Trixie's Adventures Under Ground

Trixie cantered down a dark hallway with a scowl on her face. It was lined with doors of every colour on every side, even the floor and the ceiling. The door she’d entered through had emerged above a chandelier, which had snagged her magician’s hat as she crashed off its brass frame to the ground below. A lavender-coloured rabbit had been perched on the chandelier and snapped up the hat before Trixie could manage a levitation spell to retrieve it. It leapt off the chandelier and through a low passage by the floor, far too narrow for Trixie to follow. No sooner had Trixie knelt to look into the tunnel had the rabbit again emerged from a door behind her, running horizontally along the wall and immediately disappearing deeper into the labyrinth of gates and shutters.

It was quite the curious place, this little realm she’d found herself in. Every creature Trixie stumbled across seemed to cross her in one way or another, by either the obtuse antagonism of the fillies or the quite straightforward antagonism of the rabbit. Without her hat to warm her head, Trixie found herself feeling quite anaemic.

What was a showmare to do, she wondered. Not even the crowds in Baltimare had been this unwelcoming to her unsolicited performances. Not at first, at least. Some sparks in the wrong pony’s eyes, some swords in the wrong pony’s mouth, and some fireworks in the wrong pony’s munitions plant had worn out Trixie’s welcome in short order. In that case, though, Trixie counselled herself, she could hardly be blamed for overlooking the subtler aspects of local culture. She knew she had an excess of savoir-vivre; it was the city’s fault for not putting up any signs.

At any rate, finding her hat became Trixie’s priority, and she’d followed the rabbit’s path out of one door and into another as it scampered down the hall. Eventually, she lost sight of it and resolved to simply trot until she reached whatever lay at the end of the hall. That way, she could save her energy to properly skin the lavender rabbit when she finally got her hooves on the wretched little vermin.

However, the hallway showed no sign of ending, and the clopping of Trixie’s hooves was starting to grate on her ears. She was nearly ready to give up on her hat, bespoke though it was, and jump through the nearest door, when she heard a rustle above and behind her.

Trixie turned to find an open door in the ceiling, out of which were peering two golden eyes. Strangely, there was no pony’s face to hold them; each twirled around independently in space, unbidden by any master. The left one gyrated in a lazy circle; the right hung low to the ground, before shooting to the side; finally, both settled on Trixie with a quivering flourish. A voice broke the silence.

“хfttw@Ёif·fZ”

“Huh?” Trixie blurted involuntarily.

“жik@b·f@╦w╢@╚bvfo@@сfЁ@uf@iftxK”

Trixie rubbed her ears with a hoof.

“Pardon Trixie, but she can’t quite hear-”

Before she could finish, the yellow eyes swung down from the ceiling towards her. Trixie jumped back in alarm as they halted abruptly four feet above the ground, accompanied by a loud splat against the hard floor.

The eyes leaned in close to Trixie’s face, crossing over each other until the left fixated on Trixie’s right eye and the right on Trixie’s left. There was something in the way that the colours seemed to swirl in place, gently stirred by the haphazard rolling of the eyes, that mesmerised Trixie. Trixie was falling further, deeper into those rich amber pools of sweetest honey.

The space in front of her radiated cold; an otherworldly presence surrounded her with invisible tendrils. They surrounded Trixie, reaching through her ears to probe and prod her brain. The eyes narrowed, reduced to delicate slivers against the dark hallway. Trixie felt something wet, something soft and entrancing press against her lips. She never blinked.

A grey pegasus mare was kissing Trixie deeply, with lots of tongue.

Trixie simply stared at the sight before her in shock. In her flaxen mane, the pegasus wore a novelty cat-eared headband. Around her neck was a thick, metal collar from which hung a single steel chain link. Her tail was distinctly banded down from her dock, though closer inspection revealed this to be a rather slapdash paint job.

The cat-eared mare was still deeply engaged in the kiss and scarcely noticed Trixie’s scrutiny. Her eyelashes fluttered; she uttered a small moan and entwined her tongue more intimately with Trixie’s. Trixie quickly retreated again, and the grey mare crashed forward to the ground. A gossamer strand of their commingled saliva dangled from Trixie’s lip as she gazed down at the lithe form of the stranger’s body.

The pegasus shakily rose to her hooves and beamed at Trixie with a genial smile. Trixie did not reciprocate.

“There you go! Right as lightning, just like me!”

Trixie could hardly believe what she was hearing. Though she’d been frozen in shock since seeing the mysterious pair of eyes, the shame of the encounter began to sink into her brain. Trixie was disgusted; she knew that kisses were a form of greeting in some countries, but the practice offended her conservative Equestrian sensibilities. It was no wonder the ponies in regions like Prance were regarded as unhygienic; such sensual kissing was surely a remarkable vector for the spread of disease.

She continued staring at the pegasus mare as her astonishment morphed into repugnance. Her thoughts raced in a loop, gradually tightening into a central question.

The pegasus mare murmured to Trixie in the meanwhile, unrequited.

“Hey! Are you all right? You’ve got something on your lip there. Hello—oh. Hmm, I wonder if she hasn’t had enough. She might still have a few marbles up there… what did that book say to do, again?”

“Your name.”

“Oh! You’re OK!”

“You kis–, violated Trixie without her permission. The least you could offer is your name.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re all the way here! You know, we’ve hardly got anypony new around here since–”

“Trixie demands you tell her what’s going on! Speak one more ridiculous non sequitur and the great and very powerful Trixie Lulamoon will seal your mouth for good! That’ll teach you to go making sloppy with strangers!”

The blonde mare shrunk sheepishly at this remark. Her head lowered to chest level and her eyes became glued to the floor. The cat ears on her headband slumped over in shame, though interestingly, her pony ears did not.

“I, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong? I tried to do it just like-”

“Do something wrong!? How dare you make a fool of the great and powerful Trixie this way! Tell me who you are, this instant!”

The mare with the striped tail, who was running out of distinct traits by which to identify her, brightened somewhat. She donned a strained smile and raised her eyes to meet Trixie’s, though she kept her head lowered.

“I’m the Cheshire Mare! My role is to welcome all the newcomers to Wonderland!”

“Wonderland?”

“That’s where we are! A garden, an escapist paradise for little fillies! Longer than it is wide, curved around and wrapped up in knots. A place where dreams come to drink themselves sick, and where true love is always right behind your eyes!”

She muttered softly, almost out of Trixie’s hearing: “Yes, I remembered it all!”

Trixie shuffled her hooves apprehensively at this strange explanation.

“Is this … Wonderland … supposed to be filled with so many crazy ponies?”

“Oh yes, it wouldn’t be Wonderland if it weren’t so. At least, that’s what she told me…”

“Trixie can hardly believe that.”

“It’s true! All who come here are blessed, in some way or another. ‘Touched in the head’ is how some put it. Here, the mad are all quite ordinary and what’s ordinary is all very mad.”

The blond mare’s eyes had swung out in opposite directions by this point, facing the walls at either side.

“I’ll have you know Trixie is a very extraordinary pony, thank you. And entirely well in the head, at that!” Trixie retorted.

“Are you sure?” The Cheshire Mare cocked her head to the side with a blank expression, as if humouring a small foal who was trying to explain why a diet of cupcakes and cola was perfectly healthy.

“Trixie is always sure! She’s the sanest pony around, not that her talents are always appreciated by certain ponies…”

A wink of starlight glimmered in Trixie’s mind, and she rolled her eyes reproachfully.

The Mare responded, “But the sane ponies go mad especially quickly, and the ones who go sane are brought back sooner or later, anyway. Even I’m not the most regular pony around.”

Trixie mumbled, “Trixie can see that.”

The Cheshire Mare had recovered from her earlier embarrassment and stared amicably at Trixie. Her glowing cheeks carried no trace of the passion which had flushed them earlier, and her supple lips danced over one another in a radiant smile. Trixie found it quite irritating.

“Aren’t you going to say anything else? Ask me where I’m going?”

“Oh! Right! Where do you want to go? Visitors usually like to visit the Pond of Jammy Tears, right down that way!”

She pointed further down the hallway, opposite the direction from which Trixie had come. Trixie shuddered slightly.

“No, thank you! Trixie has had enough jam to last a lifetime. Even if it were all she had to live on, she wouldn’t keep a jar of the stuff in her wagon.”

“You’ve already been? That’s funny, I didn’t see you come in.”

“What? That is where Trixie came in. How in Equestria do you expect ponies to find their way around if their first greeting is a deluge of jam?”

“Um, I don’t know, I guess. And anyway, that’s not the normal entrance. Most ponies come in through here.”

Without the Cheshire Mare moving a muscle, a door on the ceiling behind her swung down into the hall. A large pile of sticks and dry leaves fell through the door frame unceremoniously. They were immediately followed by a large unicorn stallion, clad mane to tail in shining armour, who collapsed on the heap with a clatter. His face was hidden by a visor through which heavy, coarse breathing could be heard.

Trixie was getting accustomed to these kinds of bizarre events, so she only started back slightly while raising a hoof in mild alarm. This new pony was likely to be just as insane as the others she’d met, but she was getting along well enough so far. What was the worst that the stallion could throw at her?

“FLURRRRRRRRYYYYYY!” the armoured pony bellowed.

Perhaps Trixie had been too hasty to assume the stallion would be as crazy as any of the others. The other denizens of Wonderland she’d come across had at least retained some semblance of manners. If this pony were in the audience of one of her shows, she’d have no qualms teleporting him away immediately. The Cheshire Mare, on the other hoof, simply turned around and met him with a cordial smile.

“Hello there! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

Her cat ears perked up, and she raised her tail in careless, welcoming pleasure. From where Trixie stood, it was a severely revealing gesture.

“Huh? I’m going to Flurry. Where is she?”

His voice now emerged hoarse and low, as though he’d run a marathon screaming all the while. That was slightly too troubling for Trixie to believe; nonetheless, he panted dryly atop the mound of detritus.

“Flurry? That little filly came by this way earlier. I don’t know where she was going, though. You might find her if you go through here,”

A door opened to their left.

“– but you’ll get somewhere eventually no matter which way you go. It’s all wrapped up in loops anyhow.”

Her eyes spun against each other in their sockets, little topaz marbles that seemed ready to fall out of the mare’s head. The stallion leered in her direction from beneath his visor.

“Flurry…” the armoured pony mumbled.

“Flurryflurryflurryflurryflurry…”

He turned to depart through the door. His matted tail flicked some leaves in the air. A draught washed over Trixie, thick with the essence of long-dried fluids. Trixie allowed the odour to enter her snout and waft up toward her brain; the inside of that suit of armour must have been revolting.

“Wait!” Trixie interjected. “Before you go, would you mind telling Trixie your name?”

The stallion paused, a forehoof raised.

“My name? My name… I think it was …‘Glum’? Or ‘Carol’. Or ‘Cantersen’...”

He trailed off idly, but his demeanour had changed. He stood up straighter; the frantic tone in his voice was soothed. It was as though he’d gained a measure of lucidity at being forced to recognise his own identity. The Cheshire Mare sniggered softly; the barest hint of concern passed through her eyes.

At the chuckle, the stallion, whom Trixie elected to refer to thereon as “Glum”, folded his ears back sharply. He bounded forward through the door as though a spur had pierced through his armour plates. The door snapped shut the moment the last hair of his tail passed the threshold.

The departure of yet another unhelpful and inscrutable pony wore roughly on Trixie’s nerves. As she stood in that dark and endless tunnel of senseless doors, stinking of jam and the residual stench of the unicorn stallion, facing that dimwitted pegasus with her stupid cat ears, Trixie started to rant.

“Well that’s just perfect! A perfectly good outing, ruined by weird tunnels, and lakes of jam, and hat-stealing rabbits, and all the ponies in this Celestia-damned place are crazy!”

She didn’t have enough time to continue, however, before another door opened to her right. This was much to the relief of the Cheshire Mare, who didn’t usually have to deal with such mercurial visitors. She sighed in relief, and Trixie in exasperation, as a lavender unicorn emerged from the door frame.

This new pony was a unicorn mare, wearing a pair of lavender rabbit ears on her head. The band was shoved down to her horn, and the tips of the ears hung down nearly in front of her eyes. On the mare’s back, to Trixie’s token surprise, was her magician’s hat. The lavender mare levitated a silver pocket watch a foot before her face; she was totally fixated on it and hardly seemed to notice her company.

“TARDYYYYYYYYYY!” The lavender mare screeched, in a way reminiscent of the armoured stallion.

Trixie was beyond responding, and simply waited for the frenzied lavender unicorn to conclude her rambling.

“I’m tardy! For a meeting with the Princess! Oh, she’s going to be so angry with me! I’ve gotta hurry, hurry to meet the Princess!”

She made to dash off, at which point Trixie held out a hoof. She had a difficult time believing it rationally, but a sneaking suspicion pressed to the front of her mind.

“Halt! Are you the rabbit who stole my hat?”

The Cheshire Mare’s eyes became very cross.

“Ms. Lavender Rabbit, what did she say about doing things by the book?”

At the mention of the mysterious “she”, the Lavender Rabbit cringed. The word seemed to spread through space, passing through walls uninhibited. Faint presences seemed to congregate just behind every door, watching the play intently.

“Oh, hi Cheshire. I didn’t see you there…” the Rabbit’s voice faded to a guilty mumble.

“But you know we shouldn’t be talking about, well, you know.”

The implication was left hanging in the air. Trixie nearly reached out to bat it with a hoof, but stayed herself. The Cheshire Mare remained oblivious to any and all taboos.

“Are you going to give back, uh, Trixie-?”

Trixie nodded dispassionately, briefly meeting Cheshire’s eye.

“Trixie’s hat?”

The Cheshire Mare glared sternly at the Lavender Rabbit, who spread her hooves defiantly.

“Sorry, but the Princess asked me for a saddle! I absolutely need to bring her one, and the only pony around who was wearing one was this blue unicorn!”

She pointed a hoof accusatory at Trixie, who scoffed in indignation.

“Excuse me? That hat is just as much a part of Trixie’s person as the horn on her head. And it’s a performer’s hat, not a saddle. A showmare can’t show her face on stage without one.”

The Lavender Rabbit crumpled to her knees in a heap.

“Oh, I knew it was weird that you were wearing it on your head! None of my books said anything about head-saddles, but since you’re a foreigner, I just assumed-”

“Assumed what?” Trixie asked restrainedly.

“Nothing! It’s just that usually travellers in stories don’t seem to quite understand the customs of new lands, and you seem like you’ve travelled awfully far already. I mean, your hat smelled of jam, but you came from the opposite direction from the pond. The only rational explanation is that you’ve already walked around the entire world. It is, in fact, round, and has been known to be so since antiquity-”

The Rabbit continued to expound upon geometry, geography, geology, and all of the other G-related subjects which Trixie was already familiar with. On the other hoof, the Cheshire Mare seemed to have a difficult time understanding the impromptu lecture. Her tail curled up behind her in the likeness of a question mark.

Trixie actually found this somewhat impressive, and leaned around to stare at the mare’s flank. The Cheshire Mare followed Trixie’s gaze and blushed deeply, before turning to look at her own flank, as though she expected it to have changed from the last time she’d seen it. She reacted with surprise at the sight of her own tail arched in the air; the motion had apparently been unconscious. Her tail quickly dropped, pressed tightly against her rear. Trixie continued to ogle a little longer, ignoring both the mare’s bashful expression and the Lavender Rabbit’s spiel.

The Lavender Rabbit had produced a thick textbook from Trixie’s hat in the meantime and buried her muzzle in it. She was in the middle of detailing astronomical timekeeping methods and paid her audience no notice. Before Trixie realised she might have been acting slightly rude towards both other ponies, the Cheshire Mare made a hasty attempt to change the subject.

“Um, so anyway! Rabbit, if you’re looking for a saddle, why don’t you just go to the Saddler? She’s probably having tea with the March Mare.”

The Lavender Rabbit surfaced from her tome and tried in vain to meet the Cheshire Mare’s eyes as they circled around.

“Of course! You’re exactly right! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. She’s mad, but then all artists are, I suppose. She’s the only one around who knows how to wear a saddle properly, at least.”

At this, she shot Trixie a pointed glare. Trixie responded with one of her own.

“Right. I’ll be off, then. Can’t keep the Princess waiting any longer. I’m already tardy enough as it is.”

And quite hastily, a door on the left side of the hall opened. She leapt through the door, still carrying Trixie’s hat on her back. The echoes of irregular hoofbeats and wet slaps faded into the distance at a rapid pace. Trixie gaped in shock after the Rabbit. Then, her hooves were galvanised, and in a flash she was through the door as well.

The door slammed behind Trixie, almost catching her cloak in the doorjamb. The hall became immediately silent, and the Cheshire Mare was left alone with her thoughts.

It wouldn’t be long now, that was for certain. The actors had moved on; the stage was set to be cleared. The Cheshire Mare settled down to wait for the director, and napped for a while.