This Art Has Been In My Family For Generations

Rarity closed the door to the library behind her. “That was an interesting few days,” she commented.

“I know!” Twilight said. “I have so many new things about my friends to learn.”

As the purple unicorn went to set some tea, Rarity asked. “Actually, there is one pony we’ve never talked to.”

“Hm?”

“You, of course.”

The stove flame lit. “Huh, you’re right.”

Rarity shimmied over to the reading table and put her head on her hooves. “Well then? What’s your story?”

“I’m not sure how much mine count,” Twilight laughs awkwardly. “I had to steal Mom’s diary to get her to tell her what she was about.”

“Twilight!”

“She shouldn’t have tried to hide it in a bookshelf! Anyways. I don’t even really practice anyways.”

“You know you’re only making me curious.”

“Fine! Fine.” Twilight levitates the teapot over to the table. She wiggles her hoof. “How to explain. It’s a ... technique? That lets me affect a certain type of monster. It’s kinda useless for anything else.”

Rarity raises an eyebrow as she sips from her teacup. “So, it’s some sort of internal thing, dear?”

“I’m ... not sure you’ll see anything, if I can even do it right. It’s been years.” Twilight closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing.

After a few minutes, Rarity asks, “Is it—”

A subtle glow emanates around her, bathing the library floor in sourceless light. After a few seconds, the glow fades.

“... That’s it?”

Twilight opened her eyes. “Well it literally doesn’t do anything if there’s no vampires to use it on, so—” Twilight noticed Rarity’s eyes bulging out of her face. “Ah. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“Vampires!?” Rarity exclaimed, flailing her hooves in Twilight’s general direction.

“I didn’t want to bring it up because it’s not something to worry about,” Twilight protested. “The source was contained, and my mom retired not long after that. It’s fine!”

Rarity walked over to put her hooves over Twilight’s shoulders in order to look into her eyes. “I don’t want to deal with the possibility of having to encounter a vampire, dear!”

“And you won’t! It will never come up again,” Twilight reassured, holding her close.

A drawer yanked open, binders spilling all over the floor. Cheerilee held the scroll like a holy charm. “I have a pardon,” she called out. “And a doctor’s note.”

A purple vine slithered across the floorboards and delicately plunked the scroll out of Cheerilee’s hooves. The vine held it up to Twilight’s face. “So it is. How’d you manage that?”

“I found a doctor willing to get me an implant,” Cheeriliee said, panting slightly.

“... I see,” Twilight said. The scroll was levitated back into Cheerilee’s hooves, who sighed with relief. “I apologize for the intrusion. I hope you understand my concern?”

“Yeah...” Cheerilee said, clutching her neck. “I know.”

“You promise?” Rarity asked, eyes glistening.

“I promise.”

“Hey Spike!”

The dragon, lounging in his basket, looked up from his comic book. “Huh?”

“Rarity wanted to know your unique skill.”

“Uh.” Spike looked around. He dropped his comic book onto the floor. Carefully, deliberately, he pinched the pages with his finger and thumb, and picked it up. “Ooooo.”

Hours later, as the sun started going down, Spike squinted at the lengthening shadows. He spat an orb of green fire, which bounced once, twice, then leapt into the air, unfurling its wings. The green phoenix flapped over to Spike’s shoulder, casting his room in a soft light. Spike settled back into his basket, patting the bird on its foot. “Thanks, Magician Green, needed that.”