Astronymous

by FanOfMostEverything

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Equestria Girls, Sunset Shimmer (Demon), Sunset Shimmer, Twilight Sparkle (EqG), Midnight Sparkle, Drama
Length: 5067

Sunset talks to herself, for a given definition of every one of those words.

In the wake of Camp Everfree and the latest in a long line of raging she-demons, Sunset’s dreams lead her down a familiar path of memories. She’s never been one to pass up an opportunity; it’s high time to ask a question that’s been bothering her since the Friendship Games.

That’s the plan, anyway. One of the many problems with seeking wisdom from demons is that you get far more than what you wanted to know.

Winner of Bicyclette's SciSet Contest and Reactception's Sunset x Midnight contest, graciously beta-read by MarvelandPonder. Rated Teen for suggestive content well north of what the Dazzlings got away with.

Published 2023-08-25 14:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-08-25 14:40:01 UTC

No Relation to Any MyStable Gossip Accounts

In the wake of the Camp Everfree debacle, seeing Twilight Sparkle sound asleep was Sunset Shimmer’s greatest reward.

Sunset didn’t usually like thinking in terms of rewards and quests. It came too close to the mindset of her bad old days, when everything was an asset, an obstacle, or a nonentity. Even without those bad memories, that line of thought still made her feel like some sixth-century sellhorn wandering the countryside and offering cursebreaking and monster slaying services to the highest bidder.

There was also the baggage of another title associated with those wanderers: hero. Even after the Friendship Games, Sunset hadn’t really felt she deserved to be called a hero, though she had to admit, it was hard to deny after she and her friends had gotten matching costumes and powers beyond mortal mares.

Er, women. Sunset’s vocabulary always took a turn for the Equestrian after high-magic events.

She shook her head as best she could with Twilight using her shoulder as a pillow. Most of their class was dead tired after Gloriosa’s rampage (and rebuilding the docks half a dozen times.) Sunset wasn’t far off herself, going by how her mind was wandering. But for now, she appreciated seeing a job well done, her friend only shifting when the bus hit a bump in the road and not because of some nightmare concocted by Midnight.

Yes. Her friend.

Which was all she needed Twilight to be, especially with the advent of Timber Spruce. Twilight was happy, and that was what mattered.

A yawn escaped Sunset, her eyelids growing irresistibly heavy. She wrapped a friendly arm around Twilight’s shoulders, gave one last look at the other girl’s peaceful sleep, and had one last conscious thought before drifting off herself.

“Must be nice.”

Sunset went down a staircase, though it was hard to say how. She shifted between blinks, between breaths. Sometimes on four legs, sometimes on two. Sometimes she drifted down on wings of light, of feathers, of tattered skin. The bodies weren’t always consistently put together either; she was a human with a horn, a unicorn with hands, a draconequus in all but name. At one point, she was a two-toned sun divorced of any other body, filling the passageway with the light of her soul.

The staircase itself was as stable as she wasn’t, poured concrete jutting from a wall of the same. An aggressively plain metal guardrail girded the other side, blocking Sunset from a drop into a bottomless void.

No matter her form, Sunset knew this was not a staircase of honor. No great deed was commemorated below. Nothing valued was there. What was there was dangerous and repulsive, a danger to the body and the soul. It could kill.

As she passed yet another bluntly worded sign, Sunset regretted the Nickerpedia dive that had taught her about long-term nuclear waste warnings.

Eventually, she reached the bottom, the brutally industrial walls sometimes giving way to the cobblestones of Castle Canterlot's catacombs. Silently, Sunset moved through the maze of passages, impelled by unquestionable dream logic to where she needed to be.

Eventually, she reached the cell, concrete and cobblestone giving way to clear plastic and a shimmering, pearlescent force field. The captive sat up on her bed, ruddy skin contrasting her orange prison uniform in a way that would likely make Rarity wake up in a cold sweat. Some of Sunset's other friends might join in when they spotted the tearing claws, the mouth full of fangs, the green-burning embers hanging in the voids the creature called eyes.

Perhaps the worst part for Sunset herself was how the demon had changed. Beyond those lingering changes, the creature wasn't twisted by hatred and stolen magic. Sunset's own face stared back at her, on her own body.

Then it smirked. “Well gosh, warden, what brings you all the way down here?”

Sunset snapped to lucidity, years of preparation for dealing with the return of Nightmare Moon coming to the fore. Her body settled on the form she wore at the Friendship Games, luminous and glorious. She didn't plan on immediately blasting the she-demon with coherent Harmony, but she hadn't forgotten the power of intimidation. “I’m wondering that myself.”

The demon wasn't impressed, leaning back against the cell wall. “Speaking as someone who knows the real you on a very close basis, I think we both know.”

Sunset crossed her arms. “Humor me.”

“Oh, come on." The demon flung herself off the bed and started pacing the length of her cell. "After everything you went through on this little trip? Young women realizing their full, incredible potential before getting rainbow-smacked for daring to step out of line? Of course you were feeling nostalgic. Especially when you were filling in for the princess." She sneered. "At least until someone better suited for the role stepped up and replaced you. Again.”

It took a few moments of contemplation for Sunset to answer. “Obvious bait aside, you’re not entirely wrong.”

“Really?" The demon cleared her throat and hid her shock as quickly as she could, a familiar sight for anyone who'd known Rainbow Dash for more than a week. "I mean, of course not. We both know you’re nothing without me." She nodded towards the barrier between them. "And you are the warden, so you can just—”

“Not that. You were on my mind, but not the way you used to be.”

The demon grinned at that. “You mean how we’d spend just about every night together?”

Sunset gave her a flat look. “As I tossed and turned and felt the wings burst out of my shoulders like flaming irons over and over again, then betrayed every lesson Celestia had ever taught me while violating my classmates’ free will.”

That got a snort. “Sure. Because if there’s one thing that’s defined our life, it’s unflinching loyalty to Celestia.”

“I should just leave," Sunset said, holding back a groan, "but I know that if I do, I’ll keep coming here until I actually ask the question.”

The demon moved to the foot of her bed and flopped down, the mattress springs squealing in protest. “Lay it on me, Sunny, all this talk of better times has me in a good mood.”

“Why does Midnight Sparkle have her own name and you don’t?”

The two stared at each other for either hours or less than a second. Even when lucid, Sunset still found dream time slippery. Eventually, the demon broke the silence. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You have the darkest essence of your mind externalized in front of you, full of forbidden knowledge torn from the Element of Magic, and that’s the one thing you want to know?”

Sunset shrugged. “It just bugs me.”

The demon tilted back, flopping onto her mattress and staring at the ceiling. “Pathetic. No, pitiable. No, just sad. So very, very sad." She sprang to her feet suddenly enough that Sunset had to keep herself from flinching. "This is what became of Sunset Shimmer? Don’t you remember when Celestia caught us trying to draw a summoning circle so we could tease the secrets of the universe out of Tartarus’s captives?” A few shelves of books best left unread appeared in and around the cell.

“I also remember her explaining all the flaws in my confinement runes and exactly what the Tartarans would do to me." Sunset dismissed the memories and crossed her arms. "Most of which I ended up doing to myself.”

“Not the point. What happened to our ambition? Our plans? Our unrelenting thirst for greatness?”

“Look where that got you." Tapping the barrier might have been in poor taste. Sunset did it anyway.

The demon threw her head back and groaned. "Again, not the point."

Another nagging question came to mind. "What would you have even done if that awful plan had actually worked? Twilight and the others reduced to a greasy smear, the teenage army somehow laying waste to all before them despite unfamiliar bodies, no magical experience, and having every tactical disadvantage possible.”

“We would have grabbed more ponies on the other side of the mirror," the demon insisted. "The teenagers were just the vanguard.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. She remembered just how much long-term planning she'd done on the worst night of her life. “Sure they were. Best-case scenario, what would you actually do once you clawed your way to the top?”

The demon scoffed and threw up her arms. “Be the ruler Celestia never could be, of course!”

“What would that entail for tax policy?”

A blink. The arms fell back to the prisoner's sides. “What?”

“Foreign outreach programs? Sanitation funding? Road maintenance?” Sunset ticked off the points on her fingers.

One of the demon's eyelids twitched. Sunset hoped she didn't still do that in real life. “You expect me to have an entire domestic policy written up?”

That got a shrug. “Equestria certainly would. Like you said, you’re the worst parts of me.”

“Darkest,” the demon snarled through gritted teeth.

“Either way, that includes rushing into things without thinking about them because my temper got the better of me. That worked out in the end with running away to another world. Trying to run a country on spite was doomed to failure. Princess Twilight did us a favor by smacking us down at the Fall Formal." Sunset caught herself and groaned. "And now you’ve got me lumping us together.”

The demon laughed. Not some bloodcurdling cackle or sadistic snicker; it was Sunset's laugh, the sincere, heartfelt one her friends coaxed out of her almost every day. “That’s your answer, by the way.”

Sunset blinked, still trying to adjust to hearing something so clearly herself out of her worst self. “What?”

“To why I never got my own name." The demon sat back on the bed, all fury forgotten in favor of a much more casual air. "Our all-too-brief moment of triumph wasn’t any different from what we’d been doing before. We were just saying the quiet part loud.”

“Even at my worst, I never hurt anyone." Sunset jabbed a finger at the demon. "You tried to kill Princess Twilight within minutes of coming into existence.”

“Because she was still a threat," the demon said slowly, as though explaining something to a foal, "and because we didn’t have to worry about the jumped-up monkeys ganging up on us anymore.”

“When you should have worried about the princess taking back control of her attuned artifact." Sunset sighed and turned towards the stairs. "Look, if you’re just going to run me around in circles, I really am leaving.”

"See you tomorrow, then."

"Sure." Sunset looked back. "I'll be armed with the most annoying song Pinkie Pie can think of." A legion of pink shadows formed around her, instruments vague but smiles clear as day.

The demon's gaze darted around them. The yovidaphonist made her break out into a cold sweat. “Y-you know," she said as she backed into a corner of her cell, "this undercuts you trying to cast yourself as 'the good one.'"

Sunset walked back in front of her, the phantoms dispersing with a faint giggle and the scent of cotton candy. "And here I thought you'd be proud," she said, one eyebrow raised.

"Maybe a little bit," the demon muttered, looking away. She straightened up and marched back to the other side of the barrier. "Can you really blame a girl for being a little nostalgic for the last time she got to stretch her legs? My point is that you may hate me, but you still recognize me as a part of you. The part you hate." She sneered. "Because if we took away the guilt and self-loathing from your new attempt at a personality, there wouldn’t be much left beyond ‘looks great in leather.’”

With equal sarcasm, Sunset drawled, “Gosh, I wonder why I still feel a degree of self-loathing.”

“Meanwhile, you thought Daydream needed her own name.”

Sunset didn't have anything to say to that. Indeed, for a surreal moment, she found herself looking at that brilliant figure from the outside, the troubled expression on the glowing face matching the feelings in her heart.

The demon kept talking even as Sunset collected herself. “I haven’t just been using plural pronouns to get under your skin, Sunny. You may be on the side of the angels these days, but deep down you know what you really are." She jerked both thumbs at herself. "And you’re looking at it.

“Compare us with Twilight and Midnight. We’ve been in their head; we’ve felt how they think of each other. There’s no recognition there, just hostility towards an intruder in what’s meant to be her mind, pronoun deliberately left vague." The demon shook her head. “And no wonder! No one looked at the girl tearing one world apart to study another and thought she was Twilight Sparkle. No, they all thought, Twilight would never do such a thing. She’s so sweet and innocent and harmless and funny and cute and—”

“I get the idea.” Sunset had no idea how to feel about watching her own face melt into sentimentality like that. It definitely didn't help the ache in her gut.

The demon cleared her throat. “Right. Meanwhile, Midnight is everything Twilight isn’t. Merciless, cruel, ambitious, self-assured, comfortable in her own body." She shuddered, a sloppy grin on her face as her arms wrapped around herself. "She could just wrap me in those wings and—”

“I get the idea.” Sentimentality was one thing. Sunset could live a long, happy life without ever seeing her face do that again.

“Hey, where do you think those thoughts go when you repress them?”

“I am not having this conversation," Sunset said, "especially not now or with you.”

“It’s practically my job to tell you what you don’t want to hear, Sunny." After a moment, the demon added, "And vice versa. The ‘actually running Equestria’ thing was valid criticism. Definite point in your column. Letting Twilight go?" She shook her head. "Not so much.”

That was bait. Sunset knew it. She knew the demon knew she knew it. But she couldn't let that pass. “I didn’t ‘let her go.’ She’s her own person.”

“A person we had in the palm of our hand.” The demon held hers up for emphasis.

“I don’t even know if she’s attracted to girls!”

That got a flat stare. “She was practically waiting for us to kiss her after you sent Midnight into dormancy at the Friendship Games.”

Sunset shook her head. “She wasn’t remotely ready for anything romantic until now. I know from firsthand experience how rough it is after getting overwhelmed by magic.”

The demon snorted. “Only if you lose.”

“Remember what she told us about her first days at CHS?" Lockers formed along the prison walls, along with a fidgeting purple shade. "She thought she was in a never-ending practical exam. One wrong answer and we’d expel her from ‘friendship school.’" Sunset dismissed the memory with a wave of her hand. "There’s no way I could pile the pressures of a girlfriend on top of that.”

“Yes, because unconditional love and support was the last thing she needed," the demon said, rolling her eyes.

Sunset just stared at her for a few moments. "What?” said the prisoner.

Sunset shook her head. “It’s weird to hear you sincerely talk about the power of unconditional love.”

“Hey, I’m just Grogar’s advocate, saying all the thoughts you’re afraid to voice. Like how we’re kicking ourselves for not making Twilight ours before some dweeb in cargo shorts seduced her with mineralogy trivia." The demon brought a hand to her chin and grinned. "Not that we couldn’t easily take her back.”

“I’m not ruining Twilight’s happiness for my own self-gratification," said Sunset, hands on her hips. "She’s not a prize to be won.”

“Certainly not his. One bit of leverage—”

“That’s not who I am anymore.”

The demon barked out a laugh. “Really? After threatening to come down here and march in the Pink Parade?" She leaned forward, her grin taking on a sinister cast. "To say nothing for all those plans for getting him to talk when we suspected he was behind all the incidents at camp.”

“I dismissed most of those the second I came up with them," Sunset insisted. "The rest were calmly, reasonably talking to him because Timber’s a person who deserves dignity and respect, not some obstacle to trample.”

The demon crossed her arms, eyes half-lidded. “You cannot honestly think a person who calls himself ‘the Picasso of noodles’ deserves dignity and respect.”

“I’m friends with Pinkie Pie.”

That got a flinch before the demon composed herself and jabbed a finger at Sunset. “We wouldn’t have to trample him if you hadn’t let Twilight slip through our fingers.”

“Now you're just repeating yourself. Look, she’s my friend. If those two have a fairy tale romance, I will go to their wedding in the ugliest bridesmaid dress Rarity can bear to sew, and I'll do it with a smile on my face." Sunset pointed at her expression to demonstrate. "If they break up next week, I’ll be there for Twilight with a carton of ice cream and a marathon of soft sci-fi movies that we can mock together. When she stops hurting and I won't just be going for the rebound, then we can see what happens.”

“Sure you will. And if Timber hurts her?”

Sunset narrowed her eyes. "She's not some damsel in distress to swoop in and rescue."

The demon matched her expression. "She was afraid of getting a bad grade in friendship. Do you really think she'll stand up for herself to a boyfriend? Especially if he tells her it's normal?" She bunched her claws into fists, knuckles whitening and fangs out. "That she would if she really loves him?"

Sunset caught her first response, took a deep breath, and let her own hands relax. “If he does—and I know Timber, that's an 'if' bigger than your ego—we’ll be first in line to get a piece of that dingus.”

That got a wide grin. The demon held out her hand for a shake. “That’s my girl.”

Sunset reached out. She'd have to pass her hand through the barrier, but for something like this, it—

“So. Come here often?”

Both froze and turned to see a girl in a blend of pantsuit and the ensemble she'd gotten from her magical geode, arms crossed and foot tapping on the prison floor.

“Twilight!?” angel and demon both cried. They turned to each other and, still in sync, said, “This isn’t you?”

“Sunny," said the demon, "if it were me, she’d be wearing a lot less.”

“I’m standing right here,” Twilight deadpanned.

The demon licked her lips “I am fully aware.”

“You’ll have to pardon her," said Sunset. "She’s… Well, you know.”

That got a brief, sharp nod. Twilight's expression didn't soften in the least. “I have some idea. After all, I’ve been kicking myself all weekend for not having the courage to mention the dreams involving my demon until circumstances forced the matter.”

“Pretty sure I’m only here because of this weekend. Midnight and Gloriosa and everything else got me thinking of my own worst day.” Sunset jerked a thumb at her demon.

“Yes, because you clearly have such an adversarial relationship.”

“Oh." Sunset reviewed the last few minutes and winced. "How much of that did you hear? We were at each other’s throats for most of it.”

“You wuss." The demon sneered. "You wouldn’t go for someone's throat if they'd read too many terrible vampire stories.”

“See? Like that.”

“Hmm. I found my way here around 'a piece of that dingus,' so I suppose I am working with incomplete information.” Twilight turned to the demon. “So, what’s your name?”

Once again, Sunset heard her own laugh from a different source. “That’s actually why the esteemed warden came down here in the first place. Though if you ask me, I’m the real Sunset." The demon stuck her tongue out. "She wants to be Daydream, let her.”

“Do you want your own name?”

The demon opened her mouth, but hesitated for several seconds before turning to Sunset. “You’re sure you didn’t dream her up?”

“What, you can dish out uncomfortable questions but you can’t take them?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Sunset gave the most beatific grin she could. “Just playing Grogar’s advocate.”

“It’s a simple question," said Twilight. "Do you want your own name?”

“This entire argument is a pointless waste of effort,” droned a voice from behind her. Clinking chains heralded a fourth figure shuffling into view. She lacked wings or a horn and wore the same orange uniform as Sunset's demon, along with rainbow-streaked hand and ankle cuffs. Still, Midnight's deep lilac skin and glasses of burning magic were instantly recognizable.

The other prisoner perked up upon spotting her. “Oh! Shame the wings are missing, but I like where this is going.”

Midnight spared her an uncomprehending glance before turning back to the jailers. “I, for one, will continue to think of you as Sunset. And her as Twilight." She glared at her other self. "Uncommitted. Liminal. Inevitably leading to darker things.”

Sunset wasn't any happier to see her. “What are you still doing here?”

Her demon sighed. “I talked about Midnight in the present tense for a reason, you know. If the princess couldn’t get rid of me with a real Element of Harmony, your local bootlegs certainly wouldn’t do the job. Besides, a lobotomy doesn’t seem like the friendliest thing you can do to a girl.”

Sunset and Twilight both gasped. "What?" they chorused.

"I admit, I may have been the slightest bit disingenuous earlier," the demon said with a shrug, leaning against the opening to her cell as best she could without touching the barrier. "The old Sunset's still in there, just buried deep under all the friendship and rainbows. The drive to greatness gets channeled into art, video games, 'being a better person.' All the stupid crap you do instead of fulfilling our destiny." She nodded at the two Sparkles. "Same story with Twilight. You can't take away her thirst for knowledge without fundamentally reshaping who she is, and last I checked, those store-brand Elements aren't packing chaos magic."

Midnight nodded. "As I said. I am inevitable."

Sunset flared her luminous wings. “You going to behave, Miss Inevitable?”

That got a shrug. “Inevitability means I don’t have to rush." Midnight spared a glance at the amethyst around Twilight's neck. "And it appears that I’ll get significant data from passive observation for a while.”

“For what it’s worth," Twilight added, "this is the first time I've dreamt of Midnight since we saved Gloriosa."

"A brief interruption, as my colleague has made clear."

"Colleague, huh?" Sunset's demon grinned and winked at Midnight. "It's a start."

Midnight blinked, her uncertainty making her look much more like Twilight than Sunset had ever seen. "Um..."

Twilight snapped her fingers. “Sunspot.”

Sunset had no idea what she meant by that, and going by their blank looks, neither did the demons. “Huh?” said hers.

Twilight pointed at her, a triumphant grin on her face. “Sunspot Shimmer. Still hot and bright and powerful, dark only in comparison to the greater brilliance surrounding her.”

“That is completely insipid." The newly dubbed Sunspot sighed. "And I have no way of stopping you from using it.”

"Well, I like it," said Sunset. She smiled at Twilight, reached for another conversational topic, and mentally overbalanced. “So, uh, come here often?” She proceeded to mentally lie on the mental floor and wish for death, a truly heroic effort keeping any of that from playing out in the dream.

For her part, Twilight grinned. Right, Timber had established she had a thing for cheesy one-liners. “Skin-to-skin contact may not be the best choice until you get better control of your new magic.”

“Phrasing!” cried Midnight from her spot next to the murmuring Sunspot, blushing magenta but making no effort to move.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think either of us was thinking along those lines.”

“I contain all of Twilight’s repressed thoughts and impulses." Midnight shuddered. "I know exactly what she was thinking.”

“Oh?" Sunspot said with a predatory grin. "Do tell.”

“Well, I, that is...” Midnight sputtered her way into fidgeting incoherence, Sunspot's grin only widening.

“She has no idea how to respond to positive social interaction," Twilight noted. "Especially when disintegration isn’t an option.”

“I am more than happy to enlighten her. I know everything Sunset does about magic, after all." Sunspot leaned as close as she could to Midnight. "And I’m eager to share.”

Midnight's eyes lit up with more than just burning mana. She practically dove through the barrier, cuffs dissolving when she crossed the threshold, and tackled Sunspot to the floor.

And then...

“Um,” Twilight observed.

“Huh,” Sunset agreed.

“Yeah,” they concluded together, before carefully turning away.

“So," Sunset summarized. "That happened.”

“That is continuing to happen." Twilight winced and raised her voice. "Quite enthusiastically." She cleared her throat and frowned at Sunset. "You could have told me you still dream of your demon.”

Sunset shrugged. "It's not an issue."

"Really."

“All due respect, Twilight, but I gave you a light spray of harmony magic. The princess hit me hard enough that it left a ten-foot-deep crater in CHS’s front lawn. Sunspot has a life sentence." Sunset blinked. "Ooh, saying it out loud, that is catchy.”

“I still don’t appreciate the hypocrisy,” Twilight said, crossing her arms.

Sunset dipped her head. “Yeah, fair. Tell you what. I’ll tell you about these dreams if you tell me. Deal?” She held out her hand.

Twilight looked back and forth between the offered hand and Sunset's face, with the occasional glance back at the cell. “When you say ‘these dreams’…”

After a moment, Sunset's eyebrows rose. “Are you also having... those dreams on a frequent basis?”

“I…" Twilight's gaze darted about the hallway. "Well, I don’t exactly keep a dream journal. Certainly not twenty volumes of one since I was twelve.”

Sunset knew better than to press her on the matter. Especially when there were other concerns to address. “What about Timber?”

“Timber is…” A brown phantom flickered into being at Twilight's side, a vague parody of an idealized male form. She considered it for a moment before it vanished like a lost video signal. “He’s safe. A practice run, before I put myself out there in earnest. I told him as much, and..." She took a deep breath. "Well, he wasn't thrilled, but he understands. Says he's going to try to do the same.”

“Oh. Well, uh, good for him.” Sunset coughed into a fist, glanced back at the cell, and chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “You know, they don’t always have the wrong idea. Just putting that out there.” Slowly, tentatively, she moved her unshaken hand into Twilight's.

To her inexpressible joy, Twilight took hold of it and squeezed back. "It has been known to happen."

"We should leave them to it."

"Let's."

They walked along the corridor, which gave way to sun and surf in the sudden yet unquestionable way of dreams.

“Were you always in a bikini?" Of course, with Twilight Sparkle, "unquestionable" was relative. She tugged at her own outfit with her free hand. "Was I?”

Sunset looked up at a V formation of pegasi pushing clouds to make the day that much prettier... along with one living piece of candy she recognized from Pinkie's mind. “I’m pretty sure I’m losing lucidity.”

Twilight leaned against her. At some point, they'd sat on a loveseat version of a beach chair. “I can think of worse places to do it.”

“Same,” Sunset said with a smile. She turned to kiss Twilight, a dream she looked forward to making a reality.

Luna looked upon her slumbering charges. Those who didn't know high schoolers might have called the scene before her the sleep of the innocent. She was willing to grant it "sleep of the content." As she swept her gaze across the bus, noting cuddling couples for future gossip sessions with Cadence, she shared in that contentment.

"What are you doing?"

Up until her sister ruined it, anyway.

Luna sighed, turned around, and slipped off her knees to sit properly. "I am making sure the events of the last few days didn't leave any fresh mental scars on the student body," she told Celestia.

"That explains the first few seconds." Celestia quirked an eyebrow. "What about the following five minutes?"

"A glance wouldn't suffice," Luna said without rancor. "As I know from experience, dreams can shift from pleasant to traumatic without warning."

Celestia looked away, the old memories no doubt leaving a bad taste in her mouth as much as Luna's. "Still," she said in time, "I thought you'd grown out of watching people sleep like that."

"I certainly haven't had as many opportunities as when we were girls." Luna smirked. "Of course, we no longer share a bathroom, and I think we can both call that an improvement."

That got a soft laugh before Celestia looked up at the bus's ceiling, wonder clear in her eyes. "It is incredible that Dr. Tenderheart hasn't been swamped with appointments this year. I was worried we'd have to hire more guidance counselors."

Luna nodded. "Indeed. I cannot say for certain how much of their resilience is the adaptability of youth and how much they have developed since the Fall Formal. Given how I actually saw more restless sleep on the way here than now, it is possible that our resident magical girls have a therapeutic effect on bystanders when they 'unleash the rainbow.'"

"Magical girls?" said Celestia, lips quivering as she struggled to hold in a louder chortle. "Really?"

"They have come into the possession of potent artifacts that grant them elaborate costumes that would cost thousands to replicate." Luna grinned. "If they weren't magical girls before, they certainly are now."

Celestia sighed. "I suppose I should be thankful that they're not fighting a monster every week. We get more than enough of them as it is."

“Yes," said Luna, deciding not to mention the sight of Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle nestled next to each other, wrapped in two sets of dark and terrible wings. Not to Celestia, anyway. "More than enough.”