems to practically leap from the paper- springing for the professional photo shoot was definitely the way to go- and the background is a nice abstract montage of the various tricks you and she have come up with for the first of her new acts. She's decided to start somewhat small, a “hoof in the water” as she called it, a half-hour show over three days in Mareheim. Depending on the reception of the new act, you and she will decide on how to adapt and expand upon it.
The days slip by quickly as you fine-tune and double-check every aspect of the act, and before you even know it, it's four days before you're due in Mareheim. You're a little nervous- you've never actually done much traveling in Equestria, only visited from time to time, and only the area surrounding the portal station. Still, you should have no trouble with the trip, with Mareheim being a mountain resort town with both its own nearby portal station and human-sized lodgings.
Funny thing, though- ever since early afternoon, you haven't seen Trixie. She seemed a little worried this morning, but pre-show jitters is hardly a rare occurrence; you're not immune to them yourself, and unlike her, you've never actually appeared before an audience. A free day before the show is welcome enough, and you busy yourself puttering around your place, doing some cleaning and such you've been too occupied to address recently.
At some point while sitting down for a break you must have dozed off, because the next thing you know, it's nighttime and there's a key clicking in the front-door lock. You're blinking yourself into awareness when the door opens and Trixie comes stumbling in, her eyes half-lidded and more than a little bloodshot. She looks up at you in surprise. “Oh! Hello, Donovan,” she slurs. “Trixie hopes you weren't waiting up for her.”
Oh, she's drunk alright. Not to the “plastered” stage, but not terribly far off. “No, I just dozed off a while ago,” you tell her. “Went out to enjoy yourself, I guess?”
“Uh-huh.” She closes the door and slips the key into the little pouch she keeps under her mane. “Trixie apol... apologizes for not leaving you a note. She meant not to be rude.”
“Not a problem. You're a full-grown mare; you don't have to be home before curfew.”
She laughs at that. “Trixie must use the 'little fillies' room', to... ah... freshen up. She will be right back.”
While she's gone, you check the time. 9:45PM. Was she out partying all afternoon and evening? You didn't think she had it in her. At the very least you'd have liked to have been invited along... but hey, everybody needs a little time away from co-workers, you suppose.
She's taking longer than you expected in the bathroom, and you're just starting to wonder if you should go check on her when you hear the door open. She sort of weaves her way back into the living room, and... has she been crying? Her eyes are watery, and it looks like she tried wiping away tearstreaks from her face, only to fail miserably. But she's still attempting a smile. “Donovan... may we talk?” she says in a wavering voice.
“Sure.” You indicate the couch with a tilt of your head, and she carefully climbs up. Obviously too drunk to hop up like usual. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a quiet sigh. “Donovan, Trixie has not been fully honest with you,” she says slowly.
“How do you mean?”
“Do you remember when she told you that her last show had given her enough profits to hire you and redo the act?”
You nod.
“She... she lied, Donovan. The last show was a complete failure. It didn't even recoup costs.” She stares down at the couch, her lower lip quivering.
“Then... then where'd you get the money to pay me?”
“Trixie had to sell a couple of mementos that were dear to her to raise new funds.” She lets out another sigh. “And... those funds are running low. Donovan, if this show in Mareheim doesn't do well....”
You're quiet for a moment, not sure what to say. “What will you do then?”
“Trixie will probably have to sell her wagon and return to Equestria, and... find some way to start over once again.”
“Once again?” Something clicks in your mind. “Ponyville?”
Her eyes widen for a moment, then close. “...yes.”
You gently lay a hand on her withers. “Tell me what happened in Ponyville, Trixie. Please.”
She's silent for a long time, eyes closed. You wait patiently. Eventually, she begins to tell you the story in a quiet, small voice... how she'd barged into a small rural village named Ponyville and opened her act with wild boasts and abject humiliation of several audience members. On top of that, her stories had apparently inspired a pair of impressionable young colts to go hunting down an Ursa Minor- now those you've heard of, a very nasty beast if riled, and rile it those colts certainly did- and draw it back to Ponyville for Trixie to defeat. Only Trixie hadn't actually done such a thing, and she was as helpless as anypony else to stop the creature- until an unassuming purple unicorn used powerful, versatile yet subtle magic to soothe the creature and deliver it away from the town.
“The Ursa Minor smashed Trixie's wagon,” she finishes. “She lost everything that night- all her belongings, her very home. Because of her own arrogance.”
“But at least you came through it alive,” you remind her.
“Yes....” Another deep breath and a shaky sigh. “Trixie didn't find out until later who the purple unicorn was. As it turns out... she was Twilight Sparkle.”
You blink in surprise. “The Twilight Sparkle?”
“The very one.” Trixie wipes away a tear. “Trixie made a foal of herself before the very Element of Magic. She humiliated the friends of Celestia's own student. She hasn't been able to bring herself to go back to Ponyville since.”
You slowly rub your fingertips between her shoulders, trying to comfort her. “So after that... you started over?”
“With absolutely nothing to her name but... her name. Soiled due to her own arrogance.” She paws at the couch for a moment. “But she was relentless, determined to once more have that name in lights. She called in favors, worked at odd jobs, saved every bit she could get her hooves on until she could replace her wagon and get back on the road. It took her more than a year to do that.”
“Then what?”
“Then... she simply went from show to show, doing her same old tricks, suffering from her same old conceits. She took a few months off to try to rework her act, but her first show after that... well. You know that part of the story.” She looks up at you. “Then on the way to another scheduled appearance, a wheel on her wagon cracked. And that's where you came in, Donovan.”
You can't help but chuckle. “I've always wondered what made you call me out of the blue after that.”
“Trixie realized that she couldn't reinvent herself by herself. We are our habits, in a way, and it can be difficult to break them alone. She... sold some mementos, bought a cellular phone, and used a library computer to look up your information.” She manages a chuckle. “You were her very first phone call.”
You're kind of touched by that, in a funny way. “So now you're worried that if this show doesn't go well, you're going to have to start up from the bottom again.”
“ 'Worried' is not....” She looks down again, after a moment burying her face in her forelegs. “Donovan, I'm terrified ,” she whimpers; the fear is plain in her voice, and you instinctively press your hand against her side to reassure her. “I don't want to start over again. I... I don't think I even can . I've worked so hard, tried so hard, but....”
She looks back up at you with her reddened, tear-rimmed eyes, and all you can do is pull her close to you and hug her gently. She sobs into your chest. “Shh,” you tell her quietly. “You don't need to worry, Trixie. This show's not going to be your last. This time is different.”
She's quiet for a moment, and then she pulls back a little to look up at you. “Donovan... I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“Keep me humble. If you see me beginning to get haughty, or insulting, stop me. I trust you to be subtle about it.”
“I can do that.” You wipe away a tear from her cheek. “So I've finally gotten promoted to first-pony references from you?” you ask teasingly.
“...old habits die hard. It wasn't my intention to keep you at foreleg's length. I'm sorry.” She places her head against your chest again, sniffling. You stroke her mane gently for a moment as you consider. “Trixie,” you say quietly.
“...yes?” comes her reply, muffled by your shirt.
“You don't have to go back to Equestria if you don't want to. You can stay with me.”
You can actually feel her breath catch in her throat, and she once more leans back to look up at you. “Do you mean that, Donovan?” she asks.
“Yeah.” You smile at her. “That's what friends are for, hm?”
She closes her eyes and lays her head back on your chest. “And a good friend you are to me, Donovan,” she murmurs. “Perhaps the best I have had.”
You're not sure how long the two of you are sitting that way- you just don't feel like turning to check the clock- but a little snore from the pony alerts you that she's fallen asleep. Briefly you consider carrying her back to her wagon, but realize that you'd barely fit inside, let alone be able to place her on her bed without dropping her sixteen different ways... so instead you gently lay her down on the couch, get your spare blanket and pillow and tuck her in, gently slipping the pillow beneath her head. Then you turn off the living-room light and are about to head for your bedroom when something makes you stop and turn back around.
There's a sliver of pale white light coming in through the window from the streetlight outside, and it's laying across Trixie. The light seems to pick up every single one of the fine hairs in her mane and frames her face gently, showing the barest trace of a smile on her lips.
There's been plenty of times you've thought of Trixie as cute, or adorable, or sweet. But this is the first time you've ever come to see her as beautiful .
It's 9:30 in the evening and you're helping Trixie finish packing up the stage. It's hard to hear anything above the clopping of hooves and the talking of excited ponies. The last show of the run ended ten minutes ago, but the crowd is still there- talking excitedly with each other, a few asking for autographs. And as soon as you and she are done, Trixie is all too happy to sign a handful of flyers and other paraphernalia held out by happy audience members.
With a soft chuckle, you remember her disappointment with the somewhat paltry crowds at the first showing. You reassured her that, being an unknown- in this area, anyway- act in a sleepy resort town on the tail-end of the busy season wasn't going to get you the biggest reception on day one... but wowing the crowds would net much more positive buzz during the second and third days. And tonight's sold-out turnout had definitely proven you right.
Trixie is practically hopping towards you. Her grin is infectious, and you don't even pretend you can keep it from spreading across your face in return. “So, you were right, Donovan,” she admits in a lilting voice. “I'd say today was definitely an improvement in attendance.”
You share a laugh as she helps you lock the stage back in place. Your permit for the rotunda is good through tomorrow, so there's nothing wrong with leaving the wagon for the night and returning to your hotel room. Along the way you stop for some pizza- mushroom for you, daffodil and sour cream for her- and then retire to your room for the night. “Did you get the entire show on video, Donovan?” she asks, before levitating a slice of pizza to her mouth.
“Sure did.” You take a swig of soda. “Good thing I thought to put the tripod up on a table. There were a few ponies who were actually jumping up and down during the dartboard trick.”
“That one went over better than I expected. Maybe we should expand on it. I can't wait to get back home and....” She pauses. “Huh.”
You pause in chewing. “Hmh?”
“I think that's the first time I've used the word 'home' in... quite a while, actually.” She shrugs and smiles. “But anyway,” she continues, levitating up her own cup of soda, “a toast to us. I think together we have the ability to really bring the crowds to their hooves- and feet- like nopony else.”
You grin, tapping your cup to hers. “And make them beg for more.”
(-)
You've thought it before, but Trixie has proven it to you: This mare is really, really behind in her knowledge of human technology.
That's not to say that she can't learn, of course, as you're finding out while standing in the laptop aisle of your favorite electronics store. She's picking up on the terminology fairly quickly- the words “memory drive” only came out of her mouth in that order once- and she's working out your basic explanations of how the various parts function with aplomb. For somepony whose experience with tech only went so far as a television until she chose to call you, she's managing fairly well.
As you watch her glance between a pair of placards describing the various benefits of two different models of laptop, you go down the aisle a bit to look around. To be honest, the line between “human tech” and “Equestria tech” has really begun to blur the last few years; you can't find anything with a transmitter or antenna that doesn't have a magically-aligned resonance lattice these days, and thaumatic-charge reservoirs outdo lithium-ion batteries by twenty-five percent for things that have heavy power draw. Never mind the great leaps in transportation....
“Donovan?” Trixie's voice interrupts your thoughts. “What do you think of this one?”
You go to her side and have a look. It's not a bad unit, all told; it's got all the modern bells and whistles, it's reasonably powerful and fairly lightweight, the guide specifically mentions an arcano-reactive touchpad so she won't need to use her hooves or a stylus on it, and best of all- it's on sale. It'd be an easy task to get it working with your wireless router once you got it home. “Looks good,” you tell her. “It ought to be able to get things done for you for a good while. Ready to drop the hammer on it?”
“No, because that would void the warranty.” She gives you a sly grin as you chuckle at the joke. “Yes, I think I'm ready to make a purchase.”
She brings a boxed unit up to the registers, pulls out her credit card- custom-emblazoned with her cutie mark, of course; not many ponies pass up that option, that you've seen anyway- and finishes the sale, and then you both head out towards the bus stop. She busies herself with the instruction manual during the ride, and once you get back home she's quick to get the laptop out and start charging it up. While that's going on, she flips through the various other paraphernalia that came with the computer. “Huh,” she murmurs, stopping on one leaflet in particular- a game advertisement. “I think they may be marketing this to the wrong pony.”
Splashed across the back of the ad is an artistic rendition of several species geared up in modern combat attire. “Worlds At War 3: Combined Ops” is printed along the top in a military-stencil font. You were actually surprised to read once that more than a few ponies played games like this- though they typically selected the “no gore” option whenever available and tended to gravitate towards support roles, rather than frontline combat.
Trixie doesn't seem much the gaming type to you, though, which leaves you wondering why she's examining the leaflet so intently. “You know,” she says after a moment, “this was probably the most difficult thing to understand about humans.”
“Video games? Badly-done advertisements? Glossy paper?”
She snickers and shakes her head. “War, actually. Or... your dual nature about it.” She lays the pamphlet down on the coffee table. “We ponies aren't exactly new to the concept; it's believed that before the rise of the Alicorns, the pegasi had a military society not too far off from some early human ones. And, of course, there's the griffons and their mandatory service for fledglings. But it's always struck me how good you humans are at it, how you can embrace it and yet hate it at the same time.”
“You know, I think it was just a few months after the Discovery that all the pony psychologists and philosophers asked their human counterparts that, and we basically said 'we can't figure it out either'.” You chuckle.
“Well, nopony will ever say that your own philosophers never tried to work it out.” She gives you a smile as she repacks the assorted packing materials into the box. “I remember there being a lot of talk early on, about how ponies couldn't possibly trust a species so capable of violence. I'm ashamed to say I agreed with them at first, until I saw one of the TDRC's 'Let's Have A Look' films.”
You're unfamiliar with the acronym. “TDRC?”
“Trans-Dimensional Relations Council. Princess Celestia set it up shortly after the Discovery, to help dispel rumors and falsehoods. Their films were usually shown as shorts before feature films and sent to classrooms as educational material.” Trixie puts the box aside and leans back on the couch next to you. “The film was apparently the third one in the series, filmed by a pony cultural exchange group, but it was the first one I'd seen. I wasn't sure what to expect- but it certainly wasn't three adorable children smiling into the camera.” She chuckles. “It just floored me how much they were like any foals you'd see in Equestria. Running around, enjoying themselves, not a care in the world. And I saw how curious they were about ponies, asking so many questions of the film crew. I remember thinking to myself 'How can these delightful creatures grow up to be the monsters some ponies think they are?'.”
You chuckle. “Yeah, I remember seeing a documentary video that was shot in Trottingham. The foals were exactly the same way- when they filmed in a classroom, the teacher basically had to suspend class for the day because none of the kids could concentrate enough on it. She just let it turn into an extended Q&A session.”
Trixie grins. “I can't even pretend to be surprised,” she says, settling her legs underneath her body to lie down. “I'm sorry to say I never really met many humans during my tours through Equestria, though that was more due to my habit of keeping to myself. And I never found any particular reason to visit Earth.” Her expression becomes sheepish. “You may have picked up on that when I went with you that day we met.”
“Maybe a little.” You can't help but chuckle. “I have to say, though, knowing that... I'm even more surprised now that you approached me with your job offer. It can't have been easy.”
“Not really, no.” She gives you a slight but honest smile. “I've found since then, though, that it was worth the effort.”
You can't help but smile at that. “Well, if you don't mind me asking... what's your opinion on us humans and Earth now?”
“Strange, chaotic, mystifying, sometimes a little frightening, but overall... intriguing.”
You look at her for a moment. “So is that your opinion of Earth, or of humans?”
A cheeky grin spreads across her face. “Yes.”
You shake your head as you laugh. “I walked right into that one, didn't I?”
“Wide-eyed and smiling.” She nickers. “Let's have some lunch while we're waiting for this to charge up. I've been aching to try those four-cheese enchiladas.”
“Sure.” You follow along behind her into the kitchen, thinking. It seems that every time you talk to this mare, you learn more about her- and every time you learn more about her, you like her even more.
(-)
Trixie seems to like surprising you with unexpected suggestions now and then. This one's a doozy, though. “You want me in the act with you?”
“Hmh, there's your self-depreciation kicking in again.” She chuckles. “I'm serious, Donovan. You have a good stage presence when we practice, you know the act as well as I do, and you can certainly be funny when you try. Some of the ideas I've had really need two bodies on the stage to pull off well, and since I have a reputation as being a little... well, dour, you can play off of that.”
You consider this. “What about the behind-the-scenes stuff?”
“We've practically got that automated now, don't we? And you can move props just as effectively while on-stage with me as from behind the stage. If we work it right, we can make it all a part of the show.”
You look down at the MC/AC converter you were in the middle of installing in her wagon. The old one was giving out, and with the profits from the Mareheim show, you could finally afford a decent replacement. You go quiet for a moment as you finish hooking up the leads to the thaumatic storage crystal. “I need to think about it,” you tell her. “I'm not as comfortable in front of crowds as you. I'm a lot more used to being off-camera, so to speak.”
You expect her to argue her case at least a bit more. Instead, she gives you an understanding smile and gently puts a hoof on your knee. “Certainly, Donovan,” she tells you. “I can understand that. I just think you're holding yourself back.” She leans back. “I'll tell you what. I'll write out two of the ideas I've had for duo tricks, and we'll practice them on-camera. Then tell me what you think and if you would like to give them a try before an audience. Our next couple of shows will likely get about the same attendance as Mareheim did, so that would be a good time to see how you feel in front of a crowd if you decide you'd like to go through with it. Deal?”
You open your mouth to argue against it, but nothing comes out. It's an entirely fair and reasonable offer, and the only thing keeping you from agreeing readily is your own discomfort with being the center of attention. And all this time I've been working to help Trixie break her bad habits... don't I owe it to her to let her return the favor?
“...okay. Deal.” You shake her hoof. “Good!” she exclaims with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, I do believe it is lunchtime, and I'm going to go heat up some of that leftover macaroni and cheese. Do you want some?”
“Sure.”
“All right, then. Come in as soon as you're done, I'll have a bowl waiting.”
“Sure thing.” And as she leaves, you watch her go for a moment, then return to installing the converter. And you can't help wonder exactly when the precise moment was that this turned from a professional relationship into a true friendship. Try as you might, you can't pick out a single moment that cinched it- it's been gradual, building understandings and working through issues together.
And you decide that it doesn't really matter, at the end of the day. Trixie is your friend. You're more than okay with that.
(-)
It's 6:45PM and you're tugging at the collar of your dress shirt nervously. You're still not sure how it is you agreed to do this, but here you are, sitting on a bench, getting ready for your first live performance on-stage with Trixie. It's only for about seven minutes of a forty-minute act, sure, but still- first-time jitters are entirely valid in this situation.
Trixie notices, and walks up to you. “Nervous?” she asks gently.
“I almost feel like I'm about to go out in front of a firing squad, not a bunch of ponies.”
She gently pats your shin with the side of her foreleg, careful not to smudge any dust from her hoof on your nice, clean dress pants. “I felt like that once, too, you know,” she tells you. “So, a little trick my parents passed along to me when I was first learning the trade: In your mind, envision that it is only you and I out there. That the audience is only a painted backdrop, that their sounds are nothing but a recording.”
You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, building the illusion in your mind. “Backdrop. Recording. Okay... I think I can work with that.”
“I know you can, Donovan.” She hops onto the bench next to you and gives your cheek a gentle nuzzle. She's never done that before, and it feels nicer than you might have thought. “Now, let's go get ready for our... practice run-through,” she tells you.
The show starts off much the same as the last one did, though you did notice that here in Neighperville, your first-day turnout is a fair bit better than Mareheim had been. Maybe word has been spreading already? Your thoughts are interrupted when you realize your cue is about to come up, and you wait expectantly.
“...oh, well, I suppose I'll need the help of my assistant with this. Oh, Donovan?”
Just a practice run. Nobody here but Trixie and me. It doesn't stop you from feeling a lump in your throat as you walk out, trying not to show that you're shaking a little. But... is that applause? Just a little, but there's some ponies out in the audience are clapping or stomping at your entrance.
Okay. Okay. You can deal with this. Backdrop. Recording. Just you and Trixie.
And the most hilarious, unbelievable thing is that it's working . You slip so easily into the routine that you don't even have to tell yourself to forget the crowd- it's like they've faded into non-existence. You do look their way a few times, such as during the card trick, where she's shuffling the deck through the air, and then into her hat... and then levitates the spare deck out from your sleeve in a long stream of flapping cards, making it look as though it had gone from her hat to there. You even nail the “how'd that happen?” look as you pretend to search through your sleeve for some evidence, holding it open for the audience to see. But it's still all play-acting to you, just that practice run again.
It's when your part in the act finally ends and Trixie sends you off the stage that reality re-enters your mind... and you realize you're being applauded again, heartily this time. And you stop for just a moment to give a smile and a wave to the audience before you hop down off the stage and back into the shadows.
And you have to admit it... that applause feels good .
Trixie is not above teasing you after the show is over. “Told you so, told you so,” she chants in a sing-song voice, giving you the biggest grin you've ever seen on her face. “Come on, Donovan, tell me how it felt! Tell me how it felt when they applauded you off the stage!”
“Okay, okay! It felt....” You pause for a moment, searching for words. “Like... a jolt of energy right up my spine. Like I was making out with a live wire, like... ugh! I can't describe it, it was too intense.”
She chuckles. “It's okay, Donovan. I know just what you mean. I felt the very same thing the first time I went on the stage. And the second. That rush is one of the main reasons I perform.”
“Man. That....” You run your fingers through your hair. “That was amazing. You were right... it was easy to treat them like a backdrop to get over my nervousness.”
“The Grrrrreat and Powerful Trixie knows all! Even how to get neophyte illusionists over their stage fright.”
“Your most impressive feat yet.” You kneel down and pull her into a gentle hug, which she returns eagerly. “So, I have an on-stage assistant now?” she asks playfully.
“I do believe so,” you answer in the same way.
(-)
Wasn't it just last year that you were eyeing your bills with trepidation and considering going back to waiting tables? It's hard to remember now. Five shows you and Trixie have done together, each one more complex and showy than the last, and those bits have been rolling in. Your bills are on auto-pay now, those horrid, colorful envelopes no longer violating the sanctity of your mailbox, and your bank account practically sings with its fullness. You're by no means fabulously wealthy, but it's been a long time since you've felt so financially secure.
At the moment you're in the garage, helping Trixie break down her stage for maintenance. Complex machinery needs to be tended to regularly, lest it fail when you need it most; wires, cables and springs all come out to be examined and replaced as required. The two of you are chatting over the work- she's interested in having a couple of shows here on Earth, playing to primarily human audiences instead of pony ones. There's a couple of set-pieces she's come up with that might not play well to her species, but would be more likely to engage yours. “What I really want to do,” she tells you, “is come up with an act that appeals to both differently.”
“Well, it's doable,” you answer, twisting a ratchet wrench back and forth to loosen a light fixture. “Tricky, but doable. Just a matter of finding that sweet spot between 'scary to ponies' and 'boring to humans'.”
“Curse your kind and your natural aggressiveness.” She grins to show she's kidding, before turning her attention back to the power cord she's unthreading. “Hm. What's this thing stuck on?”
You come over and have a look. “Dunno. It's one of the ones we put in together, though. I thought we'd kept it clear of all the moving parts.”
“Nothing saying it couldn't have shifted, though. It could have gotten caught in a hinge or spring.” She gives it a couple of more tugs with her magic. “Maybe if I go under-”
There's a sudden creak of wood and metal, a harsh “snap”, and something springs up from the rear part of the stage. You look up just in time to see a jagged piece of wood flying straight towards your head.
It's... you don't have the slightest idea what time it is, really. Or where you are. All you know is that you're lying down, and apparently at some point you agreed to host the Apocalypse in your frontal lobes... or at least that's what it feels like. You let out a soft moan and try to raise your head, which spikes the headache and only makes the moan louder. You can't even really open your eyes for fear your brain will explode.
“Donovan?” You hear Trixie's voice somewhere off to your left. It sounds strange, like she's been awake for far too long. A moment later, you hear hoofsteps on a hard floor, followed by the feeling of something weighing down the mattress you're lying upon. “Donovan... are you awake?”
Unfortunately, the part of your brain that handles witty replies has gone down in the depths of the Migraine Sea; all hands feared lost. “Wh... where....” you manage to groan out.
“You're in Sutter Medical Center, Donovan.” You feel her hoof on your cheek. “Just relax. I'm going to go get the nurse.” You hear her hoofsteps retreat for a few moments, to return with the severe clacks of high heels. “Ah, thanks for alerting us, Ms. Lulamoon,” a light human voice says. “Let's see. Mr. Trellis, how are you feeling?”
“Like I took a nuclear explosion to the forehead and went back for seconds.” Ahh, there's your wit, as washed-up as a gaggle of shipwreck survivors. At least it gets you a faint chuckle. “Well, that's understandable,” the nurse replies. “Mr. Trellis, I'm going to shine a light in each of your eyes. Can you tell me if you can see it?”
A moment later, the wrath of God blazes into each of your poor, aching eyes. You can barely hold back a whimper. “Good, good,” the nurse says, oblivious to your suffering. “Mr. Trellis, you were admitted here with a fortunately moderate case of cranial trauma. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?”
“A large chunk of wood flying at me at scary speeds.”
“Good, no apparent memory loss.” The nurse moves away; you can see that now, because apparently that miniature spotlight she uses traumatized your eyes into working properly. “Mr. Trellis, you should consider yourself lucky- you took only a glancing blow to the forehead from a rather sizable piece of lumber. Your MRIs showed no apparent damage to the brain and only a little swelling, but to be safe, one of our specialists will be in to see you in the morning; until then, do get some rest. There's some mild sedatives on your bedstand that you should take.” You do so as the nurse turns to Trixie. “Ms. Lulamoon, you may stay with him if you wish, but I must ask that you let him sleep soon.”
“Yes, ma'am. Thank you.” The high heels walk away, and Trixie once more leans on your bed. “Thank Celestia you're alright, Donovan,” she half-whispers.
“Trixie... how long was I out?”
“Sixteen hours. Sweet Celestia, Donovan, I'd thought you were dead .” Your eyes clear enough to show that she's crying. “I'm so sorry. I tried to catch the plank before it hit you, but I was just too slow. Celestia damn that rickety stage.”
“Trixie, that thing was moving at warp speed. I didn't even have time to curse.” You reach over to stroke her muzzle. “Not your fault. Not anybody's fault. Just an accident. This is what we have insurance for.”
“I know, I know. It's... I was just so scared, Donovan. Do you know how hard it is to dial 911 with arcanokinesis when you're crying and panicked? You were bleeding all over; I was convinced that the plank had crushed your skull.”
You can't help but chuckle, despite how much it hurts your head to do so. “There's this funny thing about human anatomy, Trixie. Sometimes a cut to the forehead or temple will bleed ridiculous amounts despite being shallow.”
“...oh. I... didn't know that. But I doubt it would've made me feel any better if I had!” She rubs your cheek with her hoof, more gently than you thought possible. “I just... I thought I'd seen my best friend die in front of me, Donovan. I felt like my heart had turned to ice. I made them let me ride in the ambulance with you, and I've been waiting in the room ever since.” She looks absolutely miserable now, and you want to hug her, but she can't exactly climb on the bed and you can't exactly bend over. So instead you stroke her mane. “Thank you,” you tell her.
She gazes at you. “For what?”
“Caring so much.” You gently rub one of her ears, and her eyes half-close for just a moment as she lets out a soft sigh. “I think we both should get some sleep, Trixie. You look as bad as I feel, and that is really saying something.”
“Mmmh... yes. Agreed.” She eyes the bed for a moment, then turns back to the padded chair and begrudgingly lopes towards it.
Just as she's settled, you speak again. “One more thing, Trixie.”
“Hmm?”
One of your eyebrows raises. “ 'Ms. Lulamoon'?”
She lets out a groan that has nothing to do with exhaustion. “In order to be admitted, I had to give them my full legal name.”
Your eyebrow stays raised, but you say nothing.
“...fine. It's Beatrix Marie Lulamoon. Don't laugh.”
You shake your head. “I wasn't going to,” you tell her, with complete honestly. “I like it.”
You can see her blush. “...well. Thank you. But don't go telling anyone.”
“Our little secret, I promise. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
She blinks at you. “Where did you learn that ridiculous little rhyme?”
“I heard it somewhere a while back. Can't remember. I must have brained my damage.” You give her a crooked grin.
She giggles softly, shaking her head. “Just... just go to sleep, Donovan. You obviously need it.”
“Yeah, so do you.” You chuckle. “Sorry I kept you up.”
“No apologies.” She gives you a stern look that slowly breaks into a smile. “Besides, that's what friends are for, hm?”
Well, seriously... how are you supposed to argue that? You doubt you could even without a splitting- but thankfully receding- headache. So, instead, you settle back down, as does she.
It's impossible to tell which of you falls asleep first.
(-)
“Come on, big guy, it's time to wake up.”
The rattle of dishes rouses you from sleep as much as Trixie's voice. You don't even have to open your eyes to know what it is. “Breakfast in bed again?” you ask.
You feel the tray settle down on the bed. “Potatoes au gratin with cheddar, toast with jam, and some orange juice,” Trixie tells you.
It's the fourth day in a row she's brought you breakfast in bed. The food looks wonderful, though you know it's from pre-prepared boxed stuff; Trixie has both admitted and proven that she's as bad a cook as you are. Presentation, though, she's a master at. “I feel like I should be paying two hundred dollars a night for VIP service like this,” you joke, picking up the fork and knife.
“Well, don't get too used to it. Once you're back in good health, we'll be alternating cooking again.” She grins. “In the meantime, though... I don't mind pampering you just a little.”
She unfolds today's edition of Equestria Daily - you subscribed just a couple months ago, as soon as they'd finally begun publishing Earthside- and leafs through a few pages while you eat. “Oh, look,” she says after a minute, holding a page open for you to see. “We're in here!”
And so you are. A small blurb on page D5 in the Life & Entertainment section mentions your injury and Trixie's act. It's not exactly in-depth, but to have the recognition factor to even turn up in Equestria's primary nationwide newspaper is impressive. “If only it was about our show instead of me getting my skull cracked,” you joke.
“Honestly. If painful head injuries is how you get press in this business these days, I'm going to have you take a two-by-four to me.” She nickers quietly, shaking her head. “Well, no such thing as bad publicity, right? Anyway, at least they wished you a good recovery.”
She goes back to reading, and you to eating, but she's got you thinking. “Speaking of publicity, maybe for our next show we should take out media ads.”
“You know, I was thinking that myself last week. We still have to decide where the next show will be. I thought San Mateo might be a good fit- we could rent the same hall we saw that show in.” She smiles. “Though we'll save that for after the stitches come out and you feel well enough to perform.”
While Trixie won't let you do anything too strenuous, she doesn't mind you helping her sketch out an idea for a newspaper ad. She also broaches the idea of a website, for which neither of you has any training- but there's companies to do that sort of thing. She's excited in a cute way about the idea; the Internet had been a tremendous revelation to her, and the prospect of having her very own site- a place where just about anyone could find out about her- makes her giddy.
Then you mention the idea of performance videos viewable on the site, and she literally almost faints. Sometimes you wonder how this mare would ever navigate modern-day human technology without you.
After breakfast is finished, the dishes are done, and you've both washed up, you decide it's nice enough to toss on your coat and go for a short walk outside. There's a chill in the air, but it's a good-feeling one, giving just a hint of what spring promises. At first the walk is refreshing, as you and Trixie both talk about anything but work, but as you continue along you start to feel a weird sense of vertigo. You hide it as best as you can in order to not worry her, and start hinting at heading back, hoping that you can get back home and sit down until the dizziness passes.
You don't quite make it. Two blocks from home, your brain suddenly decides that the world has tilted ninety degrees to your left and started spinning, and attempts to force your body to compensate. This has the predictable result of you staggering, tripping over your own leg and falling in a heap on the sidewalk. You hear Trixie gasp. “Donovan?!”
“I'm... I'm okay. Give me a minute.” You manage to pull yourself up into a sitting position on a raised cement platform, holding your head in one hand and praying for the world to remember how to stay still. Trixie jumps up next to you, and you feel her breath on your neck. “Donovan, are you all right?” she asks quietly. “I can call an ambulance....”
“No... no, it's all right. Just pushed myself a little too hard.” The vertigo is starting to go away now, thankfully. Still, she presses. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Promise.” You manage a smile.
She's quiet for a moment, then rests her muzzle against your shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she says quietly. “I don't mean to... err... nag. I'm just worried about you.”
“Hey... I'm not complaining.” You pat her shoulder. “Kind of nice to have someone around to worry about me, you know?”
“Well, it's... rather nice to have someone to worry about. ...sort of. Kind of.” You hear her giggle quietly into your coat. “Forget the 'worry' part and leave in the 'someone' part. How is that?”
“Comprehensible. In the state I'm in, that's something.” Well, the state you were in, anyway. The vertigo is mostly gone, and the world seems to have outgrown its infatuation with impersonating a dreidel. Slowly, you stand up, and you feel Trixie's arcanokinesis press against you gently to help steady you. You only realize now that you've never directly felt her magic before; you might have expected a flat, hard plane of force, but it's more like someone's pressing gently against you with some of those memory-foam pillows. “Hey, that feels kind of nice,” you tell her.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie is a master of magic, and can be as subtle as she can be spectacular.” She's actually able to hold her face still for a full five seconds before she breaks up laughing. “You know, it just feels weird using my stage persona on you now,” she tells you. “It's a lot more comfortable being myself with you these days.”
You smile, and lightly ruffle her mane. “I'm okay with that.”
(-)
It's 2:30 in the afternoon, three days after you had your forehead stitches removed and passed your last checkup with flying colors, and you and Trixie are sitting on the couch, watching television together. She's got a plate full of celery with peanut butter; you have some crackers with pepperoni and cheese. She's leaned up against you- she does that all the time, now, and you're certainly not going to complain- and you're both relaxed, enjoying the quiet day.
Then you hear the creak of the mailbox near the front door. You excuse yourself to go check it; there's the usual assortment of junk mail... and a strange, elegant-looking envelope addressed to Trixie. The writing is in flowing script, and the return address is simply “Ponyville Library, Ponyville, Principality of Equestria, LF-272-A”. “Trixie, you've got mail,” you say, holding out the letter for her as you walk back to the couch.
She takes hold of it with her magic, and frowns slightly at the return address. But she withholds comment as she tears open the envelope and pulls a sheet of honest-to-goodness parchment out. As she reads it, her frown deepens. “This... is unexpected,” she says quietly, her tone neutral.
“Can I see?” you ask, and she levitates the parchment to you so that you can read.
Dear Trixie,
I've read that you have taken up residence on Earth and have started a new magic show. I apologize for the breach of privacy, but I took the liberty of looking up your information to contact you. Would I be able to persuade you to return to Ponyville for a short while so that we may talk face-to-face? If you are amenable, write to me c/o the address on the envelope, or if you prefer more instant communication, Email me at PurpleBookworm@PonyvilleLib.equ .
I hope to hear from you soon.
Respectfully yours, Twilight Sparkle
P.S. Your partner Donovan is entirely welcome to join you, and we here at the library wish him a speedy recovery from his injury.
You look back down at her to see that her expression is still flat, but you can tell she's upset. “Do you think you want to do this, Trixie?” you ask her. “It seems she's not angry at you at all.”
“I... just can't imagine why she'd even go to the trouble. The Ponyville incident was years ago. I would have expected her to have forgotten me, if not the entire event.”
“It seems the opposite is true.” You gently rub the back of her neck. “It's up to you, of course.”
She considers for a few long moments, re-reading the letter again and again. Finally, she looks up at you. “Would you come with me, Donovan?” she asks. “I think... I think I'd handle it better if I had you there for support.” She shifts uneasily, placing the letter down on the coffee table. “I believe it's past time I closed that chapter of my life.”
“Of course I'll go with you. I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't, I think.”
“I don't think you know how to not be a good friend.” She sets her forelegs on your thigh and rests her head on them, staring at the far wall contemplatively. You stroke her mane and neck to help relax her, and she leans gently into your hand. “Two bits for your thoughts,” you say.
“You're overpaying.” She lets out a soft sigh. “Just... steeling myself. Ponyville is not a happy memory due to no fault of its own, but that doesn't exactly help much. It's not going to be easy showing my face there, let alone asking forgiveness.”
“I think you'll feel better when it's done, whatever comes of it.” You lightly stroke the back of her left ear- a sensitive spot, you've learned- and her eyes close. “Going to write her back?” you ask.
“...later.” She nestles against you. “Right now I'm going to be exceptionally thankful that human hands are so precise.”
“Well, the Wise and Benevolent Donovan has his own sort of magic.” You lightly tickle your fingers across the back of her neck, and she laughs. “Oh ho,” she chortles, “is that going to be your stage name now?”
“Only if I wanted to turn our act into a comedy show,” you snicker. She joins in with your laughter, pulling herself up a little to lay her forelegs across your lap and rest her head on your chest. “Okay,” you hear her say quietly. “Tell me how you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get me to laugh no matter what sort of a mood I'm in.” She goes quiet for a moment as you resume rubbing her neck. “You know... maybe I'm okay with this after all. If she was going to try to ruin my life somehow, I doubt she'd have sent me a letter beforehoof. So really, what could she do to me aside from that? Give me a stern lecture? I'd honestly deserve one after all that happened.” She gently kneads her hooves against your leg; she does that sometimes when thinking. “Maybe she just... wants to talk.”
“Well, that's what the letter says, and though I've never met the mare, everything I've heard about her makes me think she's not the duplicitous type.”
“I just wish I knew what she wants to talk about ,” she sighs.
You rub the base of her ear with your fingertips. “One way to find out.”
“I... suppose that's true.” Slowly, reluctantly- and this time, not just because she wants the massage to continue- she gets up. “I'll get my laptop. I have an Email to compose.”
(-)
You've heard a lot about Ponyville. It being the home of six of the most famous ponies currently living, it's hard not to have. You've even seen pictures of the various buildings and monuments there, quaint and colorful homes with thatched or tiled roofs- even the handful of human-sized buildings built there hew to the same style.
But the pictures were just a pale replica of the true loveliness of the town. Here, in the warm light of Celestia's sun, presented to your own eyes, you can see the spirit of welcoming and camaraderie that seems to pervade every square inch of the place. Crowds of ponies and the occasional human walk back and forth, chatting amicably along the way.
The beauty of the scene seems lost on Trixie, though. She looks as though she wants to find somewhere to hide, some sort of camouflage, and you're fairly convinced that if you weren't here with her, she might have succumbed to the impulse by now. The flight instinct can be strong with ponies in certain situations, and Trixie is no exception.
She's managing to hold out, though, with frequent glances up at you. Every time you catch her eye, you give her a reassuring smile, and it seems to help just a little. You're actually tempted to rest your hand on her neck just for the physical connection....
You're broken out of your thoughts by a mint-green mare crossing your path. She comes to a stop as she spots you and Trixie. “Oh, hello!” she greets you cheerfully. “New to Ponyville?”
“Just visiting,” you answer with a smile. “We're looking for the library. Can you point us to it?”
“Sure can.” She turns and angles a forehoof towards the center of town, where a tall tree stands. “Inside the big tree there, can't miss it.”
“Gotcha. Thanks a lot.” She goes along her way, and you walk with Trixie towards the library. She's starting to tremble a little, and now you go ahead and gently place your hand on her neck; she jumps a little at the touch, but then looks up at you in relief. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
“No need to be,” you tell her. “Just stay strong. Or at least stubborn.”
“Now, stubborn I can do.” It's enough motivation to get her chin set and her legs moving steadily, at least for long enough to reach the library. You can't help but be impressed- a building literally carved out of a tree that would put most of the specimens in Sequoia National Park to shame, at least in girth... and the tree is still alive and healthy. The little five-year-old version of yourself that lives in the back of your mind can still go “Wow, magic!” from time to time, it seems.
The sign hanging on the door reads “Come in, we're open!”, so that's just what you do. A small bell dings lightly as you enter, and the smell of old books wafts through your nostrils. “Right with you!” a voice calls from a side room, and the two of you wait by the checkout desk. After a moment, a juvenile dragon- not something you've ever seen before, and you can't help but gawk just a little- strolls out; the purple-and-green reptile stands just slightly shorter than Trixie on his hind legs. He stops short at the sight of her. “Oh, hey there, Trixie,” he says, his voice a little guarded. “I'm glad to see you came. And you must be Donovan.” He turns to you and sticks one foreclaw out; you shake it. “Name's Spike. I heard about your accident. Feeling better?”
You smile. He seems a nice sort. “Yes, thanks.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nods for a moment. “I'll go get Twilight for you guys; she's probably lost in some book or another.”
He tromps up a nearby staircase. After a moment, you hear knocking, followed by a hushed conversation. Another moment of quiet, and then the sound of Spike's feet is accompanied by hoofsteps. And then you see her: Twilight Sparkle, the very Bearer of the Element of Magic herself. She has a pleasant smile on her face as she reaches the landing and approaches you. “Trixie, it's good to see you again,” she says. “And it's nice to meet you, Mr. Trellis.” She extends a hoof, which you shake. “I'm pleased to see you seem to have recovered well from your accident. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty well, thank you.”
“Excellent.” She turns her attention back to Trixie, who is doing her best to not look uncomfortable. “Trixie, thank you for coming. I really apologize for contacting you from seemingly out of the blue like that, but I literally had no way to find you until I came across that article in the Daily . I'd had no idea you'd moved to Earth and taken up permanent residence.”
“It... was a recent development. Until then, Trixie stayed on the road in Equestria, moving along with her show.” She must really be uncomfortable if she's lapsing into her stage persona. You want to pat her, hug her, do some thing to comfort her, but something in the back of your mind tells you that she needs to do this part herself. “She... didn't feel she would be welcome here.”
“Well, maybe not at first, but... some of us got worried after a while when you didn't return to collect your things. I'm afraid most of your belongings didn't survive when the Ursa smashed your wagon, but....” She pauses a moment and gives Spike a meaningful nod; he returns it and rushes back into the side room for a moment, then reappears with a dusty cardboard box labeled “Trixie's”. Your friend watches in confusion as Twilight magically summons a feather duster to clean it off, then presents it to her; the glow around the box changes color as Trixie takes hold of it and opens it.
What's inside makes her let out a soft gasp. You lean over and see what seems to be a magician's hat and a jewel-clasped cape, both a bright purple and embroidered all over with stars. “You... you kept them?” Trixie asks in a small, trembling voice. “All these years... you kept them?”
“A lot of us figured you weren't a bad pony, Trixie. At least not so bad as to deserve losing everything you owned. I'd hoped that one day you'd come back to Ponyville so we could at least return these.”
A tear trickles down Trixie's left cheek. “Twilight Sparkle, Trixie... thanks you profusely for this. This act of kindness towards one who showed you so little before....” She closes the box. “She... welcomes the gift, but... she can no longer wear these accoutrements.”
“Um....” Twilight looks just as confused as you are, and she even glances at you as if looking for some sort of explanation. All you can do is shrug. “Why not?” she asks after a moment.
“Because these are the clothes of a Trixie that no longer exists. The pompous, arrogant, spiteful foal that she was.” She raises her head, standing proud despite the tears in her eyes. “I... I am somepony different, now. Somepony better. And this better pony wants to apologize to you and everypony for what happened that day.”
“Your apology is accepted, Trixie.” Twilight holds out a foreleg. “Come here.”
Trixie does, and the two mares embrace, your friend sobbing softly into the lavender unicorn's shoulder. After a moment, Spike looks up at you. “Dude... did you have something to do with this?” he asks quietly, gesturing towards Trixie. “I mean... she's really changed.”
You shrug a bit. “Maybe I helped a little.”
“Do not pay that man's self-effacement any heed.” Trixie slowly disengages from Twilight to look back at you. “If humans bore cutie marks, Donovan's would be an image of himself refusing to take a compliment.” All of you laugh at that. “Honestly, if it were not for him, by now I would probably be stuck working as a waitress in some backwater greasy spoon.”
Twilight smiles. “That sounds like an interesting story. I'd love to hear more of it over lunch, if you two are hungry. My treat.”
“Actually, Twilight... I'd like to treat you and Spike instead.” Trixie looks down at the box she's still holding for a moment. “It's the least I could do.”
“Well! All right, then.” Twilight smiles. “And I know just the place.”
(-)
You've heard a lot about Twilight Sparkle. How she's Celestia's very own student, in line for the Archmage position in the Royal Court, how she's the Bearer of the Element of Magic and possibly one of the most powerful magicians ponykind has seen in centuries. What you hadn't heard, though, was that she's also a very warm and open, though slightly awkward mare; she's also almost as bad as you when it comes to menus, a fact that Trixie and Spike find endlessly amusing. You're really starting to like Spike, too- he's as much of a snarker as you are, and after just a half-hour of conversation you find that you're trading quips with him like you've known each other for years.
Right now you're both trying to be nice and not interrupt Trixie too much, though, as she's telling Twilight about how you and she met, began working together and eventually ended up sharing the stage. “That is amazing!” Twilight says after Trixie finishes. “That sort of example of the power of friendship would make a great letter to Princess Celestia. I'm happy for the both of you.”
Spike turns to you. “Okay, seriously, dude- you worked on Negativity ? And you were one of the guys who came up with the chase scene on that episode with Vinyl Scratch? Man, you are, like, a hero of mine! Ask Twilight how hard I was laughing and clapping when I saw that. I bet the stuff you and Trixie do on stage must be, like, ten times as awesome.”
“Now there's an idea!” Twilight stands up. “Trixie, Donovan, could I persuade you to hold a show here in Ponyville? Believe it or not, we don't get a lot of entertainers dropping by; they like to stick to the big cities like Canterlot or Manehattan or Las Pegasus. We'd love it if we could get a show of your caliber.”
“Well....” Trixie glances over your way. “I would need to discuss it with my partner.”
You put your elbows on the table and lay your chin against your folded hands. “Let me consider the offer. A live performance in front of some of the most celebrated ponies of all, in the middle of a town I've wanted an excuse to visit almost since the Discovery? Well, give me a minute to think about OF COURSE I agree.”
“Despite his obvious reservations, my partner is amenable,” Trixie says dryly, not quite suppressing her grin. “Shall we coordinate with you, Twilight?”
“You bet. I'll send you the Email addresses for the Mayor and the permit board and we'll get everything set up.” Twilight giggles. “I've got to admit, computers make some things a lot easier.”
“Wouldn't know it from her complaining when we first got one,” Spike tells you. “What'd you call it, Twi? A 'glorified toy' and a 'waste of time and resources'?” He actually makes fingerquotes- clawquotes?- as he repeats her phrases. “Nowadays you'd be in for a fight if you tried to take her tablet.”
“Yeah, well... we got our first one before Ponyville even knew what the Internet was! How was I supposed to know they'd become so much more useful, so quickly?!”
The four of you walk back to the library; you and Trixie need to be heading out soon if you want to make it home before it gets late. “It was good having you back in Ponyville, Trixie,” Twilight says, as you pick up the box with the cape and hat inside. “And it was good to meet you as well, Donovan. I'm eager to see the show you two can put on for us.”
“Yeah, guys. Don't make us wait too long, huh?” Spike grins. “I love this town, but it gets a little boring in-between visits from otherworldly monsters and magical disasters and all that.”
“As soon as we can manage. I promise.” Trixie and Twilight share another hug, and it's a round of hoof/hand/clawshakes besides that. “Thank you both again,” Trixie says. “Be well.”
“You too!” They give you both a wave as you head out towards the train station at the edge of town. Trixie is quiet along the entire way, though her expression is gentle. You're content to let her process everything that's happened as you both walk.
What you weren't ready for, though, is the tight hug she gives you the moment you sit down on the bench by the train tracks. “Thank you, Donovan,” she half-whispers into your ear.
“What for?”
“ 'What for'? I would never have come here if you hadn't been with me. I'd still be running from my shame. But with your help, I've finally put that behind me.”
“Well, I couldn't just let you do it alone. I think you deserve better than that. Like you said, you're not the pony that you were then. You've gone through a lot since then, and I think you've earned forgiveness. Obviously Twilight and Spike agreed.”
“It... it feels nice hearing you say it, though, Donovan. What you think of me means a lot to me.” She nestles her muzzle against your shoulder for a moment, then slowly- and not without reluctance, you can tell- lowers herself back to the bench. She's not at all reluctant, however, to lean against your side, and you're no more hesitant to rub her neck like you always do. She sighs and closes her eyes. “Sometimes I think you're a better friend than I could ever deserve, Donovan,” she says quietly.
“You're going to give me an ego, talking like that,” you reply with a chuckle, gently rubbing each of her ears in turn. “Besides, I get to choose who I'm friends with, and I say you deserve it. So there.”
“Your superior logic defeats me.” She giggles quietly, leaning into your affectionate rubbing. “Not that I really want to fight it.”
“Truly is the Great and Powerful Trixie a wise and learned pony.” You laugh at the light tailswat she gives you. After a few seconds, so does she.
It's 10:30 at night, and you and Trixie are sitting in front of the television together, unwinding after a long day of planning and reworking parts of the act. It's becoming clear now that the stage on Trixie's wagon is just not big enough to perform on anymore, and you've spent a large part of the day deciding what to do about it- Trixie can't really pull a wagon big enough to hold a much larger stage, but she feels that now that she has a permanent home, constructing a new portable stage- with modern human materials and machinery- without the wagon attached would be a much better way to go. You've agreed, but its construction will take some time; in the meantime, the two of you have rented that hall in San Mateo for a four-day performance next month.
But that's in the future. Right now, you and she are watching Past, Present, Pony together, and sharing a bowl of microwave popcorn. There's an intense storm outside, one of La Niña's little presents for the West Coast; you're thankful it's warm enough out for it to be rain and not snow. The downpour hammers against the roof, loudly enough to force you to turn up the television's volume to be able to hear the movie. Still, the sound is almost hypnotic enough to lull the both of you to sleep-
CRRRACKA-THOOOM
-and suddenly there's a bright flash of light outside, sparks flying everywhere, a thunderclap rattling the windows- and the entire house goes dark. No, strike that, the entire street goes dark; not a single bit of illumination can be seen. You can hear a car alarm or two sounding out further down the block, probably set off by the noise.
Your heart is going at what seems a thousand beats a minute, and Trixie is pressed up closely enough to you for you to feel that hers is the same. “Donovan, what in Celestia's name happened?!” she manages to squeak out.
“I think... a lightning bolt hit the transformer outside. Or close enough to overload it and make it explode. Can you shed a little light on things until I can find the emergency flashlights?”
“As soon as I can get my heart out of my throat, yes.” After a moment, her horn begins to glow with a bluish-white light, bright enough to see for a couple dozen feet; you go with her into the kitchen to find the emergency flashlights and battery-powered lantern you keep for just such emergencies. Once you've got the lantern on and set on a table near the middle of the living room, you take a moment to look out the window; it's difficult to tell through the rain, but your flashlight's beam reveals that the transformer on the pole across the street seems to be completely blown, and there's at least one wire down. Between that and the driving storm, you don't believe it's safe for Trixie to go out to her wagon, and you tell her so. “It seems I'm staying in here for the night then,” she says quietly.
“A sleepover! Too bad we can't make s'mores.” You chuckle softly as you make your way to the closet for the spare blanket and pillows... then pause a moment. You glance back at Trixie and see her still sitting on the couch, staring at the window; she seems not at all at ease. Being only a recent immigrant to Earth, she's probably not used to its seemingly random and sometimes-violent weather patterns. There's certainly been times you wished Sacramento had a pegasus weather team able to clear the skies on command. You hate the idea of her being by herself in this kind of a storm.
So why not stay with her?
You have no idea where the thought came from, but now that it's in your head, you can't get it out. What's more, you can't get yourself to form a rational counter-argument. You remember how, back in the hospital, she looked for a moment like she wanted to climb in bed with you to stay close to you. After a moment, you step away from the closet. “Trixie, I'll be back in a minute,” you tell her.
She just nods and makes some sort of quiet sound in reply. You head into your bedroom, quickly get changed into some light sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt, and pull your blanket and pillows off of your bed, then bring them back out into the living room; Trixie glances over her shoulder at your approach, and a look of confusion crosses her face. You manage a sheepish grin. “Well, I thought....” you begin, before indicating the storm with a tilt of your head.
Confusion changes to surprise, then to bemusement, then to a smile. “...I see,” she says. “I... wouldn't mind.”
She jumps down from the couch and lets you set up the pillows and blanket. Once you've laid down and gotten yourself comfortable on your side with your back pressed against the seatback, Trixie carefully hops up next to you and settles down, laying on her legs with her head against your chest, and you pull the blanket over both of you. “How's that?” you ask.
“...nice,” she murmurs, shifting a little to make herself more comfortable. “Donovan?”
“Mmm?”
“Thank you.” She leans up to nuzzle your shoulder, and then- to your surprise- she kisses your cheek before settling down.
You can't help but ask. “What for?”
“For being so open and welcoming. I have known many ponies who could learn something from you... my past self being one of them.”
You can't think of anything to say in reply, so you just gently put an arm around her and hug her gently against you. And there you lay together, quietly, as the rhythm of the rain and Trixie's warmth quickly lull you into a deep sleep that even the occasional roll of thunder can't interrupt.
In fact, the only thing that wakes you is the beeping of various electronics as they come back to life. You groggily open your eyes and glance around- the clock of your Blu-ray player is flashing 12:01, but there's sunlight outside, and the battery-powered clock on the wall shows that it's just past 7:30. The faint sound of heavy machinery outside adds credence to your theory: The electric company has replaced the transformer and gotten power back up.
You pull the blanket down a little to wake Trixie up and are surprised to see that she'd moved during the night- she's now pressed against you barrel-to-stomach, with one foreleg draped over your side. Her muzzle is nestled up against your chest, and she has a ghost of a smile decorating it. Your heart just sort of does a flip-flop over how peaceful and relaxed she looks.
Maybe she feels that flip-flop, or maybe the machinery outside disturbs her, but something brings her back to the waking world. Her magenta eyes slowly blink open, focus on you, then look down at how she's laying against you, and immediately she blushes bright crimson right through her coat. “Oh! I, um... err....”
You smile. “...I don't mind,” you tell her quietly.
She just lays there for a moment, gazing up at you, and you can actually feel her heart racing. Then she buries her face against your chest. “How do you keep doing this, Donovan?” she asks.
“Doing what?”
“Surprising me the way you do. Every time I think I've hit the limit of how understanding you could possibly be, there you go, surpassing the boundaries.”
“Yeah, well....” You try to come up with some metaphor, some silly turn of phrase to describe how you feel, but it doesn't seem quite right to do it. Instead, for once, you just speak from your heart. “...I care about you, Trixie.”
She's hugging you, now, apparently as tightly as she can. You never knew those forelegs were so strong. “I care about you too, Donovan,” she says into your chest.
“...do you care about my ribcage, too?” you manage to grunt out.
“Wha... oh!” She lets out a soft laugh as she releases you. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”
You ruffle her mane playfully. “It's fine. I'll survive. ...probably.”
The two of you share a chuckle as you clamber off of the couch and get started cleaning up for the morning.
(-)
You hum softly to yourself as you push a shopping cart down the aisle of the local supermarket. You can't help it- the song's been stuck in your head since your performances in San Mateo. You and Trixie worked the entire grand finale around it, tricks and illusions paced to its rhythm, the driving beat so exciting to human instincts.
The success of the show allayed any of Trixie's fears of being able to appeal to an audience of your species. To put it mildly, they ate it up . You'd checked the online reviews after the shows, and one of the biggest “likes” you saw was the role-reversal- Trixie being the stern, serious one, and you being the laid-back jokester, played against all the typical pony and human stereotypes, to great effect. They also loved the pacing with the music and the lighting effects as well. Much to Trixie's surprise, more than a few ponies had given the show high marks as well- not to mention a griffon. She'd underestimated the overlap between species, and she's spent no small amount of time since then rethinking several aspects of the act.
Not right now, though. Right now she's giving the salad dressing section a critical look. “Blast, they're out of balsamic vinaigrette,” she mutters. “Donovan, how do you feel about parmesian peppercorn?”
You place a couple of jars of spaghetti sauce in your cart. “Doesn't agree with me.”
“Hm. Bruschetta?”
“I don't think I've tried that, actually.” You look down the aisle and see a woman with her son glancing towards you; the boy is gesturing excitedly. “We could give it a shot.”
“All right, then.” She levitates the bottle into the cart, and you hear her trot back towards you as you kneel down to see if there's any egg noodles left on the shelf. “Now, let's see what else is... oh, hello!”
You glance up to see that the child and his mother are now standing next to your cart; she looks slightly embarrassed, while he is practically bouncing on his heels. “Err, hello,” the woman says. “I'm sorry to bother you, but my son remembers you from your show, and....”
“And I wanted to see if I could get the autograph of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” he finishes.
Trixie blinks at this in apparent surprise. “Well... why, of course!” she says after a moment, glancing around. The pad with your shopping list on it is still in the cart, and quickly she tears off a fresh sheet and levitates the pen into position. “And what is your name, young man?”
“I'm Darrell!”
Trixie smiles as the pen begins to move. “Dear Darrell: Imagination is magic, and yours can take you anywhere.” She finishes this with her customary signature, a stylized “T” with a star. “There you are!” she says, handing the paper to Darrell, who smiles- and then turns to you. “Can I get yours too, Mr. Trellis?”
You're pretty sure that your jaw drops for a moment. “Um... uh, sure! I'd be glad to.” Trixie levitates the pen and pad into your hands, and you think for a moment of what to write. “Darrell: Nothing is impossible until you believe it is. Stand tall and reach high.” On a whim, you write a stylized “DT” at the end of it. “There you go, kiddo,” you say, giving him the paper.
“Awesome!” He clutches both sheets to his chest before carefully folding them up and putting them in his coat pocket. “Thanks so much!”
His mother smiles. “Yes, thank you. It's good to see some nice celebrities who'll make time for their fans.”
“If we don't appreciate our fans, why should they appreciate us?” Trixie replies. “Have a good day, both of you.”
The mother and son head back down the aisle, and Trixie turns to you. “So... your very first autograph request, I take it?” She's grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Uh... yeah.” You rub the back of your neck and return her grin with a sheepish one. “Assistant stunt coordinators don't often get asked for autographs.”
“Ah, but that's not what you are anymore.” She playfully brushes against your side. “You're an honest-to-Luna celebrity now. Get used to it... I imagine that'll be far from your only fan.”
“If that's the case... I'm going to need to come up with a better catchphrase to sign.”
“No argument here.” She gives you a teasing grin as you stick your tongue out at her.
(-)
It's two and a half weeks until your Ponyville show. You and Trixie have been going over everything with a fine-tooth comb, looking for ways to improve upon every aspect, to make this THE definitive version of the act. You've both been skirting the edge of exhaustion, almost getting into fights a couple of times before realizing how overstressed you've been.
So when Trixie got an Email from Twilight Sparkle asking both of you to stop by Ponyville to discuss some particulars about the show, you both took it as a welcome excuse to get away from planning for just a little while and decompress. And so that's why you and Trixie are disembarking from the Friendship Express at Ponyville Station once again. “It's rather odd that she'd pick today to have us discuss things,” Trixie says as you head down the platform and towards the town.
You shrug. “Could be held-up paperwork, could be a problem with the space requirements for the new stage... who knows?”
You both head inside the library despite the “Sorry, We're Closed” sign; Twilight's Email had specifically said she'd be closing down the library to allow for an uninterrupted meeting. However, that doesn't explain how dark it is inside- the curtains are drawn tightly shut, and none of the usual lights are lit. “Um....” Trixie begins.
And then the lights come on.
“SURPRISE! Happy birthday, Trixie!”
Your friend is frozen there, eyes wide and jaw dropped, as Twilight, her friends and a couple dozen others seem to appear out of nowhere. Only now can you see the “Happy Birthday” banner hung across the ceiling and no small number of balloons tied to seemingly every surface. “B- buh....” Trixie stammers. “But... how... how did....”
“How'd we know it was your birthday? Oh, we got a little information from someone on the inside.” Twilight shoots you a grin, and Trixie turns to look at you. “I stole a peek at your ID card,” you admit. “I was curious. When we decided to hold our show here just a couple of weeks after it, I figured... why not ask Twilight if she'd mind hosting a surprise party for you?”
“But... everything's been so hectic lately, even I forgot my birthday was coming up!” Trixie shakes her head slowly, bringing a hoof to her forehead. “I... this is....”
“Pssh. Relax, silly filly!” Pinkie Pie bounces up to her, somehow managing to balance a plate with a slice of cake on it atop her poofy-maned head. “Here ya go! The first slice of birthday cake for the birthday girl.”
Trixie carefully levitates the plate down and spears a morsel of cake with the fork, then pops it into her mouth. Then she glances back at you again. “And did my ID card tell you that double-chocolate cake with mint frosting is my favorite kind?”
“Nope. That was all Pinkie.” You motion to the pink pony, who grins. “Just a lucky guess!” she exclaims. “And, well, maybe just a little psychology.” She gives Trixie a sly wink before she turns to the other guests. “Okay, everyone! Dig in!”
As the guests mingle about to get various snacks and treats, you make your way over to Twilight. “I have to admit,” you tell her, “knowing about Pinkie's reputation, I was worried that she'd try to pack every last Ponyvillian in here.”
Twilight chuckles. “Maybe a couple of years ago she would've. But she's come to learn the value of being subdued.”
“Yep!” Pinkie suddenly pops up from behind a table. “ 'Cause the party should be the best it can be for the party pony! And if the party pony would rather have a small party... well, then, I just concentrate all the awesome into a smaller size!”
You give her a smile. “I appreciate it, Pinkie. I think Trixie does too.”
“No problemo, Donovan-o! Now go get some cake! Plenty for everyone!”
You do just that, helping yourself to a plateful of cake- and it really is good, too, hoofmade with love and so moist and delicious - before returning to Trixie's side. She gently brushes against your side. “You are never going to stop surprising me, are you?” she asks quietly.
“Not if I can help it.” You chuckle to yourself as you take one of the napkins you're holding under your plate and brush away a bit of icing and few crumbs from her muzzle. “Hey, I was saving that for later,” she snickers. “We are definitely taking some of this home.”
“No kidding. I'm tempted to run out and price handcart rentals.”
The party is enjoyable, with the small crowd making for a relaxed atmosphere. You have the idea at first to hang back and let Trixie enjoy her special day, but every time you do, she makes a point of coming near you or asking you to help her with something. It doesn't take you long to realize she wants you with her here, to share the experience. Truth be told, it makes you feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside.
You're by yourself for a short while as Trixie heads off to the “little fillies' room”, when you hear someone clearing their throat behind you. You turn to find a rather young-looking griffon hen watching you. “Hey, dude,” she says. “Mind if I talk with you for a bit?”
“No, not at all.” You extend a hand, and she shakes it carefully- much to your relief; those talons are pretty sharp. “I'm Donovan.”
“Heh. I know who you are. I caught one of your shows out in Neighbraska. It was pretty fun.” She grins, an impressive feat with a beak. “I'm Gilda.”
“Nice to meet you, Gilda. What did you want to talk about?”
“Heh. Okay. This is gonna sound kinda weird, especially coming from somebody you don't know, but....” She shifts uncomfortably. “You and Trixie there. Are you two... um... together?”
“To... gether?” The question is so out from left field that it actually takes you a few seconds to comprehend it. “I, er....”
“Hey, I'm not trying to, y'know, put you on the spot or anything. You can just tell me to blow off and I'll be cool with it. It's just, uh....” She scratches the back of her head. “It's kind of a personal thing.”
You look her over for a moment. She's somehow managing to look both uncomfortable and eager, which is a really neat trick. She doesn't seem like she means you any harm, though, so you come up with a sort of compromise. “I'll tell you what. You tell me why you want to know, and then I promise to give you an honest answer.”
“Heh. Well, I suppose that-” She's suddenly interrupted by a voice behind her. “Hey, G!” someone calls out; both of you turn to look. Rainbow Dash is approaching you, a small tray of drinks balanced on her back. She gives you a brief smile by way of hello. “Hey, you're Donovan, huh?” she asks. “Nice to meetcha. Looks like you already met my henfriend, Gilda.”
Henfriend? Suddenly you get an inkling of the purpose behind Gilda's question. “That's right,” you tell the pegasus. “Good to meet you as well.”
She shakes your offered hand. “Awesome. Hey, lemme tell ya... it's nice to see Trixie changed, y'know? Used to be she was a real chump, but it looks like she turned things around. Shoulda guessed that finding a good friend could do that.” She grins at you. “Oh, hey, want a drink? I was bringing one for G here, but I've got a spare.”
“I'll pass, but thanks.” Next to you, Gilda takes the offered drink and gives Dash a look you can't read, but apparently she can. “Oh, um, I better go snag some crepes before they're all gone,” Dash says, giving the tables a glance. “Back in a few.”
She's gone in a flash of rainbow-colored mane. You look back at Gilda, who's nursing her drink with a sheepish smile. “I guess that answered my question for me,” you say. “So if you don't mind me indulging my curiosity... how long?”
“A bit over two years.” She swirls the drink in its glass slowly. “I knew her since our days back in flight school, but... y'know, to be honest, I was a jerk. One day I blew into town, belittled her friends, tried to get her to ditch them. No surprise she picked them over me.” A short pause as she takes a few gulps. “Spent a little while hating her, then hating her friends, then hating myself. Then I finally got it in my head that, hey, maybe I ought to apologize and try not be such a jerk, y'know?” She chuckles. “Turns out her new friends weren't as lame as I thought. I just had to tell them I was sorry and wanted to change, and they were cool with the whole thing.”
You nod. “Ponies tend to be good about that.”
“Heh, you ain't kiddin'. So then... catching back up with Dash, you know, seeing all the stuff she does now being one of the Elements, I realized how much she's changed. I was... honestly impressed, really. Then I started falling for her.”
You nod once again. “But, as my keen eyes and sharp mind have detected, she's a pony and you're a griffon.”
“A regular Fetlock Holmes, you are.” She chuckles. “Yeah. Not exactly a common relationship. Not that her friends mind at all, adorable goofs that they are, but some others... not so understanding.” She ruffles her wings a little. “I get more noise about it from other griffons than from ponies. You know how the hoofed ones are, love and tolerance.”
“There's worse things,” you answer with a smile.
“Wouldn't argue. So... when I saw you and Trixie there being close, I just wondered if, you know....” She gazes down at the floor.
“...if maybe you'd found another interspecies couple like you and Rainbow Dash?” you finish for her.
“Yeeeeeeah.” She shrugs and lets out a little sigh. “It's stupid, I admit. It's not like I'm insecure or anything, and you're never going to hear me say I regret anything about it. But feeling like you're the only one of any sort of group around... it's really not the most pleasant thing.”
You nod in understanding. “Well... Trixie and I are close, yeah. I don't know if what we have is a 'relationship'... we've never actually talked about it, believe it or not.”
“It can't just be business.” Gilda smirks. How does she do that with a beak? “You two look pretty comfortable with each other.”
“Well, no, it's hardly 'just business'. Not anymore.” You rub the back of your head, just a little embarrassed. The griffon grins. “Hey, dude, it's cool. I've been in that spot myself. Maybe I gave you something to think about, huh?” She extends her claw, and you shake it again. “But really, I appreciate you hearing me out and being honest with me. You're an alright guy, Donovan.”
“You're pretty alright yourself.” You smile. “Coming to our show in a couple of weeks?”
“Wouldn't miss it.” Gilda glances behind you. “Ah, here comes Trixie. I'll let you get back to her.” Another grin. “Thanks again, dude. Take it easy.”
“You too.” You turn to see Trixie approaching you. She seems a little thoughtful, though otherwise happy. “Sorry I took so long,” she tells you.
“No worries. Everything okay?”
She gently leans against you and gives you a soft smile. “Right now... everything is wonderful.”
It's a fun party for the rest of the day, with a couple of presents for Trixie- Rarity has made her a beautiful cloak, which will be perfect for the show; you and Trixie decide to put her name in the promotional materials in thanks- as well as some singing and some party games. Twilight in particular seems interested in how well humans handle Pin The Tail On The Dragon... in your case, at least, the answer is “stumble around and fall over a couple of times without even getting close”.
Eventually, though, as all parties must, this one comes to a close. Trixie says her thanks to Twilight and her friends, as do you. And as you and Trixie head back towards the train, you realize that the steady weight of stress and anticipation that has been weighing down on you over the last couple of weeks is mercifully gone. Trixie seems a little more spry as well. “Donovan?” she says as you both settle down on the bench atop the platform.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you again. Thank you for putting up with me despite how hectic everything's been, and thank you for the party.”
“Well, if we're thanking each other for things, what about you? Taking care of me while I was recovering from my head injury, that time you brought a bucket for me when I had the stomach flu, and the one morning you made bacon and eggs for me....”
She chuckles. “I live with an omnivore. I can adapt.”
“But still, I know you don't like handling meat products. And anyway- when you've washed out a bucket of vomit for someone, that's some true friendship right there.” You put an arm over her back. “Go ahead, try to deny it. You can't.”
She makes a show of trying to come up with an argument before bursting out in laughter. “All right, all right, I give. It helps that, again, I don't wish to argue the point.” She leans in against you, her breath still smelling like punch and candy and double-chocolate cake with mint frosting. And you're looking into her eyes as deeply as she's looking into yours, and you're leaning down as she's leaning up, and you can tell her heart has suddenly sped up just like yours-
-and then the train whistle sounds, making you both jump.
Trixie puts a hoof to her chest as she glances over to the train. “Did you even hear it coming?” she asks.
You shake your head. “No. You?”
“No....” Again, she breaks out into merry laughter. “We are something else, aren't we.”
“Maybe, but we're something awesome .” You share a good laugh as you board the train. You find a nice seat all to yourselves, but you don't need most of it- Trixie is right there next to you the entire ride.
You're more than okay with that.
It's 6:50 PM, and you're in Ponyville again, standing next to the stage that you and Trixie had finally gotten set up a few hours ago. Since then, you and she have spent every minute triple-checking, quadruple-checking, and- in one or two instances- quintuple-checking everything to make absolutely sure that nothing would go wrong during the show. Meanwhile, on the other side of the thick black curtain that shielded the stage from view, you could hear the crowd begin to gather.
And what a crowd it is. With interest running high, you'd personally made a last-minute arrangement with the mayor to switch over to a small pasture just at the edge of town, to give everyone the best chance to see the stage. Benches and the like had been hastily set out to provide seating, but the crowd quickly overflowed them; there were quite a few ponies, as well as no small number of humans, some griffons, a group of Diamond Dogs, and even a few buffalo, all standing around in the meadow in front of the stage. The camera crew you'd hired for the livecast/recording of the show had to set up stands for their cameras to get clear shots above the crowds.
At this moment you're seated on a stool next to the stage, going over the routine once more in your head. You're brought out of your reverie by a familiar bespectacled muzzle appearing next to you. “My table's all set up and ready to drop the beats,” Vinyl Scratch tells you.
“Great. Thanks for agreeing to do the soundwork for us, V.S.”
“Hey, not a problem, brony. First time I've ever actually DJed a magic act. And I like your playlist.” She grins. “This'll be fun. I'll go start up the pre-act music, get the crowd warmed up for you.”
“Appreciate it.” She heads out to the stage. A moment later, Trixie trots up to you; she's bedecked in the cloak Rarity designed, and it's certainly a wonderful outfit that accentuates Trixie's look. You notice that she's attached the gem that had been on her old cape to the cloak's clasp. “Well, here we are,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ready,” you say. “How about you?”
She nods. “The same,” she tells you. “I would have expected to feel nervous or hesitant, but... right now, I'm just eager to get on the stage and start it all off.”
You glance up; the sky is thick with clouds, a special present from the local weather team to ensure that you get the best possible environment for your lighting-based tricks. You can already hear the driving beats coming from Vinyl's table, as well as some excited chattering, stomping and clapping from the audience. You take another deep breath, marveling for just a moment at how calm you feel- all the preparation has been done, and now it's just you, your friend and the stage.
You give Trixie a smile. “Let's not keep the crowd waiting, then.”
She uses the stageside controls to turn down the lights, sets the timer, then signals for you to turn on your microphone as she switches hers on. On-cue, Vinyl starts up the first song on the playlist, muted at first so that Trixie's voice can be heard over it. “Ponyville!” she calls out over the speakers, once you and she take your positions on the stage. “You've welcomed us here with all the warmth this town is known for. Tonight, we intend to repay you. With music, with mystery, with mirth, and maybe... with just a little bit of magic.”
The curtains slide open to reveal what will look to the audience to be an empty stage. You and Trixie have carefully placed matte-black curtains on thin telescoping stands, just wide enough for either of you to hide behind. The effect for the audience, as you and Trixie strut and sway between them in time to the music, is that you seem to be appearing and disappearing at random. The week and a half it took the two of you to choreograph this part pays off, as you've already got the audience cheering and clapping or stomping along to the music.
Just as the song reaches a crescendo, you trigger the stands to retract as Trixie activates the first pyrotechnic set. The shower of sparks and flame disguises the curtains lowering, and to the crowd it looks like you both appear from out of nowhere, suddenly lit up by the stage lights, you kneeling down and staring out at the audience with Trixie reared up on a platform behind you. It was a really dramatic entrance when you practiced it in front of the camera, and the crowd's reaction shows it- the applause and cheering almost drowns out the music.
You hold the pose for just a moment, then stand up with a smile as Trixie hops down next to you; both of you bow grandly. “Good evening, Ponyville!” you call out into your microphone. “Thank you for coming out tonight! I'm Donovan Trellis, and my lovely partner is the Great and Powerful Trixie.”
“Wouldn't they know that already?” Trixie counters. “Our names are on the posters outside the park!”
“Well... some of them might have gotten lost on the way to the comedy club. Anyway!” You clap your hands together. “Thank you all for coming to see us tonight. We plan to make it worth your while. Are you all ready?”
The crowd cheers loudly and applauds.
“Excellent! Handling music and soundwork tonight will be the one and only DJ PON-3, also known as Vinyl Scratch. Let's give her a round of applause!” You clap your hands and Trixie stomps her hooves along with the audience, and the musician in front of the stage waves a foreleg in acknowledgment. “Scratch, are you ready?” you ask.
She gives a nod and another wave of her hoof.
“All right then, my good mare. Drop a beat on us while we get things started!”
With deft movements and magic, the DJ drops a new record on her turntable, and you raise your hand and snap your fingers- at the precise moment Trixie hits a hoofswitch. The stagelights go out once more, and once you and Trixie have surreptitiously taken your places under cover of darkness and music, you trigger the center blacklights- which illuminate the almost ghostly-looking smoke image Trixie had quickly crafted while the lights were out. The crowd lets out an assortment of “oooh”s and “aaah”s as the images seemed to shift in time to the beat of the music, and some of them begin to clap or stomp along to the rhythm.
You and Trixie launch yourselves into the act, smoothly transitioning from trick to trick, keeping things lively with miniature musical sections or dialogue between you and her as you set up some of the more complex tricks. Soon you're about midway into the act, and one of your favorite parts is coming up- the coin trick, which requires an audience volunteer. You can tell that Trixie can barely hide her grin as she looks up at you. “Donovan, we have a problem.”
“I told you not to eat so many of those apple fritters from the cart out front.”
“That's not what I mean and you know it!” She pauses for a moment. “They really are good fritters, though. But anyway- we're going to need someone else on stage to help with this.”
“Hmm. A... volunteer, then?” You look out into the audience expectantly. Practically everyone raises a limb and waves it around excitedly, hoping to be chosen; you pick up a wireless microphone from the edge of the stage and head out into the crowd. You look across the rows of eager-looking people, searching for someone who catches your eye- there, five rows down, a cream-colored earth pony with a two-tone mane. She seems almost shy even as she waves a foreleg, apparently being prodded into volunteering by the green unicorn next to her. You make your way up to the hesitant-looking mare. “Hello there, miss,” you say, giving her a charming grin while you hold up the microphone so she can be heard by the audience. “What's your name?”
“I'm, uh... I'm Bon-Bon.”
“It's good to meet you, Miss Bon-Bon. Enjoying our show so far?”
“Oh, absolutely!” She brightens up, losing some of her hesitation. “It's loads of fun.”
“I'm glad to hear it. Say, do you think you could help us out a bit, Bon-Bon? It's nothing complex, but we could use a helping hoof.”
“I... well... sure!”
The rest of the audience applauds as you lead the mare up to the stage, where Trixie has already set up a wide stool next to a table. You have Bon-Bon take a seat where she can easily reach the table. “Now for the first part of this trick,” Trixie says, “we'll need one Equestrian bit. Sadly, I left my coinpurse in my other cloak....”
You turn towards your guest mare. “Miss Bon-Bon, would you happen to have a bit to spare?”
She blinks in surprise. “I, um....” she stammers.
“Oh, wait, you have one stashed away right here.” You reach behind her ear and produce a shiny one-bit coin. This gets a bit of applause from the audience and a surprised look from Bon-Bon; ponies always seem to be fascinated by the palming tricks and sleight-of-hand humans can do. “Now, Bon-Bon, you can see that this is nothing more than an ordinary Equestrian bit, right?”
She gives it a close look. “It seems to be, sure.”
You hold up the thick golden coin for the audience to see for a moment, then lay it down on the table. “Now, Bon-Bon, all I need you to do is to place a hoof down on this coin for us while we do our next trick. You're free to watch us perform, but please keep the coin covered.” You smile as she sets her hoof on top of the coin.
The next trick- the dartboard one, revamped to take advantage of the blacklighting- goes on around Bon-Bon as she remains seated at the table. A couple of times during the trick, you stop for a moment to show that the coin remains under Bon-Bon's hoof- until the last time you check, which is when you palm the coin and trigger the small button on the side of the table that raises a small coin-sized wooden disc under the mare's hoof just before she places it back down. She doesn't even notice the difference, and is too busy watching the act to check on the coin.
Finally, once you've finished the dartboard trick- to a thunderous round of applause; the crowd loved how you were able to pop the balloons in time with the music- you turn back towards the table. “You know, Miss Bon-Bon,” you say, “there seemed to be something a little odd about that bit, now that I think about it.” She looks at you in confusion as you stroke your chin. “When I held it up, the texture of it felt strange. Almost like I was stroking... feathers?”
“Really?” Trixie replies. “You've reminded me of a story I heard when I was a filly, about an evil wizard who experimented with dark magics. She changed wild animals into coins so that she could buy supplies for her laboratory.”
“Seems like the perfect crime... how could anyone find that out?”
“Oh, it seemed there was a flaw in the spell! When the coins became warm enough- usually through touch- the spell would fail and the animal would be transformed back to its usual shape, safe and sound. The wizard was found out, caught and arrested so that she couldn't continue her wicked magic any longer.”
“Interesting. But that's surely just a foal's tale, right? I doubt there's any of these coins actually around....” You pause for a moment. “Bon-Bon, let's have a look at that bit again.”
As her hoof lifts, the release of pressure from the disc triggers the well-hidden trapdoor underneath it- and in a shower of sparkles and confetti, a trained dove bursts upwards from the carefully-crafted box installed inside the table itself. The crowd gasps in surprise and then bursts into wild applause as the bird circles around the stage twice before landing on your outstretched arm, and you and Trixie bow before them again. “Everyone, let's hear it for Bon-Bon!” Trixie exclaims, gesturing towards the grinning mare with a flourish. “Truly a wonderful volunteer for our act.”
You escort the pony back to her seat as the audience gives her even more thunderous applause, then return to the stage. “Now, everyone, for our next trick I'd like-”
“Donovan?” Trixie fixes her gaze on you. “Aren't you forgetting something?”
“...no, I'm pretty sure I remembered to put my socks on before my shoes this time....” You glance down as if to check, as chuckles break out among the audience.
Trixie points out into the audience, at Bon-Bon. “You still owe that mare her bit.”
“Oh! I, um....” You make a show of patting yourself down and checking your pockets, then glance up at the mare. “Err... bill me?”
Laughter ripples across the crowd as you flash your best grin, getting an exasperated sigh from Trixie. “That bit's coming out of your share of the profits,” she tells you.
“Aww, but I wanted to eat this week!”
Trixie gives the audience a put-upon look, and waves a hoof at you as if to say “This is what I have to deal with”. More laughter comes from the audience as you and she take positions for the next trick- and you can't help but give your partner a quick wink and a smile, which she returns immediately. It's obvious that, despite her onstage persona, she's having just as much fun as you.
Finally, and what seems to be all too quickly, you reach the finale of the act. The huge wooden trunk you've been pulling various props out of throughout the entire show sits innocuously in the center of the stage as you lean upon it from behind, while Trixie speaks from stage front. “Now, everyone,” she says, “this last trick has been classified as dangerous. Incredibly so. In fact, the number of performers who have survived it lies in the single digits.” With every word, you let your mock expression of horror deepen. “But! We've promised to pull out every stop for your entertainment. So, Donovan....”
You duck down behind the trunk as she turns towards you. She trots towards the box to look behind it- but you're already underneath the stage, making your way towards one of the vertical supports, which also serves as a handy disguise for a trapdoor. You hear Trixie wandering the stage as you climb back up and then peek around the support, getting some laughs from the audience; you make an exaggerated “shhh” motion and glance around the support towards your partner. “Donovan, come out right this minute!” she demands.
“No!” Your hand flies to your mouth in mock horror as she spins to face towards you; you immediately duck back behind the support- and drop back under the stage, to head towards one of the other supports, as Trixie makes a show of searching the area you'd just been. Once you're back onstage, you peek around the support again. “Come on,” she says irritably. “You know I was just exaggerating about how dangerous the trick is!”
“I'm not so sure about that! ...oops.” You vanish again as she gallops over towards the support; you hear her stomping about the stage as you take position for the last part of the gag. “Donovan?!” she calls out. “Why you....” She lets out an exasperated sigh, then makes her way to stage front again. “Well. It seems I'm in need of a new partner! Any volunteers?”
You burst out from inside the trunk with an expression of mock indignation. “HEY!”
“THERE you are!” She spins around and rushes towards you, and you let out a yelp, ducking back into the trunk as she dives in after you a second later. The lid slams down behind her, and the trunk shakes around as you and she make the sounds of a tussle underneath. After a moment, you both stop. “Uh-oh,” Trixie says.
“What?”
“The lid appears to be stuck.”
“Are you kidding me? Let me find the emergency release.” You rustle around inside the box for a moment. “Argh, it's too dark to find it... hang on. I think I just bumped into a candle; let me light it.”
A moment later, the lid flies open, and you and Trixie poke your heads out, while you hold up a bright red stick with a long, sparking fuse. “Phew!” you say. “I thought we'd be stuck in there forever.”
Trixie looks towards you, and an expression of shock crosses her face. “Donovan!” she yelps.
“What?”
“That's not a candle!” She points towards what you're holding. “That's the dynamite I was going to use for the last trick!”
You and Trixie stare at each other for a moment, then turn towards the audience with matching expressions of fear- then you both duck back into the box, as the lid slams shut above you.
BOOM
The custom-crafted trunk shatters in a carefully-rigged explosion, sending its sides and top tumbling away- none of them coming close to the audience- and throwing up a huge plume of smoke and sparks. The rest of the stage lights cut out as the center-stage ones form a spotlight on the smoking remains of the trunk... and then the rear stage lights come on, showing you and Trixie standing on a platform, in a dramatic back-to-back pose with her on her hind legs, and her front legs crossed over her barrel as your arms are crossed over your chest.
After a moment of stunned realization, the audience absolutely goes wild .
The breath you were holding comes out in a short laugh that even you can't hear for all the applause and cheering, and you and Trixie dismount the platform to return to the front of the stage, both of you giving the audience the grandest bows you can. “Thank you, Ponyville!” you call out in unison, before Trixie steps forward. “We'll be having an autograph session outside Town Hall in a few minutes,” she says. “We welcome you all to bring whatever you'd like signed, and we'll also have free mini-posters available for signing as well! Thank you so much, Ponyville, and good night!”
You and she give the audience one final wave before heading offstage- and once you're out of sight, Trixie immediately throws herself into your arms, her forelegs flung over your shoulders. “We did it!” she exclaims. “I can't believe it! Everything went so wonderfully! It was even better than I expected!”
She goes quiet for a moment as you put your arms around her to support her. Her joyous smile and proud expression make your heart skip a beat, and you realize how wonderful it is to see this mare so happy- to see her years of toil and struggle finally come to fruition. And you realize she's moving her head towards yours, her eyes half-closing, and you're leaning in towards her, your head tilting a bit towards the side....
“Guys! Wow!” Vinyl Scratch comes trotting into the backstage area, her glasses raised and her red eyes wide. “I mean, I cannot believe that show you put on! It- oops.” She pauses for a moment, taking in the sight before her- you and Trixie a fraction of an inch away from a kiss. “Whoa. Um... sorry to interrupt!” she says, a grin splitting her muzzle.
“Oh! It, um....” Trixie blushes profusely- not that you can blame her; you can feel a blush on your cheeks as well- as you reluctantly put her back on her hooves. “It's alright....” your partner stammers. “We, err....”
“Nah, it's cool, you don't have to explain.” Scratch chuckles. “But seriously, you two... that was a sweet show. I almost missed a couple of music cues because I was as caught up as the audience.”
You grin. “We didn't notice. You did great work with the music, V.S.”
“Indeed!” Trixie smiles. “We can't thank you enough, Vinyl. I can't say I was a very big fan of that sort of music before... but I find it growing on me.”
“Hey, expanding the musical horizons of others is one of the things I love about what I do.” The white mare gives Trixie a cocky grin. “But hey, you two better get moving. Don't you have autographs to sign?”
“Quite true! Come on, Donovan- professional performers do not keep their fans waiting!”
What you see as you make your way to Town Hall floors the both of you. You expected a good response, sure, but it seems like every last audience member has lined up for an autograph; the queue goes on down the street for two blocks. “I think I'm in for a sore hand tonight,” you chuckle as you approach the table you'll be using.
“Along with a sore horn on my part,” Trixie replies. “But... entirely worth it!”
You both take your seats, grab a pen and get down to business providing autographs for your waiting fans. It seems that everyone who gets one has a compliment about some part of your act, a particular part they liked. The fact that pretty much every trick gets at least a few compliments gives you a good feeling- all that work you and Trixie put into making sure the show had something to appeal to everyone really paid off.
The approach of a rather sad-looking earth pony colt with what seems to be his father at his side catches your attention. “Hey, kiddo,” you say as he comes up to the table. “Something wrong?”
“Um... no! No, it's....” He trails off for a moment, until his father puts a comforting hoof on his back. “It's... um, well. You see... I always wanted to be a magician, just like you two! But some of the other foals in school give me a hard time about it. They say that I can't ever hope to perform, because I'm not a unicorn.”
You give him a smile. “Well, kiddo... what's your name?”
“I'm Copper Coin!”
“Okay, Copper. Now, let me tell you something- and don't let this get around, but....” You lean forward and give him a loud stage whisper. “I'm not a unicorn either.”
The crowd laughs at that, and it even gets the young colt out of his funk for a moment. “But you have hands,” he says. “You can do all sorts of tricks with those. I've only got hooves.” He looks down at them for a moment.
“Hooves are perhaps not as limiting as you think.” Trixie smiles. “Not everything I do is with magic!”
“Well, okay, but... how would I be able to do anything flashy?”
“Hm.” You rub your chin, considering for a moment, before turning to your partner. “Trixie?”
“Yes?”
“I think maybe what we should do is start putting up instructional videos on our site. Little 'how-to's on beginner to intermediate tricks for any prospective magician to learn from, no matter what species they are. What do you think?”
She gives you a warm smile. “I think that to be an excellent idea! Young ones like Copper Coin here should have every opportunity to follow their dreams, no matter what challenges they may face.”
“We'll do that, then.” You look down at Copper to find a broad smile replacing his earlier frown. “Wow, you'd do that?” he exclaims. “That's so awesome! I bet it'd really help!”
Your site's address is printed on the bottom of the mini-posters, so you hand over one- with your and Trixie's autographs on the back, both wishing him luck- to the excited young colt, who trots away chatting excitedly with his father. Getting a chance to help a hopeful kid follow in your footsteps gives you a unique feeling of warmth and accomplishment that rivals the success of the show.
The autographs go on- is that line getting any shorter?- and Trixie gives her pen a critical look after a while. “I think this one is going dry,” she comments.
“Good thing we've got spares.” You lean over to grab the small box under the table with spare supplies. “Ah, excellent,” you hear Trixie say. “I would hate to send any of our fans home disappointed, with...” Her voice trails off. “...oh my.”
You rise back up, pen in hand, to find out what's gotten her attention. What you find makes your jaw drop and sends the pen tumbling from your fingers.
“Well, yes, I have to admit I'd be a little put out if I couldn't get the autographs of two such talented performers.” Princess Celestia gives you a warm smile, while her sister Princess Luna lets out a good-natured chortle at your stunned, slack-jawed expression. “Pri... Princesses?” you manage to stammer out. “I, um... wow. I had no idea you two were here, Your Highnesses!”
“We certainly wouldn't have had you wait in line if we'd known!” Trixie adds, no less taken aback than you.
Luna smiles. “Forgive our mild deception, but we wished not to overshadow your performance, so mine sister and I disguised ourselves during our attendance.”
“Indeed.” Celestia chuckles, the sound practically musical. “After I read a rather unique friendship report from my faithful student, I decided that perhaps Luna and I should see how one of our subjects so remarkably overcame adversity with the help of a good human's friendship.”
You blink in confusion as her words ring a bell in your memory. “Friendship report?”
“Uh... yeah, that would've been from me.” Twilight steps out from behind the Princesses, bearing a somewhat sheepish grin. “Remember when Trixie told me about how you two met, and I commented that it'd make a great report on friendship to the Princess? Well... it ended up being one.”
“And quite the intriguing one at that.” Luna turns her gaze to Trixie. “Our little pony, you've worked very hard to come to this point, I have learned. And you have struck no small amount of difficulties along the way.” The Princess of the Night smiles broadly. “To return to this place as you have, to give yourself to the understanding of those who dwell here, and to show such magnanimity as to present such a wonderful performance... in this, has the Great and Powerful Trixie indeed proven herself to be great of heart and powerful of soul.”
“And as for her partner,” Celestia continues, turning those kind magenta eyes to you, “my good Donovan Trellis, you have shown all those wonderful traits I sensed in humanity in those days after the Discovery. You have the strength to test your own limits, so to help a friend reach her dream, and the confidence to be so open and free with yourself as you perform, to laugh at yourself along with us.” She smiles. “Truly is yours a strong partnership, blessed with the magic of friendship itself.”
For once in your life, you are completely without words. Your mind is reeling- meeting celebrities is one thing, but the Princesses of Equestria? And to have these immortal goddesses compliment you and your friend so strongly? A quick glance to your side shows that Trixie is just as flabbergasted as you. “Um....” she manages, in practically a squeak. “I... your Highnesses, I don't... I don't know what to say! The honor....”
Celestia bows her head slightly. “The honor has been all ours, Trixie. In fact, we would like to ask a favor of the two of you.”
You finally find your voice again- and use it to sound like a doofus. “Uh... sure!” you blurt out.
Luna actually giggles at your outburst, and Celestia doesn't quite hide a small grin. “A wonderful show like this deserves more exposure, I think,” the Sun Goddess says. “And after a hoofful of... well, debacles, I've decided that the Grand Galloping Gala requires something of a revamp. Could my sister and I, perhaps, persuade you to perform there? Certainly all the energy and excitement of your show could only help foster a more lively atmosphere.”
It's a wonder your jaw doesn't hit the ground hard enough to leave an impact crater. The G3 is the most talked about social event on both sides of the gateways; just about any performer of any kind would give up several vital organs to do a show there- and here you are, with a personal invitation from the Princesses themselves to do just that. You'd pinch yourself to see if you're dreaming if your brain wasn't spending all its power on going “Ohmygosh” over and over again.
Finally, you break out of your mental loop, and find yourself speaking in sync with Trixie. “Yes!”
Celestia chuckles good-naturedly. “Excellent! We'll have the relevant materials mailed to you soon. You'll have plenty of time to prepare.” She glances down at the mini-posters on the table; her horn flares, and one of them lifts up. “And in the meantime... I'd love to get your autographs.”
As you and Trixie pen your autographs for the Princesses, Luna leans in closer to you. “I must admit,” she says, “some of those tricks confound even I. How did you manage that one with the flower pot and the three bricks?”
You pause for a moment... and then, with a cheeky grin, you decide to test the sense of humor of a nigh-omnipotent goddess and the co-ruler of the nation you're standing in. “I'm sorry, Princess... but a magician never reveals his secrets.”
Trixie outright gapes at you for your brashness, but a soft laugh from Luna calms her. It's a beautiful laugh, too, and you think that the Princess of the Moon's reputation for being humorless and overly serious is probably really undeserved. “That is fair enough,” she tells you with a smile. “What is life without its mysteries, after all?”
The Princesses can't stay around after, but they give their thanks and well-wishes to the residents of Ponyville before teleporting out. The rest of the autograph session goes smoothly, with lots of chatting with the fans; Vinyl Scratch is thrilled to hear about the G3 invite and practically begs the two of you to have her work with you there as well- she's been dying for a chance to “drop a serious beat on those overstarched nobles”- and you're all too glad to agree. “You know, brony,” she says to you as you finish signing her autograph book, “not too long ago I gave you an autograph. Now you're giving me one. How's it feel to be on top of the world like this?”
You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Honestly... I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out myself.”
The DJ laughs at that. “I know that feel, D.T. But you two earned this. Don't let anyone tell you different. Right?”
Trixie smiles and nods. “Right. Thanks, Vinyl.”
Finally, the autograph session ends, and you and Trixie partially break down the stage and secure everything before deciding to leave the rest for morning. Neither of you is feeling up to the train and bus ride back home, so you rent a room at the Ponyville Inn- all the rooms are single-bed, it turns out- and order a light dinner to be delivered. You open your travel suitcase and change into a more comfortable outfit of a T-shirt and sweatpants, hanging up your dress suit and Trixie's cloak carefully before sitting on the bed next to her. “So,” you say quietly. “How do you feel?”
“I'm not sure there are words to describe it.” She rests her head on your shoulder, one foreleg wrapping around your side. “I... I dreamed of this, Donovan. Dreamed of finally having my name in lights, giving the grandest show anyone had ever seen. Those dreams can't hold a candle to what actually came to be.” She looks up at you with a smile, her eyes shimmering with tears. “It couldn't have happened without you.”
“Without us ,” you correct her. “All this, everything we've got now... we did it together, Trixie. We earned it together, just like Scratch said.” You gently put a hand on her back. “No matter what else happens from here on out... tonight? It's ours . And nobody can change that.”
She leans against you, closing her eyes for a moment, with little tears of happiness trailing down her face. And there's a gentle smile on her lips that makes her look so beautiful to you, and you find yourself leaning in, brushing away one of the tears with your fingertips, bringing your lips to hers-
knock-knock “Room service!”
You and Trixie both let out a slightly-irritated sigh, and you leave her side to go to the door and get your meal. The food is definitely good, filling your stomachs despite the smaller portions you ordered; by the time you've finished, the exhaustion of the night is definitely catching up to you. You both climb into bed and shut off the lights, and in the darkness you find Trixie pressing herself against you, snuggling into your embrace as you fold your arms around her. She lets out a quiet sound of contentment. “I think,” she murmurs, her voice already thick with sleepiness, “that right now I am happier than any mare has a right to be.”
“I think I should challenge that limit,” you chuckle, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Tomorrow. In the meantime... sleep well, Trixie.”
“You too, Donovan.”
And, with the warm feeling of contentment paired with the warmth of Trixie's body, it takes you almost no time at all to fall into a deep, comfortable sleep.
A rare author's note from me. Remember that "mature" rating? That "sex" tag? That warning in the summary? Well, here's where they're earned. If you don't want to see a fairly graphic depiction of sexual relations between a male human and a female magical pony, then quit reading when you see the -M- sign. If that's what you're here for, though... well, you know what to look for!
--
“Honestly, Donovan. I'll freely admit that, even as a unicorn, sometimes I envy you humans and your hands. But I certainly don't covet the back problems your species seems to end up with so often!”
You manage a chuckle through the sharp pain shooting up your back. “Evolutionary tradeoff,” you tell her, not quite able to keep from clenching your teeth.
“Indeed.” She gets you to sit down on the couch. “Wait here. I'll get you some ibuprofen.” She heads towards the bathroom for a moment, to come back levitating two small white pills and a cup full of water; she gives both to you, and you manage to take the medication despite the pain simply raising your arm causes. “Seriously, though, Donovan, I hope that muscle isn't torn. It looked like you did a number to it.”
“It doesn't seem like it.” You attempt to test your range of motion. “No... feels more like it's just really badly pulled.”
“Okay. I was getting ready to get you to the hospital.” She lets out an obvious sigh of relief. “Donovan, I'm finding your propensity towards getting injured around me to be a little concerning!”
You can't help but laugh. “Oh, I was hurting myself in stupid ways for years before we met,” you tell her. “Broken arm from falling off my bike when I was thirteen, dislocated shoulder from taking a spill in a parking lot after an unexpected ice storm about six years ago... lost two teeth when I was eight and decided that my blanket would do well enough as a superhero cape to let me fly from the second-story window. I think there's still an impression of my face in the backyard lawn.”
She covers her mouth with a hoof in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle a laugh. “Goodness. I don't feel quite so bad now.” She looks you over for a moment, considering. “Maybe I can do something to help you out here.”
“Hm?” You raise an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”
“Healing magic is far from my strong suit, but traveling alone means I've had to learn a couple of spells in that school. I can at least accelerate your natural healing and relieve some of the pain. Between that and the ibuprofen, you should be feeling better in a bit.” She pauses for a moment. “And maybe a good massage will help things along as well.”
“Massage?” Of course; you forgot that ponies are just as talented at bodywork as humans. It's a funny fact that cross-species popularity in the field is high- ponies adore the feel of fingers, but humans with sore backs and limbs love firm hooves against their muscles. You've never given it a try. “I'd really appreciate it, if you don't mind,” you tell her.
“I'd be glad to. Let's get that shirt off of you, and have you lay down on your bed so I have room to work.” Her magic is nimble enough to unbutton your shirt and ease it off of you, and she levitates it along as she heads with you to your bedroom, laying the garment across your dresser as you carefully flop face-first onto your mattress. “Okay, now relax,” she tells you. “I know this spell is safe for use on humans, but it'll be a lot more effective if you hold still.”
You feel her hop onto the bed next to you, and the bright glow from her horn reflects off of the headboard. After a moment, a strange sensation spreads across your bare back, as though she's spilled warm tea on you. Then, incredibly, you feel the warmth sink beneath your skin, little pins-and-needles sensations springing up where it touches your pulled muscle. You can't help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel it begin to work on the tightness in your back, letting the muscles relax bit by bit. “How is that?” she asks.
“Can't even begin to describe it,” you murmur, knowing but not caring that you have the goofiest look of bliss on your face. You hear her chuckle. “Never had magic used directly on you before?” she wonders.
“Only that unicorn technician at the hospital, but that examination spell was passive.”
“Ahh. It takes a little getting used to, I know.” Eventually, the sensation fades. “So how is your back feeling now?”
“Infinitely better.”
“Excellent. And now....” You expect to feel the semi-flat surface of her hoof on your back, but instead there's a yielding force that takes you a moment to recognize as her arcanokinetic field. You manage to look over your shoulder and see that she's encased her own front hooves in her magic. “I'm no professional,” she admits with a smile. “I want to go a little easier on you than I might be able to with just my hooves.”
“I appreciate it.” You settle back down, and her magic-shod hooves press gently into your back. You're not an expert in receiving massages, but it certainly feels like Trixie knows what she's doing; she gently kneads and rubs at the sore points in your back, working at the muscles, and the sharp spikes of pain are immediately followed by blessed relief as the muscle fibers relax.
Though it feels like forever, you know Trixie's only been at this for a couple of minutes when you hear her voice. “Donovan?”
“Hmm?”
“There's... something I've been meaning to ask you for a while.”
“I don't think it's possible for me to be in a better mood than this for answering questions. Shoot.”
“Well, that's encouraging.” You hear a chuckle. “I... um. Donovan, when we first agreed to this living arrangement, I was... expecting difficulties.”
“What kind, exactly?”
“Erm... well.” Her gentle massaging tapers off for a moment. “I had the expectation that... you being a young, able-bodied and certainly not unattractive man living alone, I would have to be careful not to interrupt... visitations.”
The way she says that last word makes you realize that she's not talking about Aunt Florence and Uncle Mike coming down from Seattle for a week. “...visitations,” you echo, just to be absolutely sure you and she are on the same subject.
“Err... yes.” You can almost feel her blushing. “I'd been worried for some time that I was, maybe... um. Being a wet blanket?”
You have to laugh, even though you can sense the confusion it causes her. “Trixie, no, that's not how it's been at all,” you tell her. “Let's just say... when you and I met, I was struggling with my career and my self-esteem, and I don't like pursuing... visitations... from that mindset. And after that... well, when did either of us have time?” You chuckle.
“Ahhh.” Her ministrations resume, and you let your head fall back down onto the pillow. “I find that both relieving and somewhat reassuring.”
“How do- oof - you mean?” She's just hit a particularly tight spot, and you feel her lighten the pressure, stroking gently along the “grain” of the muscle.
“Well, for one, the last thing I would want to do is be a wet blanket on the personal life of a handsome young man. And for another, it speaks well of your character that you don't simply... um... 'indulge' to make yourself feel better.”
“Not my style.” You chuckle. “Not that I'm adverse to a night with someone who strikes me a certain way, but... I'd rather there be some sort of meaning to it.”
“Something of a rare one you are, for man or stallion.” She laughs quietly. “Don't get me wrong... I understand that males have desires, and there's nothing wrong that.”
“I've heard ponies are a little more open about that sort of thing. Which is why I sort of wondered at the start of it all if maybe I might be accidentally cramping your style.”
“Mmh.” She goes quiet for a moment. “If I may be frank?”
“I'd be upset if you weren't.”
“The supremely self-confident superstar I pretended to be couldn't find any stallions who lived up to her exacting standards. The emotional wreck that I actually was couldn't risk rejection. So... let's just say 'fat chance', and 'it's been a while'.”
“Oof.” You'd probably give her a gentle pat or a hug if you weren't prone. “Conditions have changed, though. I'd say you have your pick of just about any stallion who catches your fancy.”
“Perhaps.” Her movements slow again, and she's quiet for a moment. “But... I think I would prefer to choose somepony whom I know cares for me , not just the Great and Powerful Trixie.” Another moment of silence from her, then: “Someone who has been there for me even in the difficult times.”
You feel her lean forward, and then the gentle touch of her lips between your shoulder blades. You can't help but shiver at the sensation. “Trixie...?” you murmur.
“Donovan, I....” She kneads at the small of your back. “Perhaps I have a confession to make. Back at the birthday party... do you remember that I was gone for a little while? Off to 'powder my nose', as they say.”
“I do, yeah. I actually had a strange conversation while you were gone... I never did remember to tell you about it.”
“You did as well? What happened?”
You're a little surprised by the 'as well' part, but you relay to her the discussion you and Gilda had at the party. “How bizarre,” Trixie comments, still guiding her hooves along your back. “Because the reason that I'd taken so long was due to me stopping to have a conversation with Twilight Sparkle about a very similar subject. Are you familiar with her friend Fluttershy?”
“Butter-yellow pegasus, sweetest pony in the world, lives up to the second half of her name with a vengeance? I got to talk to her a bit at the party... after she stopped hiding behind her mane.”
Trixie giggles. “That is her, certainly. It turns out that she's in a cross-species relationship as well... with a human.”
“Huh.” Well, it's not exactly some rare thing, you understand; free-flowing visitation between worlds- up to a point- and commingling between a number of intelligent species would eventually lead to this. If Gilda and Rainbow Dash are any indication, this sort of thing happened in Equestria long before the Discovery. It's still something of a touchy subject amongst humans, though. “Why'd she bring that up?”
“She wanted to warn me of some of the difficulties of cross-species relationships, believe it or not. Apparently, Fluttershy and her boyfriend- a young man named Antonio, according to Twilight, who hadn't been able to make it to the party- have seen some issues crop up, and as Twilight believed you and I were in a relationship as well, she wanted to give me advice.”
“What did you tell her in response? As to us being in a relationship, that is.”
“I... wasn't sure what to tell her, to be honest. We aren't just business partners or co-stars in the act... we really haven't been in a while. I....” She falls silent for a moment. “I've never made a secret that I care for you, Donovan, but sometimes I shock myself with just how much I do so.”
You're quiet for a moment, not sure what to say, but you feel a need to respond some how before she misconstrues your silence. “I've... been feeling the same way about you, to be honest. I just... it's been difficult to wrap my head around, let alone talk about.”
“I understand how you feel, Donovan.” Slowly, she moves away from your back so that she can sit down on the bed next to you; you roll over so that you can look at her, and see an expression of worry that no doubt mirrors your own. “I think... we should settle where we stand. One thing I detest is uncertainty.”
“I think you're right.” Carefully- your back definitely hurts much less than before, but it's not completely healed, and you'd rather not undo all of Trixie's work by being careless- you bring yourself to sit up against the headboard; Trixie hesitates in joining you for a moment before you signal her to do so. “Let's talk, Trixie.”
She nods slowly, letting out a soft sigh. “Donovan, there's no doubt in my mind that if you hadn't come into my life, I'd now be washing dishes and waiting tables in some run-down old diner back in Equestria. But beyond that... I'd still be the old Trixie, wrapped up in my conceits and fears. You saved me from that, too, and I don't know that I can ever truly repay you for that.”
“You don't have to,” you reply.
“I know, but....” She goes quiet for a moment, looking down at her hooves. “It's not that I consider it some kind of debt to pay off. It's more... reciprocity that I'm after. I want to be the sort of pony who deserves what you've given me, Donovan.”
“What confuses me is that you don't think you already are.” You gently rub her neck. “Seriously, even if I hadn't been getting desperate for gainful employment when you called... you're the one who got me onto the stage instead of behind it. I never would've known how fun it is to perform if not for you. At best, I'd still be an assistant stunt coordinator, watching from behind the scenes and asking for autographs. Now? Now I'm the one giving them. All because of a certain blue mare.” You tap her nose.
She smiles, crinkling her nose a little. “You had the talent. I just managed to get you to express it.”
“A miracle in itself. Seriously. I can call Princess Celestia right now, get her to evaluate it. Don't think she wouldn't agree with me!” You make as if to reach for the phone on the bedstand, and she practically clambers over you, laughing, to stop you. “Okay, okay!” she giggles, half-sprawled across your chest, forelegs reaching out to grab your arm. “Good Goddesses, I have half a mind to believe you actually would !”
“Never doubt my determination to win silly arguments.” You settle back down, scooting your way down the bed a bit so you can lay flat and not have to stretch your back. This has the effect of bringing Trixie's face a little closer to yours, leaving her barrel pressed against your chest and her hindlegs tucked up next to your side. You reflexively put your arm over her, letting your hand rest against the base of her neck; she lets out a soft sigh and closes her eyes for a moment, obviously pleased. “Donovan, I....” she begins, but trails off.
You open your mouth to ask her what she wants to say, but likewise find yourself tongue-tied. Her eyes- those amazingly expressive magenta eyes- are locked onto yours, quivering just a little, seeming to gaze deep into your soul as she begins to pull herself forward, slowly . It takes you a moment to realize that you're leaning forward as well, as much as you can from your position.
You half-expect some interruption to make itself known like every other time you've found yourself in this situation, your mind coming up with ever more convoluted possibilities- from a simple phone call, to Filly Scouts ringing the doorbell, to meteorites crashing through the roof. The touch of warmth against your lips brings that train of thought to a crashing halt, and you wrap both of your arms around Trixie as you share a gentle, tender kiss with her. The sensation is even better than you could have imagined... she's so warm, so soft, and you just want to melt into her gentle embrace and never leave.
The kiss lasts for what seems to be forever before you both break it, and you and she both blurt out a single sentence at the same time.
“I love you.”
It'd be physically impossible for your eyes to get as wide as hers, but that doesn't stop them from trying. You can feel her trembling against you, and the press of hide to skin means that her racing heart almost seems to be inside your chest. “D- Donovan....” she half-whispers. “Do... do you mean that?
It takes you a moment to find your voice and get it out of your suddenly-dry mouth. “As much as you do,” you tell her.
It seems like the instant you finish talking, she's wrapped herself around you, crying softly. “Donovan, I haven't heard that said to me in a very long time,” she sniffles. “And to hear you say it... it's... Donovan, I....” She simply breaks down right there in your arms, her tears dripping onto your bare chest, and you hug her tightly against you.
It takes her a couple of minutes to collect herself. “Well... I feel a little foalish now,” she admits, rubbing at her eyes with a foreleg. “I'm sorry, Donovan. I just was a little overwhelmed.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” You place a gentle kiss on her forehead, right by her horn, careful not to jab yourself on it. “This is... yeah, I guess 'a little overwhelming' is a good way to put it.” You run your palm up and down her neck, getting her to close her eyes and lean into the gentle rubbing.
“Let us... just go slow, then. This is something I am willing to explore carefully.” She nestles her head against your chest, leaving a soft kiss against it. “No rush,” you reply, gently running your fingers through her mane. “I'm in no hurry. This is new territory for me, but I think I like the scenery... and who I'm seeing it with.”
“Mmmh. I like how you put that.” She smiles up at you for a moment before her expression becomes thoughtful. “And... I have an idea for you.”
“What's that?”
“Well, if Gilda is upset over other griffons' reactions to her relationship with Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy and Antonio have seen the problems that a pony-human relationship can have... then perhaps a triple date might be in order? An exchange of advice and a little camaraderie for those in a unique situation.”
You think that over. It certainly can't hurt- you've met three of the four principals in her proposal, even if only for a short while, and it'll be a nice way of going out for a little socializing without any sort of pressure. Any sort of advice you could get for what a human-pony relationship might entail would be icing on the cake. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you tell her.
“Excellent!” She smiles as she slowly gets to her hooves and hops off the bed. “Now you stay here and rest that back, while I get my laptop and send Twilight an Email to coordinate this.”
You're happy enough to do so, gazing up at the ceiling as you hear her hooffalls fade out through the bedroom door. You're still in a bit of shock; you certainly hadn't expected this to be the outcome when you wrenched your back earlier. But you also feel a warm contentment spread through you as you think about what just happened. That Trixie- that sweet, beautiful, brilliant mare- not only understands your feelings, but shares them... it makes you happier than you could have ever expected.
But then again, you muse, life has a way of surprising you. And surprises like this are definitely the best ones.
(-)
“And then... he bit my rump.”
You stare incredulously at Rainbow Dash. “Okay, I don't even need to be a pony to know that that little ploy can't have had the effect he wanted.”
“You're a smarter pony than he was!” The cyan pegasus gives you a grin. “Yeah, I guess he thought it was going to be a real turn-on.” She pauses a moment to have another bite of her sandwich and a swig of soda. “And, okay, maybe it might have been under other circumstances- but not at a party, and seriously not when I'm already waiting for an excuse to buck him right in the mouth. Which, I'm not entirely proud to say, I ended up doing.”
“Well, I certainly won't say he didn't have it coming!” Trixie raises her mug towards Dash.
“Ha! You know it, Trix. But still... time and place, y'know? Sometimes it's not worth it to start a scene, especially during what's supposed to be a special night for one of my friends. I had to do a little overtime schmoozing to calm things down after that.” Dash puts her glass back down and settles into her chair again. “No offense to you guys,” she says, giving you and Antonio apologetic glances, “but sometimes males are dense .”
“No offense taken! Sometimes we are.” Antonio chuckles, glancing over at you for affirmation, which you give him with a nod. “Though really, that overgrown colt was pushing the limits. There's thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy, and then there's just sending your brain home early.”
“Ha! Universal truth there, man.” Gilda grins at the human. “Not just your side of the gender divide either. I've known some girls who just had their brains located in the hind end.”
Fluttershy gazes down at her plate for a moment. “I'm so sorry I ended up introducing you two, Rainbow. I had no idea Cloudwing would be so... so....”
“Scat-brained? That's what Rarity calls him, and hay, for once I totally agree with her.” Dash smiles. “But hey, no fault of yours, 'Shy. That little episode took all of us by surprise. I mean, I'd been dating him for two months and I had no idea he'd pull that sort of thing. He was doing a good job of hiding the crazy.”
Fluttershy looks set to continue apologizing, but Antonio gently pats her side, and she gives him a slight smile. “I... guess you're right, Dash. Some ponies have hidden depths... and some have hidden shallows.”
As everyone else in the enclosed booth laughs at the pun, you take a moment to look over the yellow pegasus and her boyfriend. Now, on the surface, Antonio Garza is the kind of guy you have a little trouble getting along with- extroverted almost to the point of ridiculousness, seemingly always in command of whatever conversation or event is happening around him. But you've seen that, at least around Fluttershy, he reins that in... and in turn she seems to come out of her shell more around him. It's one of those yin-yang relationships that makes the differences between you and Trixie pale in comparison.
You take notice of Gilda as she spears another slice of salmon on a fork. She looks relaxed and content; it's easy to see that this get-together has had a good effect on her, and you can't help but feel a little proud that you helped with that. A pity that it was simple ignornace that kept this from happening sooner... no one in their circle of friends was really aware of both of these relationships and their difficulties; you're absolutely sure they would've done something to help otherwise. “So hey, whatever did happen to Cloudbrain, anyway?” she asks once the laughter has settled down.
Dash finishes off her second sandwich; you've heard about pegasus metabolism, but she can pack it in with the best of them. The amount of energy she must burn off to keep that athletic figure must be considerable. “Last I heard, he was shacking up with Diamond Tiara,” she says. “The two couldn't be more deserving of each other.”
“Diamond Tiara?” Trixie repeats.
“Stuck-up overgrown filly with a chip on both shoulders.” Dash scowls. “And not somepony you and Donovan want to run across unless you want an earful of speciesist crud spewed at you.”
“Ugh. Don't get me started on her.” An uncharacteristic frown crosses Antonio's face. “Look- Don, Trix, I try to get along with everybody. Don't have a problem with anyone who don't have a problem with me, you know?” Fluttershy smiles at him as he talks, rubbing his arm with a hoof. “Tiara's got a problem with anyone who isn't just like her. Not just on the 'if you're not a pony you're a beast' front, but if you're not in her tax bracket or social circles, you might as well be a toad in her eyes.”
“I... I don't like to say bad things about others.” Fluttershy nudges a cherry tomato around her plate with a fork. “But Diamond Tiara has been an insufferable bully ever since she was a filly. She even managed to drive away the one pony who tried to be her friend, Silver Spoon. At least that mare outgrew her bully ways.”
“Yeah, I have a hard time believing that Spoonie was ever friends with that harpie. She's a total sweetheart now, almost as much as 'Shy here.” Antonio rubs Fluttershy's cheek, eliciting a warm smile from the pegasus.
You raise your hand. “Tony, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Not at all, man, shoot.”
“You know Trixie and I are still new to the whole cross-species relationship thing. We both also live on Earth. Any advice you can give on dealing with peoples' reactions?”
“Ooooh, man... that's a tough one, Don. After 'Shy and I got together, I moved off Earth here to Ponyville partly to avoid that sort of thing. It can be rough, I've gotta warn you on that.”
“Is it really that bad?” Gilda asks. “I mean, some of my family moved to Denver, so I've been Earth-side plenty of times to visit, and I never got any sort of noise from the locals for being a griffon... I guess I was hoping that the acceptance went the full distance.”
“It really depends on where you go, Gilly. When I lived in Texas, there were some places that practically celebrated having other species around- I mean, the city manager of Plano married a minotaur; the town had a huge parade and everything. But there were other towns that really took an unkind eye towards it.”
“Just a sad facet of human nature, I guess,” you say with a sigh.
“Nuh-uh.” Dash puts both forehooves on the table and looks directly at you. “Just a sad facet of nature , period. I could tell you about some ponies in Canterlot- never mind different species or same sex; they'd give the stink-eye to anypony who even kissed a unicorn but wasn't one themselves. Dumbflank racism and speciesism isn't a human specialty.”
“Yeah, lemme tell stories about the flak I get from other griffons for having a pony as a lairmate.” Gilda's eyes lower to the table as a scowl crosses her beak. “Doesn't matter she's a Bearer, doesn't matter she's the fastest flier in Equestria. She's a pony? I must be slumming it.”
“I'm very sorry to hear that, Gilda.” Trixie's voice is low and sympathetic. “But I don't care if that sort of thing happens to me a thousand times over. Donovan's company is far too dear to me to shun it just for the sake of the foalish prejudices of others.”
You can't help but reach over and stroke her mane at that, giving her a gentle smile. The others at the table are smiling as well. “You, mare, have got the right idea,” Dash declares.
“I couldn't agree more.” Fluttershy is practically beaming. “It's wonderful that you feel that way, Trixie.”
“Heh. Yeah. You know what?” Gilda raises her head again. “You're right, Trix. A thousand freakin' percent right. What'm I doing, letting them tell me I can't be happy? Who the heck are they, and why am I giving them that power? Stuff those lame-o neigh-sayers. They can go along with their beaks up their butts all they want; I got everything I need right here.” She pulls Dash closer to her, getting a surprised laugh out of the pegasus. “Whoa, G!” she exclaims. “I thought you didn't go for public displays of affection.”
“Stuff that, too.” The griffon musses the pony's rainbow mane, getting more laughs from her. You can't help but smile- it looks like this get-together has really had a good effect on Gilda. “I mean, especially here,” she continues, gesturing towards you and the others at the table. “These guys? They understand. I know they're not going to give you and me noise, Dashie, because they 'get' us.” Her beak turns up in a wide grin. “And seriously, that is an awesome thing.”
“You know we can't be the only ones,” Antonio pipes up. “I mean, seriously. I know Ponyville's a small town, but we've got a lot of different people here. And you guys are living in Cali, right?” He looks up at you, and you nod. “Yeah, if there's no other cross-species couples in California of all places, I'll eat Angel Bunny's alfalfa pellets for a week.”
Fluttershy giggles at that. “You know, man, I have no idea how it is you and that rabbit get along so well,” Dash says. “I didn't think he'd like anyone.”
“Eh. It was rough at first, but we came to an understanding. He realized I wasn't going to go away no matter how many droppings he left in my shoes, and I realized he was just trying to protect 'Shy. Wouldn't say we're buddies, but we don't get on each others' backs anymore. It's a good arrangement.”
“How did you and Fluttershy meet, anyway?” Trixie asks.
“Animal adoption event. I was a volunteer for a rescue group out of Houston, and 'Shy here is a spokesmare for the ASPCA. She dropped by to promote a major event we were running, and a pregnant cat we had up for adoption started giving birth right there. She and I both ended up helping the cat through it. We ended up with five kittens and the start of a relationship.”
“You should have seen him with the kittens,” Fluttershy says. “Antonio can't resist baby animals. He just dissolves into goo-goo speak.” She lowers her voice and attempts to mimic her boyfriend's accent. “ 'There you go, little fuzzball, go to Mama and she'll clean you right up.' ”
“Great, there goes my man cred.” Antonio throws his hands up in mock exasperation as everyone else laughs. “Naaaah, not really. Real men care. I'm not afraid to show it.”
“And he wonders why I adore him.” The pegasus leans over and nuzzles his cheek, getting an affectionate kiss in return. “But what he was saying before is right. There's no way we're the only three couples around who aren't same-species. And if we go around hiding how it is we live, we'll be denying ourselves a chance to meet others like us, to give them support and get it in return. I mean... imagine if Gilda and Twilight hadn't talked to Donovan and Trixie- we might never have known about each other! This conversation would never have happened!”
Gilda nods and smiles. “You're talkin' a lot of truth there, Flutters. It's not gonna be easy, but hey- it's totally worth it.” She grins. “Besides, any chance to toss sand in the eyes of those neigh-sayers is a prize in itself, huh?”
Eventually all of the food is gone- including two helpings of chocolate mousse for Dash; where does she put all that food?- and the lunch triple-date comes to a close; Antonio and Fluttershy have to head out to help with some physical therapy for animals hurt in a freak Everfree-born thunderstorm that crossed Whitetail Woods two weeks ago. Gilda and Dash are heading towards the door when the pegasus stops. “Hey, G?” she says, glancing back at you and Trixie. “Why don't you go ahead; I'll be right out. Wanna talk to these guys a bit.”
“Sure thing.” The griffon heads for the exit, and the Bearer of the Element of Loyalty turns towards you and your marefriend with the biggest smile on her face. “Guys, seriously... thank you,” she says. “This get-together was an awesome idea. Gilda's been upset for, like, forever about how other griffons have been acting towards her for being with me. I can't tell you how much I've wanted to break her out of it, but... seriously, me and words are not the best of pals, y'know? I never was very good at asking my friends for help, either. My solution would've been to buck each and every one of those ignorant griffons right in their stupid beaks, but that wouldn't really have solved anything.” She grins. “But I guess now she really understands that she and I aren't the only ones around, that we've got friends who understand and have our backs. It really means a lot to her, I can tell, and I'll never be able to thank you guys enough for making this happen.”
“Dash, it was the least I could do after what happened the first time I visited here,” Trixie replies.
The pegasus walks up to her and puts a hoof on her shoulder. “Trix, please do me a favor. Never, ever say that again.” Dash's rose-colored eyes look directly into Trixie's magenta ones. “That Trixie isn't this Trixie. This Trixie is a mare I'm glad I can call a friend.”
The unicorn breaks out into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Dash.”
Dash nods before glancing over at you. “Oh, and also... don't forget how lucky you are that you found a guy like this one,” she continues, giving you a wink.
“Every minute I'm with him, I understand just how fortunate I truly am.” Trixie leans against you lightly, and you gently rub her ear.
“Good.” A wide grin crosses Dash's face. “Donovan, man... if I ever even think that you're starting to feel down about your species again, I'm gonna come kick your rump, because you're a perfect example of how cool humans can be.”
“And if she's not available, I can deliver quite the impact to that area myself!” Trixie's horn flares as she gives you a serious look.
“Okay, okay!” You laugh, holding up your hands. “No more species-based self-recrimination, I promise.”
“That better mean you're not gonna think that humans are basically bad.” Dash prods your leg with a hoof.
“It does.” Trixie giggles. “Don't worry, Rainbow. I'll be sure to keep him in line.”
“Good!” She gives a satisfied nod before grinning again. “You two are a great couple. I hope you realize that.”
Your arm goes around Trixie's neck, and you gently pull her close against you. “I know I do.”
-M-
“Popcorn! Gitchyer popcorn here!” You call out in your best ballpark-vendor's voice. Trixie giggles as she raises a hoof. “Over here! Popcorn!” she replies.
You raise the bowl you'd prepared for her, and she levitates it out of your hand. “Tulip flakes and movie-theater butter? Mmm, you know how to treat a mare.” She winks.
“I pull out all the stops for you.” You give her a cheesy grin as you sit down next to her on the sofa. “What's on the movie queue tonight?”
“Something I've been meaning to watch for a while. It's a modernized retelling of a classic pony fable, but with a mixed-species cast. My mother used to tell me this story at bedtime, and I want to see what it's like here.”
“Sounds interesting. Let's start it up, then!” You use the multimedia remote to dim the lights and start the DVR.
The movie that plays out before you starts off fairly slowly as a coming-of-age story, but quickly speeds up into a rollicking adventure across several areas both inside and beyond the borders of the Equestrian nation. To Trixie's amusement, the part of the wise, all-knowing unicorn who'd guided the two young lovers all along the way was being played by a human- as the only magical creature in the entire production. “I can't imagine that Stardust the Insightful was meant to be a sassy young woman in a star-spangled baseball cap,” she chortles. “But, somehow... it works!”
The two young ponies' adventure brought them across no small number of notable characters, including a pair of just-lifemated griffons, a grumpy talking phoenix, a Diamond Dog with a love for dancing, a zebra family with a sick foal, and even a dragon- played by an actual, real dragon, not a CGI stand-in. “That must be Watercrest,” you realize. “I'd read about a dragon who'd gone into showbusiness. He's got a really good singing voice.”
“Oh, there's no doubt of that! He should start a recording career; he's got the range for it.”
You notice something as the movie goes on. Trixie assumed her typical leaning-against-you position at the beginning, but as you've been watching the film, she's done something a little unusual- she's maneuvered herself into a sort of human-like sitting position, with her hindlegs tucked up and the popcorn bowl on the couch just past them, and her head gently resting against your shoulder. You put your arm around her to hold her close and give her support, and she gives you a thankful smile in return, snuggling up against you. You can't help but note that it really feels nice to have her close this way.
You're so engrossed in the movie and being close to Trixie that it takes you a little while to notice something else- her forehoof gently rubbing against your leg. Not in a usual, friendly-gesture sort of way, either... the toe of her hoof is trailing circles along your thigh, alternating with stroking back and forth with the sole. Does she know what that's doing to you?
Something inside you wants to find out. The hand you've had on her shoulder begins to move lower, fingertips tracing over her side, feeling the beat of her heart through her barrel; it's speeding up even now. So is yours, for that matter, and there's no doubt that Trixie- with one of her sensitive ears pressed up right against you- can tell.
You feel torn. Trixie is giving you what seems to be some pretty strong signals here, but there's also the fact that she's a pony, and you don't know enough about their ways of courtship to be sure- nor is it likely she knows a whole lot about how humans go about it. You even worry for a moment that she might be going into heat, before you remember that she gets counter-cyclical medications delivered by mail-order. You're concerned- well, “irrationally afraid” is more like it- that you might misjudge her intentions and embarrass yourself and her. Not that you think she'd run off or something if that happened, but....
Her hoof is lightly rubbing against your inner thigh, now, in slow circles, and you're suddenly having a really hard time justifying your hesitation. Apparently your hand has not been sharing your reservations, because it's now gently pressed against Trixie's flank, fingertips lightly kneading the soft coat that covers her hide. In fact, so far as you can tell from this angle, you're probably stroking her cutie mark.
It may not have been intentional, but it's certainly having an effect on her. Her breathing is unsteady, and she's giving off something between a twitch and a shiver seemingly every time your fingers move. She's also leaning in against you even more than earlier, her entire side pressed against yours.
You can't take the torture anymore. Trixie is giving you nearly every indication you can think of for desiring intimacy; you need to know if that's what she really wants. You slowly turn your head, giving up the thin pretense you were maintaining of watching the movie, and instead look towards her.
She's just finished turning her head to look at you. Her eyes are dilated, her ears pointed right at you, her lip quivering, her face visibly flushed even through her coat. She opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, though nothing but her quickened breath comes out.
Instinct takes the reins, different species be damned. You let your free hand move to the back of Trixie's neck, gently pulling her towards you, and she melts into your embrace as you lock your lips against hers. Not one of the gentle, friendly kisses you've shared since you and she decided to become a couple, but a deep, tender one; your tongue dances with hers, and you're gifted with the altogether new flavor of tulip flakes along with popcorn butter. You both have to gasp for breath after you break the kiss. “Donovan....” she murmurs.
“Trixie, are you... is this....” Your nervous stammering isn't being helped by blood fleeing your brain to head for other, more southward regions.
Her horn flares, and you see the remote levitate off of the coffee table; after a moment, the DVR pauses, and the television shuts off. “I think... there's something else I'd like to see right now,” she whispers into your ear.
Well, there's the definitive answer you were waiting for. You leave both mostly-finished bowls of popcorn on the table, then bodily pick up Trixie in your arms as you stand and carry her upside-down towards the bedroom. She laughs softly, playfully kicking her legs up. “I can walk! Honest! You've seen me do it!”
“Maybe, but if you're walking then I can't do this.” Carefully, you bring her closer to your face and plant a gentle line of kisses along her barrel, from neck to belly. Her playful squirming turns into a gentle shiver. “Oooohh-kayyyy, I do see the benefit in this mode of travel,” she giggles.
You're able to carry her into the bedroom without difficulties- she's svelte for a unicorn; you've dropped a bit of weight yourself since you started appearing on-stage with her, thanks to the rigors of performing- and lower her onto your bed, where she reclines for a moment, gazing up at you. “Dear sir, you are entirely overdressed for this occasion,” she teases you.
You start to tug your shirt free, but she raises a hoof. “No, let me,” she says, dropping her playful tone to something much more sultry. She licks her lips as her horn begins to glow dimly; you feel her magic take hold of your shirt, and slowly drag it upwards. You raise your arms so that she can pull it off of you. “You know,” she says quietly, “after the Discovery, when I first saw pictures of humans, my first thought was 'what's with all of them always wearing clothes?'. Then the educational pamphlets came out, and the diagrams pretty much explained it.” She chuckles. “But I never thought the chance to take the clothing off of one would feel so... alluring.”
“Honestly, you ponies sometimes seem a little odd when it comes to clothes.” You feel her working at your belt buckle. “You can walk around stark naked, or as dressed-up as any human... but the act of changing between the two is a private thing?”
“I suppose it must seem strange from a human perspective. It dates back to well before the rise of the Princesses, when ponies often had to carry our possessions with us and spend days traveling. To remove or put on all sorts of clothing, protective gear, saddlebags, so on... it was no easy task for any non-unicorn, and even for us it was time-consuming and required concentration. That feeling of vulnerability led to us only feeling comfortable doing so when those we could trust deeply were near.” She smiles. “Lift one of your legs for me, my dear.”
You do so, and she's quick to untie your shoe and remove it and your sock. “And so that led to it being a show of intimacy... like being nude with someone is for us?” you ask, as you lift your other leg for her to repeat the process.
“Essentially, yes. Even more so when somepony we care for lets us do that for them.” She smiles, letting her eyes wander over your body for a moment as she slowly- much more slowly than necessary- draws your jeans down. You step out of them, now clad only in your underwear, which is not doing much of a job of hiding your state of arousal. “That's another thing I found strange about you humans,” Trixie says, seemingly spellbound by the sight. “The men, anyway.”
“What?”
“No sheath.” It looks like she almost has to force herself to look away from your groin. “Just... out there for all the world to see. You'd see stallions wearing pants everywhere if they had to put up with that, I'd wager.” She smiles, beckoning you towards her with a hoof. “Join me, if you would. This last task I would prefer to finish in a more personal manner.”
You lie down on your back next to her, and she wastes no time in hooking a fetlock underneath the waistband of your underwear and pulling downwards. In only a few seconds, she's exposed you to the cool air of the room- as well as her curious gaze- and you can't help but shiver; there you are, completely naked before Trixie. She uses her magic to throw your last garment over towards the hamper without ever breaking her gaze from your manhood. “It's interesting,” she says quietly, before flaring her nostrils. “And... and your scent is... doing things to me,” she continues, blushing fiercely as her tail flags a little behind her.
You're honestly surprised. “It is?”
“You humans pump out pheromones like it's going out of style, my dear Donovan. Especially when aroused. With your more limited sense of smell, it's probably a necessity... but to compatible species with better noses, it's almost overwhelming.”
You chuckle. “Sorry.”
“No no no. I don't mean that in a bad way, Donovan, believe me.” She smiles at you earnestly, scooting up along the bed to lie next to you. Her hoof brushes against your length, and you can't help but shiver. “I don't mean 'overpowering'... I mean 'irresistible'.” She nuzzles your stomach, breathing in your scent again, and her tail twitches. “Now that's not to say that all a human has to do is strip down to land himself a mare, but when that mare is already interested... well.” She slides down along your stomach and nestles her muzzle in the thatch of hair above your length, taking a deep breath. “It certainly adds to the arousal.”
Some part of your brain that somehow hasn't drowned in hormones yet is shouting something, and by some miracle it actually prompts you to stop her with a gentle hand on her neck. “Hang on a moment, Trixie,” you say quietly. “I just... need to ask something before we go on.”
She gazes at you with a smile. “Of course. But... can it be a quick question?” She gives a little shiver that quickens your pulse even more.
“What... brought this on? I'm just wondering... did you plan it?”
She shakes her head slightly. “No. I honestly just intended to watch a movie with you. But... being there, so close to you, I... I started feeling like maybe it was time to... to go further with our relationship.” She blushes just a little. “I was so busy trying to rationalize it to myself that it took me five minutes to realize I was unconsciously rubbing your leg with my hoof.” She fixes those beautiful eyes onto yours. “And... are you sure you're all right with this, Donovan? Can... can you accept this pony as a lover as well as a friend?”
You don't answer with words. Instead, you gently press your hand on her rump, just above the base of her tail; you hear her draw in a sharp breath at the contact, and her tail flags again, more forcefully than before. She's actually trembling beneath your fingers, every touch making her twitch. It's surprising, because you essentially have no real idea what you're doing; you know almost nothing beyond the basics of pony anatomy, with no knowledge of what they do for things like foreplay.
But you can learn. And right now, you want- you ache - to make this mare as happy as you possibly can. So, with a slow and deliberate movement, you slide your hand beneath the blue-white hairs of her tail, which she immediately lifts for you, letting you feel the warmth of her body underneath- and your palm rubs lightly against soft skin unprotected by fur, tinged with wetness and seeming almost hot to your touch. Trixie shivers again and lets out a quiet sound like a combination of gasp and moan. “Can I...?” you ask her, your throat feeling tight.
Once more she looks into your eyes, and a loving smile crosses her lips. “You... are welcome to all of me, Donovan.”
Well, if there was some lonely molecule in your body that still wasn't sure whether or not to proceed, that had to convince it. Slowly, your index finger traces a few gentle circles around the edges of her marehood, picking up the wetness of her arousal- and spreading her scent into the room, tickling your nostrils with something that smells partly equine, partly like a grassy field, and partly like... paprika? Ponies never cease to amaze you.
You gaze deeply into her eyes as you slip your slickened finger into her. Her eyes half-close and a soft moan escapes her lips as the full length of your digit sinks into her; her entire body is quivering, and her tail twitches slightly with every movement of your finger inside her. “Donovan,” she half-whispers, her breath warm and quick on your skin. “It's... been so long since I've been touched like this....”
Your free hand goes to stroke her mane, and she leans into your gentle caresses. “Are you enjoying it?” you ask her.
“Immensely .” She gently places a hoof on your stomach. “I would attend to you as well,” she tells you with a smile, breaking her gaze away from your eyes to look back down at your groin. Your manhood is at full attention, throbbing in time with your heartbeat, and Trixie hardly hesitates for a moment before leaning over to nuzzle it gently. The feeling of her soft coat and warm breath against your sensitive flesh makes you shiver, and you involuntarily let out a soft moan. Seemingly emboldened by your response, Trixie gently lays her forelegs across your body, pulls herself up a little more, and then- to your intense surprise- drags her tongue along the entirety of your length. Your surprised gasp brings a pleased smile to her lips. “Do you like that?” she murmurs.
Again, you decide actions are better than words; you gently slip your free hand under Trixie's belly and lift. After a moment, she understands your intent, and helps you to move her rear until she's astride you in the classic sixty-nine position. Her tail is raised high, giving you full view of her sex; it looks much more like a woman's than a horse's, though her bared skin there is the same color as her coat. Its edges seem to grasp at your fingertips hungrily, and you slide them in and out a few times, drawing out a soft groan from your lover.
You're so intent on what you're doing that you almost don't notice as she leans back a little and arches her neck. You definitely do notice, though, when her mouth slides down onto your shaft.
You knew that ponies have very dexterous mouths- with two-thirds of the species unable to manipulate things to any fine degree otherwise, it would be a necessity- but you'd never really thought about how that might translate to something like performing oral sex. Turns out it makes them amazing at it. Trixie's tongue, lips, even teeth work together as she bobs her head up and down slowly, making a little humming sound in her throat as she does.
Well, you simply can't let this go without response. You feel as much as hear her make a quiet sound of disappointment as you draw your fingers out of her- but that sound stops when you gently pull downwards on her haunches to bring her closer to you, and press your mouth against the slickened opening of her marehood. She pauses in her movements and lets out a muffled squeal as your tongue delves into her; her taste is difficult to describe- very different from a human woman's, but not at all unpleasant, and you're quite eager to lap as much of it up as you can as you lick at her inner reaches. She rocks back and forth, gently pressing herself against you as you pleasure her, and moaning deeply against your flesh as she returns the favor with gusto.
It's not nearly as long as you'd like before your body begins to tell you that climax is approaching- it's been a while for you, not to mention the sheer eroticism of the moment and Trixie's skill at pleasing you. With an act of will, you pull your mouth away from her. “Trixie....” you pant.
She immediately stops moving her head, holding you completely in her mouth for a moment, lightly working her tongue over your length before she slowly and reluctantly pulls away, finally releasing you from her mouth with a soft pop . “Close?” she asks.
“Y... yeah. How did you...?”
“I'm... really not sure how I knew. I just... did.” Slowly, on trembling legs, she moves herself around to lie against you face-to-face; her eyes look deeply into yours as she wraps her forelegs around your chest. “Goddesses, Donovan... I don't think I could ask for a better lover than you,” she murmurs. “Why did we wait so long to do this?”
“I don't know.” You stroke her chin gently. “But you're worth waiting for.”
She leans forward to give you a tender kiss; both of you moan into the other's lips as she rubs her slickened sex against yours. “As are you,” she tells you once she breaks the kiss. “And now... it is time for us to consummate our partnership in the truest sense of the word.”
With that, she raises her hindquarters up and edges backwards until she brushes up against your tip, then aligns herself- and with one smooth motion, impales herself on your length to the base.
Trixie lets out something akin to a drawn-out squeak combined with a moan, and you groan right along with her. She's so warm inside, tight yet yielding like a velvet glove, and wet enough to where she's literally dripping on you moments after penetration. You feel her shiver against you as you hold her tightly against you, giving yourself and her a little time to get used to the sensations. “Donovan,” she whispers. “This... this just feels... so right ....” She carefully nestles her muzzle under your chin for a moment, careful not to poke you with her horn, and places a soft kiss against your throat. “I love you so much, Donovan.”
“I love you too.” You place one hand on the back of her neck, stroking it gently- and use your other hand to hold her rump in place as you begin to slowly take her from beneath, raising your hips to meet her with slow, smooth motions. “Oh sweet Goddesses...! ” she groans, closing her eyes tightly and bracing herself against you as she begins to move with you. “Ohhhhh, Donovan, please tell me this feels as good to you!”
“Oh, God, believe me, it does....” You're not in the least bit lying. Her warmth and weight against your body, the softness of her coat against your skin, are wonderfully comforting, and the feel of her depths clutching at your length each time it enters her is exquisite. It's a wonder you haven't hit your climax yet, and only an effort of will is keeping it from approaching- you want to bring Trixie to hers first.
It doesn't take long. She's practically bouncing herself against you now, her hindquarters slapping against your hips, her fetlocks hooked against your shoulders for leverage and soft whimpers of pleasure coming from her throat. You feel her begin to speed up even more, gasping out loud and gazing at you with wide eyes, as her body begins to tremble; after a moment, her inner muscles squeeze against you, and she presses herself against you, letting out a soft whine. You feel a new wave of wetness drip onto your groin. “Good?” you ask her with a grin, gently rubbing one of her ears.
“...'good'?” She looks at you with a half-dazed, dreamy expression. “Donovan, you don't know how long it's been since that's happened at all, let alone so... so oh-my-Celestia, tie-me-down-so-I-don't-float-off wonderful .” She leans down to plant another deep kiss on your lips, which you return eagerly. “And now, my sweet human,” she says, with a sly grin spreading across her face, “...it's your turn.”
And before you can even speak, she's off to the races, taking you as hard and fast as she can, and it's all you can do to hold on for the ride. Every movement she makes seems calculated to bring you to your peak, and all the willpower in the world isn't going to help you hold out for too much longer. “...getting close?” she pants into your ear, not letting up for a moment.
“Y- yeah....”
“Good. ” Her grip on your shoulders tightens just a little. “I want that... I want to feel it within me. Make me yours, Donovan...!”
The pleading sound in her voice and loving gaze she fixes on you obliterate the last of your willpower. You bring one of your hands down on her rump to hold her in place, pressing yourself against her firmly, and let out a deep groan as your climax strikes; you can feel her milking you for your seed, and she lets out soft moans inbetween panting for breath as she closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head on your chest.
Finally, your orgasm subsides, leaving you and your lover catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. “Mmmmmm....” Trixie murmurs into your ear. “That... was exquisite ....”
You gently kiss her neck. “I would've liked to last a little longer for you.”
“Shh.” She covers your mouth with a hoof. “It's been a while for both of us. That sort of thing happens.” Her hoof lifts up after a moment to let her plant a light kiss on your lips. “Besides,” she continues with a sly smile, “we'll have other times.”
You grin, lightly squeezing her flank and getting a giggle out of her. “Mmm. 'Another time' would be right now if I wasn't so tired,” you tell her.
As if to mark her agreement, a wide yawn escapes her muzzle. “...goodness!” she chuckles. “Agreed. Perhaps it is time for bed for all good ponies and humans, hm?”
“Definitely time for bed.” You give her one more kiss before letting her climb off of you. “...my bed. Where I'd like you to spend every night from now on.”
She lets out a cute sound of joy. “I've... wanted that for a while,” she admits, hopping off the bed for a moment so that you can pull the blanket down, then quickly sliding under it with you. “I sleep so much better in your arms.”
“I would've let you if you asked.”
“I was worried that you'd think I was being too forward.” She chuckles. “I suppose that's not a concern now, though!”
You turn off the light and snuggle up with her under the covers; she drapes one foreleg over your chest and one hindleg over your waist, pressing the length of her body against yours and letting out a soft murmur of contentment. “Trixie,” you tell her, “from here on out... there's no such thing as 'too forward' between us. Anything you want or need, just tell me. I'll always listen.”
You can't see her smile, but you know she's doing it, somehow. “I will if you will.”
“Deal.” You share one more soft kiss in the darkness. “I love you, Trixie.”
“I love you too, Donovan.” She rests her head on your chest. “And I don't expect I'll ever tire of telling you that.”
And there you lay, feeling sleep creeping upon you, lying in your bed with this utterly wonderful, beautiful mare in your arms- your friend, your partner, your lover. You'll never know how you got so lucky as to end up with her in your life, and you find yourself thinking back to the day you met her on that lonely path by the river in Equestria. You spend a moment trying to imagine what your life would be like if you'd never followed the sound of her sobs, if you'd simply walked on by... but after a moment, you realize that you don't even want to think about it. Whatever could have happened would have a very, very hard time comparing to the life you're leading now.
As you finally succumb to sleep, one last thought crosses your mind.
I have Trixie. How could I not be okay with that?
“Dude. Wow, seriously? That's... I mean, wow, I've never seen anything LIKE that.”
Vinyl gives Gilda a nod of agreement. “Jeez, brony, color me entirely impressed. And maybe a little jealous!”
You can't help but chuckle. “I can't even begin to say how thrilled I am with how well it came out. I can't thank you enough for all your help, Rarity.”
The unicorn gives you a broad smile. “I should thank you! Your ideas were a unique challenge, and I'm beyond thrilled that I could help you bring them into being. Jewel Glitter and Forgehoof loved the idea, and I wouldn't at all be surprised to see this kind of thing become a trend!”
“Well, if anyone asks where it came from, you can bet I'll be dropping your name and theirs.” You give the fashionista a wink, before leaning back in your chair and putting the little box back in your jacket pocket.
Gilda takes note of your expression. “Nervous?”
“Like you wouldn't believe.”
“I can understand that, dude. But... honestly? This whole thing you're setting up... it is awesome . I don't usually even go for this sort of thing, but I can't wait to see it happen!”
“Thanks, G.” You give the griffon a smile. “But still....”
“ 'But still' nothin' , brony.” Vinyl raises her shades to look into your eyes. “Believe me when I tell you this- you've got nothing to worry about. Everything's gonna go just fine.”
“I'm in full agreement with Ms. Scratch, Donovan.” Rarity gives you a reassuring smile. “Such an exquisitely elegant plan could only see success! I daresay just knowing of it may have spoiled me- this is a high bar to clear!”
You chuckle. “Well, I just... I want it to be special.”
“Dude... trust me.” Gilda puts a claw on your shoulder. “It's gonna be.”
(-)
It's 8:30PM, and you're just wrapping up your performance at the Gala. The reception you've gotten was interesting- just as Twilight had warned, a lot of the upper-crust nobles had done their best to ignore your show, as well as the pre-performance crowd-mingling you've done through the evening. Not all of them, though; one in particular, Fancy Pants- a good friend of Rarity's- has proven to be very personable, and you notice that several of the other nobles seem to fall in line with his opinions as soon as he gives them.
As far as the rest of the crowd goes, though- they love it. Ever since the G3 dropped its strict “invitation only” requirements and allowed a number of tickets to be had by the public at large via contests and the like, attendance had grown... and the general “feel” of the event had gone from a hoity-toity bore- no offense to Hoity Toity, who's actually a decent pony himself once one gets past his mannerisms- to a more populist, energetic affair. And you like to think that you and Trixie have helped with that, as the attendees have told you and her quite a few times how much they enjoyed the tricks you performed in the crowd- and judging by the genuinely pleased looks all three Princesses have as they watch you finish up the act, you've had the effect they were hoping for.
“Thank you so much, Canterlot!” Trixie calls out; you've eschewed your typical microphone/speaker setup, since the stage has a magical enchantment that projects the voices of everyone on it. “This has been a wonderful experience! Good night to you all!”
You swallow an unexpected lump in your throat. It's now or never. “Trixie, wait,” you say.
She turns, her surprise plain on her face. “Donovan?”
“There's one more trick for the act.” You beckon her over to stand in front of you, so that both of you are easily visible to the audience. “This particular trick is one I've been working on for a while now. A simple one, but the results ought to be worth it.”
You reach behind her ear and make something “appear”- a small velvet box, which you bring around to show her. You actually hear her breath catch in her throat as her eyes lock on to it. “D- Donovan?” she stammers. “What...?”
You drop to a knee in front of her, holding the box up to her as you open it. Inside is what you spent three months working to design and have made- a gleaming silver ring, set with an amethyst carved perfectly into the shape of her cutie mark. Trixie's jaw drops as her eyes go as wide as you've ever seen them. “This is your part of the trick,” you tell her. “Where you transform me into the happiest man in two worlds with a single word.”
It's a wonder your heart hasn't burst out of your chest with how hard it's pounding, but you manage to speak the words you've been practicing by yourself in front of a mirror for weeks on end.
“Trixie... will you marry me?”
For a few seconds that seem to last an eternity, she's utterly speechless- and the hall has gone almost completely silent in anticipation, just like you have. Then the broadest smile crosses her lips, and tears begin to fall from her eyes as she gazes at you. “How could I possibly say anything but 'yes'?!” she declares.
You take the ring out of the box and slip it onto her horn; it fits perfectly. As you stand, she remains still for just a moment, trembling, sniffling, fighting back tears, and then-
poomf
-she's in your arms with a flash of blue-white light, hugging you tightly, and you swing her around a couple of times. “Trixie!” you exclaim. “Did you just teleport?!”
She blinks in shock. “Did I?” she asks. “I... I wasn't even trying, I just wanted to hold you....” She shakes her head after a moment. “I can think about that later,” she decides, brushing her cheek against yours before turning her head to look out at the audience. Only now do you realize that they're applauding- even the haughty nobles who were doing their best to ignore you before are at least giving you polite hoofstomps. Everyone else, though, is grinning and stomping or clapping... including the Princesses, especially Cadence, who's giving you the most approving look you've ever seen from a pony. You know you've done well with a marriage proposal when you impress an alicorn Princess of Love.
As you and Trixie wave to the audience in thanks, she leans her head near yours to whisper in your ear. “Beatrix Marie Trellis... I think that has a nice ring to it. How about you?”
You can't help but chuckle, even as you hug her tighter against you. “I'm okay with that.”
-END-
Of The Season (Bonus Chapter)
“Darlings! I'm so very glad you could make it! Come in, please- it's bitter cold out there!”
You gesture for Trixie to go in ahead of you, and she gives you a grateful smile before doing so; you quickly follow her in, with the below-freezing wind giving you a not-so-gentle push. “Brrrr,” Rarity shivers. “Earth's weather is just as interesting as Equestria's, I've learned.” She smiles. “So how are the two of you? It's been so long!”
“It really has,” Trixie agrees. “It's great to see you again, Rarity. We're doing well, thanks. How are things with you?”
“Oh, splendid! But let's save the catching-up for when everyone's together, shall we? It shan't be long now. In the meantime, feel free to hang up your coats and warm up by the fire!” The unicorn gives you another smile before trotting off; you shuck your coat and hang it from the rack, while Trixie does the same with her parka. “I'm glad you warned me about the weather up here,” she says to you. “Feels like a Trottingham winter out there.”
“You aren't kidding.” You can already see others seated on the wide couch and love seats positioned in a semicircle around the large fireplace. “Wow, this place is something else,” you comment, looking around at the wide-open den.
“Indeed! A beautiful place. Come, let's sit by the fire... my legs feel like ice cubes!”
You certainly don't need to be argued into it, heading towards the couch. Already seated on it are Fluttershy, Antonio, Applejack and Big Macintosh. You note how strange it is to see Big Mac without his customary yoke. “Oh, hey, good afternoon t' you two!” Applejack exclaims, giving you both a wave. “C'mon over, plenty'a warmth for everyone.”
You and Trixie take seats with the small group. “It's nice to see all of you again,” Trixie says. “Applejack, we've not seen each other in some time. How's your farm doing?”
“Pretty good!” the farmpony replies. “Just bought another fifteen acres an' hired three extra workers t'help keep up with demand. It's great bein' busy, but when me an' th' family got th' invitation to come on out here fer this combination Hearth's Warmin' Eve and Christmas party, we jumped on it. S'great to take a little break, an' Colorado's a beautiful place.”
“Have you been to Earth much?” you ask her.
“Me? Sure, bunch'a times, though it's usually business-related. It's Mac's first time over, though.”
“And how are you finding Earth, Big Mac?” Trixie asks.
The large stallion seems to take a moment to think. “Ain't a bad place,” he says. “Kinda... hard t' get use to, some ways, though.”
“Oh, I completely understand,” Fluttershy replies. “But there's such wonderful people to be found here, so many lovely things... it's really worth it to open up and experience it all.”
Big Mac nods slowly. “Eeyup.”
“So, hey, AJ,” Antonio puts in, “I saw Applebloom earlier, but did Granny Smith manage to make the trip?”
“Yep! She's takin' a nap in one 'a th' guest rooms upstairs. Long trips like this still tucker her out, even with that newfangled replacement hip she's got. She'll prob'ly be down in an hour or so, I reckon.”
“Awesome. I hope I'm still kicking around as lively as her when I hit her age.” Antonio grins as the two farmponies chuckle and nod in agreement.
You look over at Trixie and find that she's taken on a thoughtful look. “Something on your mind, hon?” you ask.
She blinks. “Hmm? Oh... sorry. I'm wondering when our parents and my brother will get here.”
“Well, our parents are renting a car at the portal station, so they shouldn't be too long... have you heard from Lightflare recently?”
“No....” She frowns slightly. “I've told you how he is about technology, haven't I? He doesn't even like wearing a watch, let alone carrying a phone. He's probably got no way to tell us if he'll make it, let alone when.”
Applejack blinks. “What's this about yer brother, sugarcube? Somethin' wrong?”
“Oh, no, it's... well. He's a Royal Guard stationed all the way out by Horseshoe Bay. He had a problem securing leave, and now there's a huge snowstorm going over Baltimare that's playing havoc with the rails, and that's not going to help him get to the Phillydelphia portal station.” A frown crosses Trixie's face as she looks down at her hooves, and you put your arm over her shoulders. “I haven't seen him in years; I was hoping he'd be able to make it here to see everyone....”
“Aw, sugarcube, I'm sorry t' hear that. I know how important family is- I hope he makes it.”
“Thank you, Applejack.” Your wife gives AJ a smile.
Things go a little quiet for a bit until there's another knock on the door; this time, Antonio gets up to answer it. “Oh, hey, Twi!” you hear him say. “Spike, my man! Get on in here, it's way too cold out for a reptile.”
“Th- thanks, Tony,” Spike says as he rushes inside. “Twilight used a spell on me to let me maintain my own body heat for a while, but still- this is lousy weather for a dragon!”
Twilight giggles. “Hello, Antonio. It's nice to see you again!”
“You too. Couch is right over that way; go ahead and warm up! Hey, Shy, want to help me make up some cocoa?”
“Oh, I'd be delighted to!” The pegasus flitters off of the couch and over towards the kitchen, pausing to give Twilight and Spike a nuzzle each along the way. The unicorn and dragon come up to the couch and make themselves comfortable. “Hello, everyone!” Twilight says cheerfully. “I'm glad you could all make it!”
“Well, Rarity's invitation was so utterly generous, we felt it impossible to refuse!” Trixie answers, giving the other unicorn a hug and Spike a gentle hoofshake. You shake Twilight's hoof and Spike's claw as well. “How's things in Ponyville?” you ask.
The librarian and her assistant give you a brief recap- aside from a second parasprite infestation, this time easily handled by Pinkie, things have been quiet in the small town. Not so much the case in the Crystal Empire, though, where events required the attention of Twilight and the other Bearers a total of three times; thankfully, all three ended peacefully. “I've heard it's really beautiful up there,” you say.
“Oh, it absolutely is,” Twilight replies. “Tourism is still a little restricted while the citizens adapt to being a thousand years out of the loop- but, you know, if you and Trixie would like to see the place, I'm pretty sure Princess Cadence would authorize a magic show.” She grins.
“Hmm... I think we could find room on our schedule for that.” Trixie returns the grin with one of her own, before glancing over at the grandfather clock that sedately ticks away over by the wall. “Hmm... I wonder when....”
knock knock
“I'll get it!” Rarity trots back up to the door and opens it. “Ah, hello there! Come in, please. Oh, Donovan, Trixie- your guests have arrived!” She steps back to allow four figures in out of the cold. “Hey, now, where's those kids of ours?” comes a boisterous voice.
Trixie laughs. “Over here, Father,” she calls out.
The four figures step into the hallway. Your parents, Michael and Debra Trellis, and Trixie's parents, Wand Weaver and Starlight Lulamoon, all grin at you and Trixie. “There they are!” Starlight exclaims in that deep voice of his.
You and Trixie leave the couch to greet the new arrivals. Your mother still hardly looks her age, and you wonder if that'll ever change; your father has a couple of new grey spots in his hair, but otherwise looks pretty good for his age as well. His hug is as bone-crushing as ever, that's for sure. You're careful when Wand rears up for her hug; you know she still has a back problem- but that doesn't stop her from trying to duplicate the strength of your dad's hug. “So how have you two kids been doing?” your father asks once all the hugs have been exchanged.
“We've been doing quite well, Dad.” Trixie smiles. Your parents love it when she refers to them as Mom and Dad, just like hers prefer you call them Father and Mother. It's a really close family you and she have gained. “How about you two? Is Neighbraska treating you well?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Mom says. “We found this beautiful place just a few miles from where Wand and Star live, which means we get a lot of guided tours of the city.”
“Which is an absolute delight!” Wand puts in. “Especially seeing the paintings Mike does afterwards. We have two of them on the walls at home.”
“And Debbie's absolutely livened up our bowling league,” Star adds. “The woman is an ace at the lanes. 286 average!”
You can't help but laugh. “I knew you two would love it there,” you tell your parents. “Hey, where's my manners? Let me introduce all of you to our friends.”
The Apples, Twilight and Spike are delighted to meet your folks, as are Antonio and Fluttershy when they come back into the room with a tray full of hot cocoa and mugs. Trixie leans over towards her parents as hot drinks are being poured. “Mother, Father, have you heard anything from Light recently?” she asks.
“Oh, I'm afraid not, dear,” Wand answers. “The last we heard was that he'd be trying to get to Phillydelphia ahead of the storm- but the weather report we heard on the radio on the way up here said that the pegasi crews had accidentally gotten the storm moving faster than normal and couldn't really slow it down much. It's possible he's gotten caught in it.”
“I hope not,” your mother says. “I'd like to meet my son-in-law. I've heard a lot about him!”
There's another knock on the door, and this time you excuse yourself to go answer it. Outside you find Rainbow Dash, Gilda and Scootaloo. “Oh, hey there!” you said. “Great to see you. Come on in out of the cold.”
They do so, and you shut the door against the frigid winds outside. “Brr!” Gilda says, shaking herself. “Reminds me of growing up in Aerie Mesa. How you humans manage to get along in this kind of weather without even a single feather to keep you warm is something else.”
You chuckle at that. “Hey, Scoots, long time no see,” you say, reaching down to give her a fistbump; she taps her hoof against your knuckles. “Hey, Donovan,” she replies with a grin. “Nice to see you too.”
“We've got cocoa in the den, but it's going fast. Better hurry if you want some!” You smile as the filly- no, she's old enough to be called a young mare now- rushes off to get her share of the cocoa; next to you, Dash laughs. “You found one of her weaknesses, Donovan,” she comments. “That girl can't resist hot cocoa on a cold day.”
“So how's things been with the three of you?” you ask, as you walk with them towards the den.
“Pretty darn sweet, but busy,” Dash says. “I kind of miss the days where I could just lounge on a cloud in Ponyville. In between heading up Bravo Squadron, coordinating with the Blackwings, scheduling appearances and keeping up with merchandising contracts....”
“ 'Blackwings'?” you repeat.
“Oh! Yeah, the news for that is probably just getting out now. We've finally reached an agreement with the Gryphon king for joint exercises and exhibitions with their elite fliers, the Blackwings. I didn't think too much of those guys until I saw them in action... then they totally wowed me. I think it'll be awesome to see what the Wonderbolts can learn from them.”
“Sounds interesting. Think you can score Trixie and I some tickets to a show if you end up performing with them?”
“Pfft. Like you even need to ask.” Gilda grins. You still don't know how she does that with a beak. “You know we'd do that for you.”
You give the griffin a smile. “And how about you, G? How's family life treating you?”
“It's been an adjustment,” she admits. “But... lemme tell ya, Scoots has really surprised me, and not just because of how well she manages our on-the-go lifestyle. She reminds me of me, back when I was a fledgling, only with less bad attitude. It's like I'm gettin' to teach her all the stuff I had to learn the hard way. I kinda like how that feels.”
“Heh, I never figured you for a mother hen, G,” Dash teases. “But Scootaloo adores you. I knew going through with the adoption was an awesome idea.”
You find upon returning to the den that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle have convened with Scootaloo at the cocoa tray and are joyfully catching up with each other while the adults chat; it's rather amazing how much the three girls have to say, considering you know for a fact that they all have cell phones and likely call each other constantly just like any other teenagers. It's getting a little crowded in the room, but you're all close enough friends to where it's not a bothersome thing. “So did Rarity actually tell anyone what this whole thing's about?” Gilda asks. “I mean, I ain't complaining about the invite, and this is a seriously swank place she's got, but I'm really curious about this announcement she wants to share.”
“I shan't keep you all waiting much longer!” Rarity sticks her head out from the hallway. “I'm just hoping for a few stragglers to show up soon. Then dinner and information will be served!”
You and Trixie find yourself standing with Twilight at the far end of the den, a little away from the others. “So Twilight,” you say, “what about your brother? Do you think Shining Armor and Princess Cadence will be able to make it?”
“I'm afraid not,” she answers with a slight frown. “Much as they both wanted to come, there's Hearth's Warming Eve celebrations in the Crystal Empire and it's important that they attend to form a closer bond with its citizens.”
Trixie puts her hoof on Twilight's shoulder. “I'm sorry to hear that! But after all that's happened to the Crystal Empire, I imagine it's for the best. I'm sure your brother will be here in spirit.”
“Thanks, Trixie.” Twilight smiles. “And I hope your brother gets to be here in body.”
“So do I... I haven't seen him in so long.” She looks up at another knock at the door, which Rarity answers- it's her parents, whom she and Sweetie greet enthusiastically. “Still,” Trixie amends, “I should be thankful for everyone who was able to make it.”
You gently rub Trixie's neck. “The day's young yet, sweetheart,” you tell her. “We'll see what happens.”
“Indeed.” She lets out a soft sigh and leans against you. “In the meantime... let's go enjoy ourselves.”
And that's what you do, as Rarity lays out some snacks for everyone and puts on some cheerful holiday music over the sound system. You recognize the Canterlot Quartet's “Snowfall Symphony”. “Is this a live concert recording?” you ask Rarity.
“You've a good ear, darling!” She smiles. “Indeed it is, recorded at the show the Quartet put on at Rockefeller Center two years ago. Truly a splendid performance it was! Octavia was gracious enough to personally sign the cover of my CD afterwards.”
“She's a class act, absolutely.” You're happy to tell Rarity about the time the Quartet performed for one of your acts in Trottingham. Octavia had been a consummate professional, working with you and Trixie every step of the way to coordinate her group's music with the various parts of the act, and everything had gone together perfectly- the act had sold out every last showing. “Ah, I can't say I'm surprised at all,” Rarity replies. “But I didn't know you'd done a show with them! I'll have to remember to find the video on your website later.” She takes a look at the clock. “Hmm... I suppose now is as good a time as any to make my announcement! I'd hoped Pinkie Pie would have made it by now, but I suppose she's running late. Donovan, please have a seat with the others. I'll be back momentarily.”
You do as she asks, returning to Trixie's side as she chats with your parents about Neighbraska. You find it heartwarming to see just how well they get along; your parents absolutely adore Trixie, and she loves them just as much in return. Of course, your own in-laws are very much the same- you hit it off with Wand Weaver and Starlight almost from the moment you met them, partly because of Trixie's renewed relationship with them after her personality change from being with you, and their appreciation for you only deepened when they found out how you'd helped her follow her dreams. “She's always been our wayward filly,” Star had told you once, “and we're both glad you helped bring her back to us.”
After a few moments, the music quiets down. “Everyone!” Rarity calls out as she enters from the hallway. “I'm so very glad you could all make it up here to this lovely place. I'd hoped to make it somewhere I could entertain friends ever since I bought it, but then I became so busy I could never put it to proper use! Tonight I'm glad to have rectified that by giving all my closest friends a chance to get together in celebration of the season.” She pauses, just for dramatic effect. Rarity will never change, you think with an inward chuckle. “And, I do admit, this is a bit of a celebration for myself as well. May I assume that all of you are familiar with Rare Earth?”
You certainly are; Rare Earth, just as the name implies, is Rarity's Earthside fashion business for humans, as well as those ponies and others living on Earth who want to follow human trends in their own ways. It didn't take her long at all to become as big a name in the fashion world here as in Equestria. The others are also apparently acquainted with the name. “Well,” Rarity continues, “it is my great pleasure to announce not only that the Rare Earth fashion line has been chosen to appear in the Spring-Summer fashion show in Milan- one of the biggest and most prestigious fashion shows on Earth- but that yours truly is a special guest correspondent for the Two Worlds of Fashion show!”
Your applause is matched by that of the others. You're not exactly “up” on the fashion world, but the Two Worlds of Fashion television show is huge in the circles Rarity travels. This twin boon of publicity and exposure can only help her business and her prestige. “Congrats, Rare!” Dash exclaims.
“Oh, yes, congratulations, Rarity,” Fluttershy agrees. “You deserve it for all your hard work.”
“Oh, dears, thank you so much.” Rarity blushes. You know it's not an act- as much as she seeks the appreciation of others, she's honestly thankful when she receives it. “I daresay that the new year will find me even more busy than the last- so I chose to bring all of my friends, whose support has made all of this possible, together so that I could express my gratitude to you all, and... just spend time with you, as friends should. I'm truly fortunate to have such good friends in my life.” She gives all of you a broad smile, and you can't help but feel warmed by it; it's a wonderful gesture on her part, a reminder of how she earned the mantle of Bearer of the Element of Generosity.
Everyone goes quiet when a chime rings out from Twilight's horn. “Oops, hang on a second,” she says; her horn glows, and her phone materializes next to her. “Magical ringtone,” she explains as she looks at the telephone's display. “Oh, it's Pinkie! I'll put her on the speaker. Hello, Pinkie?”
“Hey, everyone!” Pinkie's unmistakable, cheery voice comes through loud and clear. “Just taking advantage of a rest stop to let you all know that I'm running a little late. I had to pick up an extra-special surprise! The nice lady inside the GPS box says I should be there in about half an hour.”
“That's okay, Pinkie,” Twilight chuckles. “Just try not to be much longer than that- there's a snowstorm coming and it's probably going to cover the roads pretty quickly.”
“Don't worry, silly filly! I'm a safe driver. See you guys soon!”
There's a soft click as the call disconnects, and the phone returns to wherever Twilight had summoned it from. “She really is a good driver,” the unicorn comments. “I know she'll be okay, so we just have to wait.” She takes a quick look out the near picture window. “Though it looks like the snow got here faster than they forecasted,” she says quietly.
Thick white flakes are already dropping to the ground out beyond the window. “Wow, more crazy Earth weather,” Dash jokes. “I dunno how you humans have put up with this for thousands of years.”
“Mostly we just complain about it,” Antonio replies with a grin.
Rarity smiles. “Well, let us see about dinner now, and I'll keep some warm for our late arrival. Sweetie Belle, would you be so kind as to lend me a hoof? We'll call the rest of you when everything is ready.”
“Sure thing, sis.” The two Belles trot out into the kitchen as everyone else relaxes- except for Dash, who trots out onto the patio with a thoughtful expression on her face. You decide to see if anything's wrong, excuse yourself and head out after her; the cold evening air hits your skin as you go outside, and you reflexively shiver.
You find Dash standing at the far end of the patio, staring at the falling snow. Of course, her being a pegasus, the cold probably doesn't bother her much at all. “Are you okay, Dash?” you ask.
“Yeah. I'm just thinking.”
“Anything you'd like to talk about?”
“Well....” She seems to consider for a moment. “You're a hard-working guy, Donovan, so maybe you can understand this. Part of me loves being busy, getting so much done, making my mark on the worlds. But... another part of me wonders if I'm pushing too hard.” She lets out a soft sigh, her breath forming clouds in the cold air. “Scoots has been, like, totally awesome at dealing with how much we move around, but lately I've started wondering if I'm keeping her from growing up like a regular pony.” She chuckles. “I can only imagine how tough it would've been on her before the Discovery, without cell phones and Internet and video chat to keep up with everyone she cares about.”
“So long as you don't shake a hoof at her and tell her how rough it was back when you were growing up,” you chuckle.
“Ugh! If you ever hear me say that, Donovan, just stick me in a rocking chair and put me on a porch so I can tell foals to stay off my lawn.” Her grin fades after a moment. “But seriously... sometimes I think I need to scale back a bit, give Gilda and Scootaloo more of my time. At least until we figure out some way to get more than twenty-four hours in a day. But I've got a lot of stuff riding on my withers.” She looks up at you. “What do you think? Do you run into that kind of problem with your shows?”
“Thankfully, not very often. Of course, Trixie and I are lucky enough to be able to set a large part of our schedule according to our own desires, so we're not subject to the same pressures you are.” You rest your arms on the railing of the patio. “Do you know what I love the most about snowstorms, Dash?”
“What's that?”
“The quiet. It's not just a lack of sound, but... it's almost like a blanket thrown over your ears, to where the only things you can hear are the snow and your own heartbeat. Have you ever really listened to the snow like that?”
“Huh... no, I haven't.”
“Why don't you give it a try just for a bit? Sometimes it helps clear the mind.”
“You know, at this point I'm willing to try just about anything.” You and she both fall silent for a few moments, and you watch her ears flick back and forth a few times before they become still. You see her expression relax, her wings flicking just a little bit. “...huh,” she murmurs after a moment. “That's... wow. Okay, I see what you mean. It's like....” She pauses a moment, apparently searching for words. “It's like... I can hear the world breathing, or something.”
“I know.” You smile. “Now... tell me what you think you should do about your workload.”
She doesn't even hesitate. “Reduce it. I want to spend more time with Gilda and Scoots.” She pauses for a moment, her face taking on a surprised expression. “...wow, okay, why wasn't I able to get myself to say that before?”
“Thinking too hard?”
Dash laughs. “Hah, that's the first time anyone's ever accused me of that . But... I dunno, maybe you're right. I should talk to G about it... no, scratch that. I should talk to G and Scoots. She's a part of the family and she deserves a say.” She grins at the smile you give her. “This 'maturity' thing is more complicated than I thought! I'm glad I've got good friends to help me out. Thanks, Donovan.”
“Anytime.” You tap your knuckles against her raised hoof, then look back out at the snow, as does she. After a moment, she speaks again. “Hey, D, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Not at all, go right ahead.”
“You and Trixie... have you guys ever thought of adopting?”
The question pretty much brings your thoughts to a halt. “Um... we discussed it a couple of times. Never really seriously. We were worried about the same thing you were- not having enough time to dedicate to a child.”
“Maybe it's outta line for me to say this, but... really, you two oughta reconsider that. If a couple of goofoffs like Gilda and me can do okay by Scootaloo, then you and Trixie? You could make some lucky kid really happy.”
“It's not out of line, it's just... we....” You're struggling for words to express your innermost feelings; after a fruitless moment, Dash puts her hoof on your arm. “Hey,” she says. “Listen to the snow.”
You do so, letting the gentle silence surround you, as your pegasus friend waits patiently. You can feel your thoughts settling down, your mind quieting, and after a long moment you open your mouth and let it speak the real truth. “I'm terrified I'd screw up somehow and do more harm than good.”
Dash shakes her head and fixes her rose-colored eyes on you. “No way , Donovan. You? Maybe you'd make mistakes, sure... we all do. But you and Trixie... you're a team. An awesome team at that. I don't believe for a second that either of you could hurt a kid like that, and any mistakes you did make... well, you'd fix them. Because that's the sort of people you and Trixie are, Donovan.”
“You're a wise mare, Rainbow Dash.” Trixie follows her words out onto the patio. “Whereas sometimes I question my husband's wisdom, such as him standing out here in the cold like he's a pegasus himself.” She levitates your coat over to you, draping it over your shoulders. “Silly man,” she teases you with a smile. “I came out to tell you both that dinner is ready... but then I overheard your conversation. Are you truly afraid that you'd somehow 'mess up' raising a child?” You don't reply, but your sheepish half-smile and glance away is answer enough for her. “Well. We shall have a good, long discussion about that later, Donovan, my dear. In the meantime... I'll simply tell you that you are completely wrong.” She rears up to place a soft kiss on your lips, then returns to all fours. “Come, let's head back inside. The others are waiting.”
The three of you head back in, finding seats waiting for you at the table; Rarity and Sweetie are setting out various plates. The elder Belle sister glances up at your entrance. “Is everything all right, dears?” she asks, concern obvious on her face.
“Sure is,” Dash replies with a nonchalant smile, seating herself next to Scootaloo and Gilda. “Great, dinner is served! I'm famished .”
It's a seriously impressive layout of food, and the fact that Rarity is helping set it out- when she could easily have afforded catering- is not at all lost on you. Naturally, all of the dishes are vegetarian... except for what's on the large serving dish that Rarity sets in front of Gilda. The look of surprise on the griffon's face is almost comical. “Steamed Uplands salmon?” she gasps.
“My dear, you didn't think I would invite an obligate carnivore to dinner and expect her to eat plants , now did you?” Rarity gives a teasing grin.
“No, no, it's not just that... this is my favorite dish! I haven't had this since I was a fledgling! It's even prepared the same way Mom used to! How... how'd you know?”
“A lady never reveals her secrets. Fortunately for you, Rainbow Dash is no lady.” Dash snickers and nods in agreement. “She told me your favorite dish when I invited the three of you over. It was little trouble ordering it just to your liking.”
“Wow. I... I really appreciate this, Rares. Thanks a lot.” Gilda's heartfelt smile is returned in equal measure by the unicorn. “You're entirely welcome, Gilda,” Rarity replies. “Now, everyone... by all means, enjoy!”
Everyone digs in; the food is absolutely exquisite, and you know that Rarity spared no expense on it. Still, even as you eat you find your eyes drifting to the two empty chairs at the banquet table, and you see Trixie glancing at them from time to time as well. You reach over and pat her forehoof, getting a slight thankful smile from her in return. “I'm not giving up hope yet,” you tell her quietly. “I know if your brother can at all make it, he will.”
“I know.” She presses your hand to her cheek. “I just... I'd like it if he finally got to meet you and your parents and all our friends here. He missed the wedding, he's missed all of our performances, all because of his duties... can't he just this once get the chance to join us?”
You open your mouth to respond.
knock knock knock
The entire table goes quiet; the timing is just too spot-on. Rarity slowly leaves her seat. “I- I'll get it,” she says quietly, trotting up to the door; the table is positioned perfectly so that everyone at the table can see the front door easily, and everyone is watching the fashionista approach the door almost as if she were a character in a suspense movie. She opens the door- to reveal a snow-covered pink pony with a wide grin on her face. “Oh, Pinkie!” Rarity exclaims. “Thank goodness. I was starting to worry you'd be caught in the snowstorm!”
“Sorry about that! Like I said, I needed to pick up an extra-special surprise. Or, well, more like an extra-special delivery!” Pinkie glances behind herself for a moment. “A delivery for the Trellis-Lulamoon family, straight from Horseshoe Bay, it's-”
“Lightflare! ” You can't tell if Trixie teleported out of her chair or just jumped, but by the time you realize she's moved, she's already most of the way to the door. “Hey, how'd you know?” Pinkie asked. “...oh, I guess you can see him peeking around me! Silly billy.”
A tall, cobalt-maned unicorn in a sharp-looking Royal Guard dress uniform steps around Pinkie and holds out a foreleg, catching Trixie in a tight embrace as she practically dives into him. “Hello there, little sister,” he says, in a voice that would befit a Shakespearean actor. “I've not seen you in a long time.” He leans his head back to look her in the eyes. “Now what is this I've heard about you being married?” he asks with a grin.
Trixie's parents quickly come to greet him, and you and your parents get up to introduce yourselves as well. He's obviously a little dubious about you at first- not because of your being human, but from typical big-brother protectiveness- but when he hears about how you and his sister met and became close, and how your career together took off, you can practically see the metaphorical frost melting. “Hmm. Well,” he says quietly, looking you over with all the razor-sharp precision of an officer on inspection, “I always wanted my sister to meet a proper gentlestallion and settle down. I suppose a proper gentleman is a fine alternative.”
The grin that spreads across his face is quickly matched by your own, and you shake his offered hoof heartily. Introductions all around come quickly as everyone returns to the table, and the rest of the meal is accompanied by Lightflare relating the story of how he'd managed to make his way through the snowstorm. “I had finally arrived at the portal station after the train had diverted due to the storm, thanks to the friendly bus driver who stopped along the road I was galloping down. And then I found out that I was, in fact, not registered in the Portal Network database, and my military ID was insufficient for registration... so the station employees called my superiors to verify my information.” His horn lights up, and a bright, shiny new Portal Registration Card pops out of one of his dress shirt's pocket for a moment. “I had finally made it here to Earth, only to find that another snowstorm impeded my path! I had truly thought for a moment that the storm in Equestria had followed me!
“Well, to be honest, I found myself lost and unsure of what to do next. Earth is... disconcerting, to those unfamiliar with it. But there were a number of wonderful people who stepped up to help me when I needed it. There was a taxi driver from the nation of...” He pauses a moment. “Forgive me, the name escapes me at the moment... but it sounded much like Saddle Arabia.”
“Saudi Arabia?” Twilight suggests.
“That! Thank you, my dear. He was a delightful fellow, and gave me a ride that would have cost me thirty dollars for free, simply by allowing him to take a picture of us together. He had a good many pictures of non-humans on the dash of his vehicle, and asked me quite a few questions about myself and life in Equestria. And once he had taken me as far as he could, I accepted a ride from a wonderful family heading in this direction. More questions! But they were exceptionally polite and friendly, so I had no trouble with answering them all.
“Their destination was still a few dozen miles away from here, so we parted ways. They offered to drive me the rest of the way, but by then the snow was falling heavily and I would not have had them risk a round-trip in it, so I sought an alternate mode of transportation. Alas, nothing seemed to present itself, and I was just beginning to despair when a certain pink mare appeared from seemingly nowhere and asked if I was Trixie's brother.”
Trixie blinks at Pinkie. “Don't tell me you have a Pinkie Sense twitch for wayward brothers,” your wife says.
“Of course I do! I don't have any brothers of my own, only sisters, but plenty of my friends have brothers, and sometimes they go all wayward and stuff and need help getting where they need to be! And so, two twitches of the left hind leg, three flicks of the right ear, twitch-a-twitch tail... someone's brother needs a lift!”
Trixie can only laugh at that. “Thank you so much, Pinkie Pie,” she says quietly, giving the pink mare a broad smile. “I can't tell you how happy I am that my brother finally managed to make it to something he was invited to.” She gives him a playful grin.
“Hey, family is important!” Pinkie returns a smile with a broad grin. “That's one of the biggest things Equestrians and Earthlings have in common, after all. Well, that and belly buttons. Oooh! What if we had a holiday where we celebrated belly buttons with our families? That'd be great!”
Everyone at the table breaks out into laughter. “Ah, Pinkie,” Trixie giggles.
Dinner goes absolutely wonderfully after that, with Lightflare sharing stories about the time he's spent stationed in Horseshoe Bay- and the crazy things that went on there every time he tried to get leave to visit family or relax- and listening to everyone else's stories as well. Eventually everyone is too stuffed to eat another bite, and your parents, Trixie's, and Rarity's, as well as Granny Smith, all insist on helping with leftovers and dishes. You hear them chatting away amicably in the kitchen amidst the clinking of plates and silverware. “So it is not just our parents who do that, then?” Lightflare wonders, scratching his neck with a hoof.
“No, I think that's one of those things that's universal.” You chuckle. “I'm glad we finally had the chance to meet, Lightflare.”
“Oh, come now, call me Light. You are my brother-in-law.” He smiles. “I am also pleased that we finally had this opportunity, Donovan. I think it a lucky event that my sister met you.”
“I'm definitely not going to argue that,” you reply with a grin, gently laying your arm over Trixie's neck; she leans against you.
“Ahem! Everyone, may I have your attention?” Rarity speaks up from the front of the den. “It seems that the snowfall has been even heavier than expected, and the roads leading out from town are closed until plows can get to them in the morning. It seems we will greet this holiday snowed-in.” She smiles. “Fortunately, I've planned for this possibility- you'll find my little home-away-from-home quite spacious, and I've all the necessities to make an overnight stay pleasant and relaxing.”
“Hah! Crazy Earth weather strikes again.” Dash chuckles. “Well, it keeps you on your hooves, at least. You need help with setting up anything, Rare?”
“Oh, no, dear, you needn't worry. I have everything well in-hoof.”
“Ah, but Lady Rarity, please,” Light says, bowing his head a little. “I would feel derelict in my duties as an officer and a gentlestallion if I did nothing to assist.”
“Oh! Um... well.” Rarity blushes straight through her alabaster coat. “If... if you insist, good sir.”
You watch as your brother-in-law and the fashionista trot off together, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself; you hear Trixie do the same. “And they say Earth doesn't have any magic,” she murmurs, leaning against you as the two of you look out at the heavily falling snow. “Tonight has certainly felt magical to me. Is this that 'Christmas magic' I hear so much about?”
You smile at her as you run your fingers through her mane. “It just might be.”
Broadening Horizons (Bonus Chapter)
You step off the train into the bright afternoon sunlight, blinking rapidly until your eyes adjust. Somehow the sun always looks brighter here in Equestria than anywhere else on Equus, or at least it's seemed that way to you- but it could just be your own biases showing through. You remind yourself yet again to pick up a pair of sunglasses the next time you see them for sale.
You hear the train whistle as you step down off the platform. There isn't much in the way of stores or even homes by the station, but there is a broad, well-paved path leading towards what looks to be the town proper. You still find yourself having to shake a weird sense of vulnerability with how open everything is, how exposed to the sky you feel from almost every angle. Not that you expect any sort of threat here , of all places, but still- instincts adjust slowly.
Towards the center of town you can see a giant tree that towers above many of the small, thatched-roof homes and colorful businesses around it. Not wanting to make even more of a spectacle of yourself than you feel you already are, you decide on a casual, easy walk down the road and into town, heading towards the tree- from this angle, at least, it seems to be fairly close to the center of the place, and if nothing else it makes for a great landmark to orient yourself.
So this is Ponyville, you think to yourself, trying your best to look calm and disinterested even as you watch the various citizens go about their day. You get a lot of funny looks- understandable, perhaps, since there's a definite paucity of your own kind here- but nothing more untoward than that; in fact, some of them give you a friendly smile and even a wave, which you try to return with a polite nod of your head or a small wave of your own. You've never been much of one to overtly express emotion, but it doesn't hurt to try to seem at least a little friendly when in a new place... not to mention, there's a sort of atmosphere of community here that already seems to be soaking into you.
It doesn't take you very long at all to make it to the clearing surrounding the tree- and what you see there shocks you to the point where you actually feel your jaw hanging open. At some point, someone had built- no, grown- a library inside this giant tree, without so much as harming it; there were window shutters, a large door, and even what looked to be a small balcony with a telescope sitting up on a higher branch. You've never been a stranger to magic, but to see it applied like this completely blows your mind.
“Y'know, you could end up catching flies like that.” You practically spin in place as you hear a chuckle behind you, only to find a tall, slender pegasus mare standing next to you with an orange coat, a purple mane, and a cheeky grin on her muzzle. “Heh, sorry,” she says, giving you an apologetic downward flick of her ears. “Couldn't resist that.”
You place a claw against your chest as you try to catch your breath, and feel your heart still racing. “...well, I guess that's my cardio for the day,” you murmur.
The young-looking mare laughs. “A sense of humor! I like that in a griffon.” She seems to size you up for a moment. “I don't think I've seen you around Ponyville before. New to town?”
“Yeah, just waiting for my parents- they wanted to show me around.” You pause as you hear a faint chime, and reach back under your wing to grab your phone from your harness- there's a text message waiting for you. “Huh, looks like they're delayed a little bit,” you murmur.
“Hmm.” The mare seems to consider for a moment. “Eh, well, if you want a tour from someone who's grown up here, I've got some free time to kill,” she offers, holding out a hoof towards you. “I'm Scootaloo.”
“Xander.” You shake the offered hoof, careful not to scratch her hide with your claws. She blinks, her expression becoming thoughtful. “I've heard that name somewhere before,” she says quietly, tilting her head.
“Well, I think I'd remember if we'd met before.” You give her your best grin, getting a laugh out of her before recognition spreads across her face. “Wait!” she exclaims. “Now I remember where I've heard your name! Xander- are your parents Donovan and Trixie?”
You blink in shock. “You know them?”
“I've known them for years! Man, ever since I heard about the adoption I've wanted to get to meet you.” She gives you a broad smile. “And now here you are! Wait, hang on, I know somebody else who'd love to see you.” She gets a phone from her own saddlebags and quickly drags the toe of her hoof across the screen several times, then holds it up to her ear. “Hey, G?” she asks. “I ran into somebody you oughta meet. Can you come down to Books and Branches?”
Your sharp ears pick up the reply. “Sure thing, squirt. Be there in about five minutes or so.”
“We'll be here.” She ends the call and puts the phone away again. “So did you just get into town?” she asks.
“Yeah, actually. Just got here from getting my enhanced flyer's license up in Canterlot. It's provisional, so I couldn't fly the whole way from there to here- so I took the train.”
“And I'm guessing your folks are coming up from the portal station?”
“Yeah. I guess maybe there was a delay.”
“Heh, yeah, there's a lot of traffic heading up to Canterlot to prep for the Summer Sun Celebration next week; it's really playing havoc with the schedules. Man, sometimes I really wish Equestria had a highway system like America's- don't you?”
Oh, there's a subject you could go on about for hours. “You'd better believe it! I mean, even with wings, sometimes driving is just a lot easier. Especially in bad weather.”
You and Scootaloo talk for a short while about what sort of a road system Equestria would be best off with, until a shadow passes between you and the sun. You glance up to see a surprising sight- another griffon, this one an adult hen, circling over. She lets gravity bring her down to the ground, coming to an easy stop in front of the two of you. “Hey, squirt!” she says, ruffling Scootaloo's mane. “Who's your friend here?”
“You're not gonna believe this, G. Remember when we heard that Trixie and Donovan adopted a griffon fledgling?” She motions to you with a forehoof.
The other griffon blinks in surprise and turns to look at you. “You're Xander?” she asks.
You can only give her a confused stare. “Uh, yeah, that's me.”
The widest grin you've ever seen splits her beak. “Kid, it is great to meet you!” she says, grabbing your claw in her own and shaking it heartily. “When Don and Trix told me they finally decided to adopt, that was cool enough... but when they said they were takin' in an orphaned griffon? Floored me like an arctic downdraft. I just wish they hadn't decided to do it while Dash, Scoots and I were out in Vanhoofer!”
“It was, uh... sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing, actually....” Your mind is still reeling from the exuberant greeting you've just gotten.
“Yeah, they gave me a quick rundown of what happened, but I'd love to hear the whole story! Are you gonna be in town a while?”
“Um... yeah, my parents are going to meet me here but they're running a bit late.”
“Gotcha. Scoots, you hungry?” At the mare's enthusiastic nod, Gilda grins. “Then let's grab a bite to eat and then give Xander here the five-bit tour of Ponyville.”
To your intense surprise, there is actually a place that sells cooked meat products right by the edge of town. Gilda laughs at your disbelieving gaze. “Hey, you know that commerce smooths over a lot of rough roads,” she says. “With more humans and griffons coming to live in Equestria, a lot of ponies decided to cater to omnivore diets. It helps a lot that it's all nonsapient Earth stock, not anything from Equus.”
To her credit- and your continued surprise- Scootaloo doesn't seem the least bit fazed as you order a seared tuna steak and Gilda opts for some braised salmon. The mare looks entirely at ease sitting next to the two of you with her own grilled-daffodil-and-sourdough sandwich... which, interestingly enough, actually smells pretty appetizing to you as well. “So, Xander,” Gilda says, “tell us about how you ended up being adopted by Trixie and Donovan.”
It's not a terribly long story to tell, though it does take a little longer between bites of tuna- which is amazingly good, and you wouldn't believe it had been made by a pony if you hadn't seen it done with your own eyes- and questions from Gilda and Scootaloo. You tell them how you lost your father to darkfeather fever shortly after your fifth birthday, and your mother- desperate to pay off medical debts and keep your family's relatively high station in life going- started taking jobs as a hired sword for convoys in the more dangerous eastern regions... until, four years ago, the convoy she was escorting vanished without a trace, along with her. After a month of searching, the kingdom declared her presumed dead, your family home and belongings were sold to settle remaining debts, and you were placed under the care of the crown- or, more specifically, the government's woefully-underfunded foster-care services.
And it was there you languished for four years, going from one lousy orphanage to the next, gradually becoming angry and bitter at the variety of incompetence you were subjected to- from well-meaning but ineffective, to downright arrogant and cruel. Potential parents were far more interested in younger chicks to bond with, leaving an older juvenile like yourself out in the cold. You had pretty much resigned yourself to being stuck in the system until you reached the age of maturity when, finally, relief came- in the form of the Griffon Kingdom's first mass-media expose.
One of Gilda's eyebrows raises enough to threaten to lift off from her head. “You ended up on television?” she asks.
“Well, yeah, for all of about ten seconds.” You chuckle. “But apparently those ten seconds were enough. It turns out that the story about the miserable conditions and low adoption rates of the foster-care system caused a huge uproar through the kingdom; it was a punch in the beak for our public image, especially when we're still making appeals to first-world Earth governments for direct trade contacts. The report got a lot of airtime, and when Tr-” You have to correct yourself; it's still weird using these words after so long- “Mom and Dad saw it, they noticed my little section of the video and wanted to know more about me.”
If Gilda looks interested, then Scootaloo seems absolutely riveted. “And then?” she asks, her sandwich sitting forgotten on its plate in front of her.
“They made calls, they arranged a meeting. Which at first I really wasn't looking forward to.” You shrug slightly at their questioning looks. “Honestly, I thought it was going to be some stupid self-promotional thing where a couple of celebrities stop by, look sorry for me, get pictures taken and skip town as fast as they came in. So imagine how surprised I was when I'm called to the courtyard and there's no cameras, no reporters... just a hopeful-looking pony and human standing there, smiling.
“We talked for, I don't know... forty-five minutes, maybe an hour tops. Not much about what happened to me, but mostly about... what I wanted . Can you believe that, in those four years I spent waiting, nobody ever asked me that? But that's just what they wanted to know. What kind of life I wanted away from the orphanages, being my own griffon, and... being their adopted child.” You close your eyes for a moment. “When that conversation ended, I went back into the orphanage with them... and then I left with them. Forever.”
“Heh.” You just catch Gilda wiping away a tear. “That's freakin' awesome, dude. Dashie always said those two could give a lucky kid a great home... I knew she was right.”
“I'm really happy for you, Xander,” Scootaloo adds; her expression has softened, and her smile makes you feel a little warm inside. “I know how it feels to have a family again after a long time alone.”
You stare at her in shock, barely aware of your dropped fork clattering against the table. “You mean...?”
“Yeah, I was an orphan too.”
“ 'Was'? Then, who...?”
With a tilt of her head and a flick of her ears, the mare indicates the hen sitting next to her; Gilda raises a claw in acknowledgment.
It's a wonder the bottom of your beak doesn't hit the table hard enough to go through it. A pony and a human adopting a griffon seemed weird enough, but understandable; ponies are practically paragons of love and tolerance, at least compared to your typical griffon. But one of your own adopting a pony? You would've thought most griffons would sooner chew their own wings off than do something so “sappy” and “dumb”. “I... I don't....” is all you manage to stammer out.
Gilda laughs good-naturedly. “Yeah, I know, I know. Huh, how would Twilight say it... 'behavior atypical of griffon societal norms' or something like that, I bet. Well, kiddo, we might as well 'fess up- a lot of griffons are dweebs .” She grins. “I used to be a dweeb once. But then I stopped being a dweeb and started being awesome. True story.”
You can't help but laugh at that, finally breaking the logjam in your brain. “Yeah, I mean... no offense, but... wow. You'd get a lot of dirty looks back home.”
“Fft, like I wasn't already.” The hen shrugs. “You'd know how I got treated if you knew who my lairmate is.”
“Who?” you naturally ask.
“Oh, just somepony she knew from flight school,” comes the reply from behind you. You reflexively turn in your seat... and what you see makes you forget to stop the motion of your body and sends your chair falling backwards with you still in it. This leaves you in the perhaps enviable position of landing beak-first on the ground at the hooves of Rainbow Dash. “Whoa! Hey there,” she exclaims, reaching down to you with a forehoof. “You alright?”
“Oh, jeez....” You can't help but mutter to yourself in disgust even as you raise a claw for the mare to help you up to all fours. Beakplanting right in front of your idol? Smooth move, Xander. “Sorry, you just sort of caught me by surprise,” you manage to say as you stand again.
“Heh! Sorry. I was just kind of listening in. I'm Rainbow Dash.” She holds out a hoof to shake. “Who are you?”
“I'm, uh... my name's Xander....” Your brain is trying to run itself in circles despite your best efforts to get it under control. It's her, it's actually her! one part of your mind is chirping like a songbird stuck on “repeat”; get yourself under control before you babble like a plucking doofus! the other is screaming at it.
Thankfully Scootaloo comes to your rescue... sort of. “Hey, I know that look,” she says teasingly. “You're a fan of Rainbow Dash, aren't you?”
“I, um....” You sheepishly look away for a moment, and Dash chuckles. “Hey, it's cool, kiddo,” she says. “Always glad to meet a fan. Xander, you said? Wanna autograph?”
“Um... sure!” You glance around desperately for something for her to sign- but she's already ahead of you, tugging a mini-poster and marker out of her saddlebags and then moving up to the table. “Go ahead back to your meal, kiddo, it'll get cold,” she tells you as she uncaps the marker and begins writing on the poster. “Have you seen any of my performances?”
“Uh, yeah, one... it was when the Wonderbolts were performing with the Blackwings out at Windermund last year. I got to see your loose-wing Immelmare maneuver!”
“Heh. Yeah, it went really well in that show, I gotta say. Did you get to see the Feather Fling Formation, too?”
Your expression falls. “Um, no, I didn't....”
“Aw, that's a shame. Why not?”
“I, uh....” You look down at your meal. “The orphanage had found out that I'd snuck out to see your show, and asked stadium security to haul me out so that they could bring me back.”
The marker stops moving, and she glances up at you. “...orphanage?” she repeats. “You... oh. Oh, jeez , I'm sorry, kiddo.”
“No no no, it's okay!” You raise your claws in a reassuring gesture. “It's okay, really. I, um....”
“He's actually here in Ponyville to meet up with his adoptive parents,” Scootaloo finishes. She's doing a fantastic job of keeping her expression neutral, to the point where you wonder if she's ever considered going into acting.
Dash's expression is one of confusion. “Okay, but, uh... we're a pretty long way from the kingdom; why are you meeting them here?”
“I just came from Canterlot. I was getting my flyer's license.”
“Well, hey, congratulations! ...but doesn't that mean you're an Equestrian citizen?”
“It certainly does,” comes another voice from behind Dash. This time she's the one taken by surprise, dropping the pen as she spins around- only to see Trixie standing before her with a playful grin, and Donovan right behind her. The look of shock on Dash's face is priceless. “Guh!” she exclaims. “How'd you sneak up on me like that, Trix?!”
“Sound-muffling spell.” Trixie clops a hoof against the pavement, but it hardly makes a sound. “Necessary for a showpony who depends on positioning in her act!”
“But... that... argh!” Dash makes a playful show of rubbing at her head with her forehooves, before leaning forward to hug Trixie, who returns the embrace, and then rearing up to hug Donovan as well.
By the time she's done, you've left your seat and pad your way up to them as well. “Hi, Mom,” you say casually. “Hi, Dad.”
“Yawuh-?” Dash's mouth goes as wide as yours had, and she looks between you and your adoptive parents in shock. Then realization hits her. “Ohhhhhhh - I remember now! Ha ha, wow.” She puts a foreleg over your neck and gives you a playful noogie with her other forehoof, making you laugh. “Sure, guys, just leave me hanging,” she chuckles, looking at Gilda and Scootaloo, who are laughing heartily.
“Sorry, Dashie,” Gilda snickers. “But that was just too funny to pass up.”
“You know, I think we missed something,” Donovan says to Trixie, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity.
You all return to the table, and Scootaloo tells your adoptive parents how she came across you at the library, and how Gilda and then Dash got to meet you. To your surprise, all of them have known each other for years. “Yeah, dude,” Gilda chuckles. “Heck, if it weren't for those two, I don't know if I ever would've learned to quit worrying about how other griffons looked at me, and then I wouldn't have had the confidence to agree to adopt Scoots here. And lemme tell ya, it would've really been my loss.” She reaches over to ruffle the mare's mane, getting a laugh.
Trixie gives the hen an appreciative smile before turning to you. “So how did your license test go?” she asks.
By way of answer, you retrieve your wallet from your harness, and open it to show the laminated card nestled within. Trixie and Donovan both grin at the sight of it. “Congratulations,” the human tells you, patting your neck lightly. “First try, too!”
“Really?” Dash grins as well. “Yeah, that's not bad at all. You must be a pretty talented flyer, Xander.”
“Well, I hope so, I....” You pause for a moment- are you actually brave enough to voice your life's dream in front of your idol? She gives you a quizzical look. “You what, kiddo?” she asks.
“I... I want to join the Wonderbolts someday.”
Well, there it is, out in the open. Dash's expression is unreadable for a moment. “Why the Wonderbolts?” she asks. “I would've thought that the Blackwings would be your first choice.”
“Dash....” Gilda's expression falls a bit. “His odds wouldn't be very good, no matter how good a flyer he is.”
“Why?”
“Griffon society is stupid, Dash. Without a lot of influence in the government- a family with a lot of political power or wealth, celebrity, crap like that- he'd have a hard time getting a claw in the door in anything beyond basic infantry, let alone considered for one of the actual performance teams.” Gilda sighs. “It's still more 'who you know' than 'what you can do'.”
A flash of actual fury crosses Dash's face for a moment. “Well, buck that,” she murmurs, turning back to you. “Equestria's gonna lead the way on this, then. I'll tell you what, Xander- when you get your full license, then me, Scoots and Gilda will see about giving you some advanced flight training. If we can get you up to qualifying standards... then I'll sponsor an entry application for you. If I can get you accepted, it'll mean the full four months of basic and advanced training once you're of age, of course.”
“That's still less than I would've had back home,” you tell her.
“...oh. Right, I forgot you guys still have mandatory conscription. But since you're both a citizen here and a resident of Earth, they can't call you in.” A smug grin spreads across her muzzle.
You slump in your seat as the enormity of all this hits you at once. You've just been promised flight lessons by your idol, and her promise to do what she can to get you accepted into Equestria's premiere aerial performers. And here you were just getting used to having an actual home! Donovan seems to notice your bewilderment. “You okay, Xander?” he asks.
“Yeah, Dad, it's just... this is a lot to take in.” Your claw is actually trembling as you try to smooth back your crest in a motion of nonchalance; it's clear you're not actually fooling anybody. You turn towards the sky-blue pegasus. “Miss Dash... thank you. I mean, really, thank you . I can't tell you how much this means to me.”
“Heh. No 'miss', kiddo. Just 'Dash' is good.” She smiles. “And I'm not just doing this as a favor to friends. I think you've got a lot of potential, and it'd be a crime to see it go to waste because of dumbflank idiocy that's out of your control.”
You feel Trixie's hoof on the side of your neck, rubbing comfortingly against your feathers. “Is this what you want, Xander?” she asks. “If you really feel that you want to try for a spot on the Wonderbolts, we'll stand behind you one hundred percent.”
It is a weird feeling, you decide, to have what seemed so impossible suddenly within your grasp- like an unexpected clear spot in a harsh winter storm. You find a nice distant place in the back of your mind and shove all your doubts and insecurities into it. “Yeah, Mom,” you say quietly. “I really do. I... I think I can make it. I want to give it that try.”
Everyone else at the table is smiling at you, and you can't help but feel warmed by it. “Awesome!” Dash says. “Trix, D, I'll see about going up my chain of command and getting ponies talking about this. We'll probably run into some jerks who don't want to see a griffon succeed in a pony-centric outfit- but I know for a fact that Captain Spitfire hates that sort of speciesism with a passion... and I would really not wanna be the poor chump who gets on her bad side because of that.”
"And I'll have a talk with Lightflare, too," Trixie adds. "He has a bit of pull, and he can definitely rally support if we need it."
“That would definitely help,” Donovan says. “Anything else you can recommend, RD?”
“Books. Lots of books. Learn everything you can about the mechanics of flight, aerodynamics, maneuvering. Hay, I even took up studying aerospace a bit for help with ultra-high-altitude maneuvers.”
“I can Email you guys the titles of some of our books at home once we get back there,” Gilda adds. “Some of them are pretty technical, though.”
You nod. “It's okay. I can learn.”
A pleased smile crosses Dash's face. “That's the right attitude to have, kid. Now... looks like you guys are done with lunch, and I already ate- Trixie, Donovan? You guys hungry?” When they both shake their heads, she smiles. “Okay then. I've got a bit of time to kill... how about we chat for a while?”
Gilda chuckles. “Yeah, we already promised Xander a quick tour of the town, too.”
“Okay! We can hold two birds with one branch.” You all stand up and walk back towards the center of town, with you and the other flyers staying groundbound out of respect for your adoptive parents. Along the way, Scootaloo trots up next to you. “Say,” she half-whispers towards you. “Can I see your phone for a second?”
“Uh, sure....” Bewildered, you take out your phone and unlock it for her, then give it to her; with the tip of one of her feathers, she expertly moves through menus and then types something in. “Here,” she says quietly, hoofing it back to you with a smile on her face.
Her name and phone number are now in your contacts. Your beak hangs wide open at this, and your blank stare is met with a sly wink and a grin before the young mare trots up ahead again to talk with her own adoptive parents. You're pretty sure your own new parents are watching you as well, so with all the grace and slyness of a drunk manticore trying to play hopscotch, you fumble your phone back into your harness.
Donovan and Trixie are doing their best not to give each other knowing looks and smiles, but you can spot them anyway. As for you, you just have to keep yourself from laughing at the absurdity of this whole situation. Wasn't it just half a year ago that you'd resigned yourself to a long wait before you were finally given control of your own destiny, and then the grind of trying to find decent gainful employment in a society with its collective beak up its collective butt? And now here you are, in the care of two of the most decent and loving individuals you've ever had the luck to meet, determined to clear a path for you towards whatever pursuit you want to chase. You'd wanted to stay aloof at first, to not risk your feelings being clawed apart again... but you couldn't, not for long; over the short time you've lived with your adoptive parents, they've patiently broken your emotional walls down, one by one, with nothing more than attention and empathy. It might still be a little difficult to call them “Mom” and “Dad”, but you have a feeling it'll only get easier.
And now you're looking at a future where you could have what you've wanted most since that air show in Windermund. It's going to take hard work, lots of it, you know- but now you have family and friends who want to help you along the way, who you honestly feel you can depend on. And the fact that you have the attention of an undeniably cute young mare as well is certainly not hurting your ego in any way.
It's insane. You half-believe that you're only dreaming, that such a sudden reversal of fortune could only happen in the realm of fantasy... but you've never even had dreams this good. But you are excited beyond measure at the chance you've been given now, and you will do everything you can to earn it- to put the name Xander Snowsong in lights, and show the world your appreciation of those who took a chance on you, who gave you that shot you never expected to have.
Wait, you amend yourself. That's not quite right. The name that I'll be putting in lights... is Xander Trellis.
And you decide, with a satisfied nod of your head, that you're perfectly okay with that.