It was dawn in the magical land of Artquestria, and the mysterious power of Princess Sunflowers caused the lights to flicker on, shining their fluorescent glow across the small gallery.
Twilight Sparkly-Night woke with a yawn as night was replaced by day in an instant. It was another beautiful day, with a gentle breeze blowing from the air conditioners. She could scarcely believe it had only been three months since she had moved to this peaceful side-gallery from the hustle and bustle of The Camelot Room where she had grown up. Ever since she was a little pencil sketch she had felt out of place, awkward in that massive space in which hung paintings of all shapes and sizes. She had been alone and lost in the crowd.
Throughout her life she had been told there was something magical about her, but she never believed it. She was just a simple impressionist painting, showing the scene of a starry night in a swirl of purples, pinks and whites. She had never thought she was anything special: small, simply framed and unsigned.
But here, in this small gallery she was popular. Ever since her defeat of Nightmare Moondrian who had escaped from her one thousand year banishment to the attic and tried to turn off all the lights forever, Twilight had been a hero. But more than that, she had gained something precious - friendship.
"Hi Twilight!" Across from Twilight hung a bright pink expressionist painting of a pony, its hooves clasped to its mouth in an expression of pure joy. This was one of Twilight's best friends, The Giggle. Unlike Twilight, The Giggle was an explosion of colours, every possible shade of pink swirling round in oils, tempera and pastels, a smorgasbord of delight.
"Hi Giggle!" Twilight replied happily. "Lovely day! Up to much?"
"Oh, just hanging about!" chirped The Giggle. "I'm thinking of having a party later, you interested?"
"Sure..." Twilight wobbled back and forth to indicate a nod. The Giggle loved holding parties, but they were generally awkward affairs, since none of the paintings in the gallery could actually move in any significant way, let alone eat any of the nibbles that The Giggle somehow managed to conjure up.
"Aw Giggle, ah got no time for parties, can't you put it off, woodencube?" From somewhere below Twilight drawled a thick southern accident. Scrapplejack had woken up.
Twilight would never have even thought of associating with someone like Scrapplejack back home. Scrapplejack was coarse, down-to-earth, but had a heart of gold. Actually, her heart was stainless steel, but Twilight liked to think that it was gold. A farmer by trade, Scrapplejack stood tall and proud, cylindrical with a metal hat that covered her opening. This week she had been farming apple cores and coke cans.
"It's nearly harvest time!" Scrapplejack explained loudly to The Giggle, her hat swinging to indicate the pile of apple cores and coke cans that had been piled precariously on top of her in a wobbling tower, threatening to spill out onto the floor. "Any day now it's gotta be gathered in. Can you wait a few days for your party?"
"Aw you're no fun!" The Giggle whined back in a sing-song voice. "Twilight, you can still come to my party! You can even bring your new friend!"
"New friend?" Twilight creased her canvas slightly at this. It was only at this point that she realised that she was not alone; that where there had once been an expanse of wall next to her was now a vast sleek and modern painting. It dwarfed her magnificently, silver and blues and purples all expertly screen printed onto canvas in an array of stylish lines and blocks. Put simply, it was a masterpiece of modernism.
"Why hello Twilight Sparkly-Night" purred Trixie: Composition in Great & Powerful, No. 2. "Fancy seeing you here."
Twilight gasped. Out of all the paintings in all of Artquestria, she had never expected to see Trixie again. The super-modernist painting had arrived in the gallery a few weeks back, boasting of her powers and her ability to defeat Major Art Critics. Two of the more suggestible watercolours in the gallery had invited a Minor Art Critic and it was only through Twilight's quick thinking and magical powers that she was able to defeat the art critic and save everypainting from a negative review. Trixie had run away in shame, seemingly never to return. Yet here she was.
Trixie took in Twilight's shock with a smug, self-assured satisfaction. "Oh, don't worry Twilight. I don't hold a grudge. Besides, I know I was framed."
Twilight rocked from side to side to show her distain for the big-canvassed painting. She was still making excuses even after all this time. "Good" she replied coldly.
The two hung awkwardly side by side for the rest of the day. Twilight tried to shut out the buzz of conversation as her friends chatted around her. Portrait of a Rarity wanted her to look at some new frame designs - she declined. Rainbow Dali asked her to judge a race between two dust motes that were slowly tumbling down the wall - she told her she was busy. In fact, all Twilight could think about was Trixie as she hung silently on the wall next to her, looming over her impassively. Why was she here? Was it some sort of revenge?
As the lights clicked off and night fell, Twilight's thoughts were answered.
"I came back for you, my lovely Twilight" Trixie whispered softly into Twilight's side. Twilight stiffened slightly in shock - she had expected spite, swearing, bile, anything but this!
"W-What?" Twilight mustered up her courage to reply, but only a squeak came out.
Trixie continued, her voice low and sultry. "Ever since what happened, I couldn't get you out of my mind. Your perfect oily mix, the warmth of your colours, your beautiful right angles!"
Twilight blushed as red as it was possible for a painting to blush as she felt her little heart flutter. "Trixie... really?" This was like all the romance leaflets she had read. She had always dreamed of being swept off her hook by a strong, powerful painting, and here she was!
Trixie started to sway from side to side, and Twilight took the hint. She started to sway too, and soon their frames kissed, touching and rubbing each other as they met in that brief instant when their swings let them meet.
"Oh Twilight!" cried Trixie. "I never realised you were so well hung!"
"Oh Trixie!" cried Twilight, as the banging of their frames got louder. She no longer cared about whether anyone else heard; all she wanted now was Trixie.
"Hey Twilight, what's... oh!" Twilight's little hook had woken from his slumber, and was now a witness to the tawdry goings-on.
"Spike!" Twilight hissed angrily to the little brass hook. "Go back to sleep."
Spike grumbled and the two paintings continued their passionate noisemaking. "Twilight!" Trixie cried. "I want you now! I want your canvas next to mine; I want to feel our pigments mingle! Mount me!"
"Yes!" cried Twilight as she launched herself off the wall, tumbling towards the floor with wild abandon. "Take me! Take me now!"
Twilight lay sprawled on the floor expectantly. But Trixie did not join her.
Instead, the painting simply stayed on the wall and sneered "Hah! I'm no canvas cuddler! Gotcha, loser!"
Twilight stared upwards in confusion, until with mounting horror, she realised exactly what Trixie's plan had been. On her tumble down from the wall, she had knocked into the pile of coke cans and apple cores that were carefully balanced upon Scrapplejack - the same pile of coke cans and applecores that were even now rocking and spilling off Scrapplejack's top and falling towards Twilight's prone and helpless frame.
As the refuse fell and Trixie laughed, Twilight only had one thought. "Oh, Pollocks!"
