December 971 – December 972
From: The University of Hoofington, Magic Department
To: Twilight Velvet; 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot
Prof. Blazer, Ph.D., D.Mg, M.Mg,
December 22nd, 971 ANM
Miss Twilight Velvet,
Your application for a position in the Magic Department at the University of Hoofington has been accepted. You will be expected at Hoofington University for a personal interview by myself at three o’clock on February 6th. If all goes well, you will be welcomed at Hoofington University on the 25th of February.
Signed, Professor Blue B. Blazer
P.S.
Congratulations. I am sure it will be a pleasure working with you.
B.B.B
Twenty-fourth of December, 971
Twi,
I’m sorry. You’re my best friend.
Don’t worry; you tried, but it’s not your fault that nothing can help me now. It’s mine, for letting myself get this far.
I love you.
Don’t look for the body.
Comet
From: Twilight Velvet; 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot
To: Violet Velvet; Cherry Hill Ranch, Dodge Junction
December 25th
Vi,
The world hates me, doesn’t it? Celestia or Luna or whoever’s up there in the sky making stuff happen has a personal grudge against me. That, or they’re just a sadistic god who likes ruining dreams screwing with ponies destroying lives.
And now I feel like shit. Because some ponies have it so bad, right? But I’m not thinking about them, or anypony else but me, because it freaking hurts.
“It’s not your fault. You tried.” Well, where in Tartarus does that put me, now? Can you answer me, Vi? You won’t get this letter for ages, but no one cares, Celestia doesn’t care, the universe doesn’t care, and for all I know I don’t care anymore. Maybe I never did.
Comet Tail’s dead, I don’t understand it, what was wrong with left me a note and offed himself. I should have told you that at the start, now you have to reread the whole thing. Boohoo to you.
I just realised, it’s Hearth’s Warming. I was at the pageant last night. That must have been when he left the note
And I got into Hoofington. Oh, wonderful sunrays of the Benevolent Universe, how I revel in your glory which you have so kindly bestowed upon me!
Seeya on the other side.
– Twilight
December 26th
Miss Cherry Jamboree,
I’m sorry to leave on such short notice, but there is a family emergency and I am leaving to Canterlot immediately. Enclosed is enough money to pay for keeping my things here for two weeks in place of the work I would have done, as I have no time to bring anything but essentials with me. I apologise if my absence affects work in the orchard.
– Violet Velvet
From: Twilight Velvet; 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot
To:
From: Canterlot University, Department of Magics
To: Miss Twilight Velvet; 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot
Prof. Doddering, B.A, Ph.D, D.Mg
January 21st, 972 ANM
Twilight Velvet,
On September 17th, 971 ANM [After Nightmare Moon] your application for a position in the University of Canterlot’s Department of Magics Experimental and Theoretical was sent through the Flying Postal Services of Equestria [F.P.S.E] from your residence at 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot.
Due to an unfortunate mishap caused by a member of the postal services staff, your letter was mishandled and ultimately was not delivered to the University of Canterlot until January 18th, 972 ANM.
The unfortunate implication of the mishap is that the university received the application after the deadline for entrants had ended, and another chosen to fill the position. As such, we regret to inform you that you have not been accepted into the university faculty this year.
If there is a position next year, feel free to apply again.
Signed, Agnes P. Doddering
On a personal note: for the sake of the university; its hard-working and high-ranking faculty; the social standing of the students; and the reputation of our institution, it would be best if this little mishap and consequence not be mentioned again.
Professor Doddering
From: Twilight Velvet; 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot
To: The University of Hoofington, Magic Department
January 22nd, 972 ANM
Professor Blazer,
I apologise for how long it has taken me to respond to your letter of confirmation. A very significant personal event occurred before I had time to accept the offer of a place at Hoofington, and I have recently been occupied with the results of that event. I hope this letter reaches you – I no longer have great faith in the postal system.
– Twilight Velvet
From: Twilight Velvet; 17c Ponet Lane, Canterlot
To: Violet Velvet; Cherry Hill Ranch, Dodge Junction
February 23rd, 972 ANM
Vi,
Sorry for not contacting you sooner. There has just been so much going on: finding a place in Hoofington, moving everything, and just tying up all the loose ends. And everything seems to take so much longer than it used to, as if every second I spend without him is lengthened infinitely.
I am really, truly sorry for everything you had to deal with in December. It was hard for both of us, but I can’t thank you enough for being there. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t arrived. Thank you. And again, one thousand times over, I’m sorry for the letter I sent you – or at least, some of the things I said. I don’t like to think about where I would be if I hadn’t written that letter.
I’m trying not to think about him too much. Not just because I’m emotionally fragile – I’m still pretty shattered, I know – but it makes me wonder about what he was thinking, and I start thinking about thought and free will and social pressures and I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never been comfortable with those sort of things; I’m a scientist, not a philosopher. If we switched places maybe you would be able to make some sense of what happened, or you would have some artistic way of thinking about it. I know that you cared for him too but at least you couldn’t have helped anyway.
I actually read something in an arts paper about your play. I have to admit; I never really understood it, even after you sent me a copy of the script. Anyway, the reviewer seemed sort of negative, but he said a few good things, and any criticism is good criticism, right? I’ll attach the article. (He did call you an amateur, and he had some pretty weird opinions on the setting, but you have to take what you can get, so don’t get too mad, Vi).
You remember when you came to Canterlot to see the play with mother and father, and Comet and I? I think he (Comet, that is) was really affected by it. Or, he at least understood it more than I did. He was always so sympathetic with Luna, and interested in her. Even after almost one thousand years there is so little compassion for her – an entire play with her as one of the protagonists isn’t exactly common. Now though, it seems like it was more than that. I was thinking over the play again, and I wonder – I’ve always done that, though – if Comet related to the play because he was going through something similar, mentally at least. It really disturbs me, how little I really seem to know about my former best friend.
Also, remember that letter I got when you were still hanging around, the one from Canterlot Uni? From old ‘Agonising’ Doddering? Well, after you left I checked at the post office, and it turns out that one of the post-ponies brought his sick filly in that day because he couldn’t find a babysitter, and she stumbled into a pile of letters. Long story short, my letter went under the table until a cleaner found it. The filly’s dad was really apologetic, but I told him not to worry, and that the letter was in no way important to me or anypony else. I felt so sorry for that filly: she was crying her eyes out about it, and she has some serious eye issues.
It’s funny, because that letter really has become inconsequential; the reason I wanted to get a job in Canterlot so badly was because of Comet Tail. I couldn’t imagine going to live and research in an entirely different city – and so far away – without him. I still can’t. I catch myself thinking about going over to his place, or sending him a letter, or what he would think of that obnoxious mare who just moved next door, or if I have enough time to visit him up at the observatory.
I spent enough time at Canterlot Uni for the rest of my life; I can't stand that Professor Doddering, and the putrid air she and all those stale old ponies call academia. They won’t change, not until the day they die. That mare taught me for five years, she saw me almost every weekday for five years, and she wrote to me as if I were a parasprite inconveniently disturbing her 'great work’. Some ponies.
So, Hoofington! I’m heading off tomorrow; I just have to get a few final things settled. All of my belongings are there already, so it’s sleeping on the floor with a blanket tonight for me! Comet Tail would have offered for me to spend the night at his place, or lent me a pillow or something. I’m really starting to realise how much time I spent with him, and how little I talked to anypony else, especially after you moved to Dodge and mum and dad started travelling.
They still keep looking for the body, even now. Everyone knows it was suicide; the police had an inquest and everything, and he left a note in his apartment where he admitted it straight out. His parents aren’t holding a funeral until they find the body, though. The thing is, he didn’t want the body to be found – he said as much in the note he left me – and he was smart enough to go someplace that nopony would ever find.
It just makes me feel so sad for him though. I may have been one of the only ponies he really talked to near the end, but I know that others loved him: from school, the university, the observatory. His sister, Crystal Clear, is heartbroken. I just want him to have some sort of memorial, even if his parents don’t approve.
The problem is, I was never close to the ponies he was close to, except you when you still lived in Canterlot. I don’t know how to approach any of them, and I’m going to be in Hoofington for so long. I’ll probably only get around to it by the anniversary.
And now I’m starting to cry. Great.
My new address is 3 Firefly Lane, so you can send me a letter straight away. You know, I think I became too dependent on you when you were here, and now I can’t stop 'talking' to you.
– Twilight
The Canterlot Arts
February 20th, 972 ANM
‘The Princess and I’
‘The Princess and I’, the brainchild of amateur playwright and director Violet Velvet, is ghostly and unorthodox, and an unsettling thought-provoker at times.
The story focues on Eo, a unicorn colt living in downtown Manehattan. The main focus of the performance is the time he spends dreaming, where he conducts conversations with a moon-bound Princess Luna. This reveals the colt’s loss of innocence in the harsh daytime world he inhabits, and the shocking desperation he faces for his future. The story has a provocative climax, which ultimately leaves each viewer to puzzle out what he believes to be Eo’s fate, and seek out their own reality in terms of the events of the play: is Luna only an apparition, product of a frightened and lonely foal’s imagination? Is Luna really the protagonist, and Eo only a product of her dreaming? Is Eo’s life in daytime Manehattan the real dream? What do the metaphors of the fox and the rose really mean? Does Eo really have a brother; is he imaginary, or dead? How will such a foal really age: as a broken idealist in an uncaring world, or force of great compassion?
Velvet has outdone herself in terms of concept and pacing, and the dialogue itself was inspired.
However, the delivery fell flat of the intent. The lengthy moral, ethical and philosophical arguments between the two leading ponies left much to be desired. A light touch for whimsy and fancy was needed on the part of Luna to match Eo, the lack of which is ultimately the downfall of a play whose plot depends so heavily on the interaction between the two protagonists. Aside from a few of the more poignant scenes) the actors were too heavy-hoofed with their deliverance.
With a greater focus on enhancing the main cast, this could be a truly successful show. For now it rests its laurels as a mediocre conversation piece.
– Harold Hooves
From: Ms. Crystal Clear; 301 Mane Road, Canterlot
To: Nightlight; Baltimare Pier Post Office, box 12
February 27th
Nightlight,
I do not know when you will receive this letter. For all I am aware, when you do finally return to Equestria I will be waiting at the Baltimare pier to welcome you, and you will not even need to read this. However, I cannot plan ahead very well at this point, and you would agree that it is prudent of me to have a back-up plan, though it pains me to know you will learn of what has happened in this manner with no one nearby to comfort you.
I have decided to send this to your PO box instead of sending it directly to you, as I received your last letter over four months ago, and I cannot risk that you have moved on since then. Even if I decided to send another letter to your last location, I hope you will forgive me for confessing that I would regret taking you from the work that you so love, as I am undoubtedly sure that you would return to Equestria simply to comfort the family.
If I have not already met and told you, read further. Otherwise, you will know what comes next.
My dear brother Comet Tail has died. He took his life on Hearth’s Warming Eve, and – although no body has been recovered – admitted to suicide in a note left at his apartment, after sending personal farewell notes to myself and a friend.
Mother and father are wrapped up in themselves and their own little reality, refusing to believe in Comet’s death, and the rest of the family is either in shock or indifferent – nobody seems to be considering you, whom Comet long considered his greatest friend.
When you finally return to Equestria and read this letter, please contact me. My letter writing may seem unaffected but I assure you I am anything but that, and you were always so kind to Comet and me.
Love always,
Your affectionate cousin,
Crystal Clear
To: Twilight Velvet; 3 Firefly Lane, Hoofington
From: Violet Velvet; Cherry Hill Ranch, Dodge Junction
February 28th, 972 ANM
Twi,
It is such a relief to hear from you. The moment I boarded the train I had an instant panic-attack, and, if not for being tripped up by a most fortunately placed bag – for twas Lady Fortune, please, that placed it – which restored me to my wits [my wits to me? restored me my wits?], I probably would have disembarked immediately. Whenever you crossed my mind [too impersonal, distant?] I was gripped with agonies. At first I was so distracted by thoughts of you from my artistry that I actually filled my cherry quota! The genius flourishes in the most base of circumstances though (is that why I moved here? remind me), and my suffering on your behalf (and your experiences, if you bear no bad will towards it) has inspired me! I throw aside the shackles of my former blighted aspirations; I embrace the new and comely, which has exposed itself to me; I find the path and bring to it [bring it to?] the sharp pain of life!
I write this correspondence during a dip in the creative temper, so that I may not (beg pardon) waste what little talent this humble artist possesses on a letter read once and abandoned as a treasured keepsake. I apologise sister, but though the public in itself sees and hears less than the one solitary pony, their need of stimulation is greater.
My dear benefactress, the lovely matron of the southern climes, and hostess of my mind’s sanctuary, Cherry Jamboree, is well. Because of my prolonged absence during December, and Jamboree’s gravid state, the ranch was down to Jamboree’s brother and three other boarders at the inn during the harvest. The ranch does not have enough bits to hire help, but I am told the harvest was poor this year. Now we spend our days assorting the different cherries. It is mind-numbing work, sister (though I admit, as the token unicorn I had an easier time of it), yet I feel I toil away for a great cause. As I am now, using so little of my mental faculties as are required for correspondence, I can feel the magic hurtling through my mind, making pathways and roads for my subconscious to work with.
I now perchance to gaze upon the window: the rugged and soft landscape, heaving in waves of sultry heat, stares at me from my perch in the barn, it calls, it beckons, leading me hither with a pointed hoof, neighing, “here, here is cherry of the land, the ripe fruit of the mind’s eye – take it!” and I cannot refuse, it draws me nearer to the core, the pip, the undiluted concentration, the greatest of Terra’s achievements lying beside, intertwined and one with ponykind.
Can’t write any further. In the grip of an epiphanic revelation.
–Vi
To: Violet Velvet; Cherry Hill Ranch, Dodge Junction
From: Twilight Velvet; 3 Firefly Lane, Hoofington
March 3rd, 972 ANM
Vi,
Wow, I forgot how overly dramatic unusual your letters were. Then again, I sometimes get the same feeling speaking with you.
I would have liked to hear a bit more about this Jamboree character. You’ve spoken so little about her, and I’ve never even met her. The only real interaction we’ve had is that box of cherry blossoms she sent us back in January, and you didn’t even let me read the note! Anyway, I know you lean towards the abstract, but if you could spend some of the time you spend with quill to paper filling me in on the practicalities, we will both learn a bit more.
Dear Celestia, it feels strange calling someone else ‘abstract’! I’m the theoretical magician, aren’t I? The few times I spoke to acquaintances about my work ended with a lot of baffled faces. Even Comet Tail joked about it. Yet, there you are writing about the pointing hoof of the land, and I have to rethink everything
I suppose, now having told you to fill me in on the practicalities of Dodge and the ranch, I have to do the same for you. Whoopee.
Don’t get the wrong idea. Hoofington is beautiful and quaint, the gardens are beautiful, the architecture is astounding in a way that Canterlot doesn’t understand, the university is filled with beautiful minds – but I am completely alone. I know nopony, and my attempts at friendship fail completely, to say the least. I know that that isn’t the point of wo
