I Am Not Spartacus - Where're We? You're the Navigator!
by Dan's Comments
Based in the 'Your Human and You' universe by MadMaxtheBlack
This story is NOT canon with Your Human and You

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

The far tower in the cluster that is Canterlot Castle emits a tremendous flash of light, and a huge amount of smoke. But where's the earthshattering kaboom?

Cadence, Armor and the guards rush out, but order me and Parasol to remain behind. I have no desire to investigate the effects of a silent explosion that large.

BOOOOOOOOOM! It goes on for nearly two minutes.

Okay, time effects. I headed towards the book shelves and pulled out the book I'd been studying lately. The Everfree Forest seemed to be ideal for my eventual purpose. A place of terror, both geographically and psychologically. I could enter it, and would never need to come out. It would be large enough to prevent overflight by any spies, and its wild nature would prevent intrusion by ground forces. The delicious irony was the original home of the pony sisters was ensconced there, and abandoned for over a thousand years. That little piece of information also shed light on the Great White's psychosis. There were evidently two alicorns at one time. What the name and fate of the second one did not appear in the book, but I'm guessing that Nightmare Night and Nightmare Moon had something to do with it. In any case, the place was abandoned, not evacuated, the Great White picked up and left.

At the very least, it would provide a supply of dressed stone to create a secure dwelling. If I were insanely lucky, it might be well enough constructed to be useable as is. But I'm not counting on that. At least I have a goal. As much as I like Pink and the Great White, the idea that someone could casually decide to poison me and face no repercussions troubles me no end.

Octavia arrives for cello time before Pink and Armor return from the maker of weird explosions. I half expect them to return as infants for Parasol and me to look after, or ancient relics, for Parasol and me to look after.

The revelation from Octavia to Parasol makes me admit, I am getting somewhat tired of the constant games the nobles play with each other, and that no one seems to call them on it. Not the Great White, nor anyone down the food chain. Prime example, a few weeks ago, Octavia was a wild child who'd never amount to anything. When she arrives today, I discover she's been accepted by the Royal Chamber ensemble. That is literally like being one step from being kicked off your high school softball team, to being signed by the Yankees as a starter.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" the happy teenager shouts as she pronks around in circles. She pauses long enough to give me a hug. "Thanks Percy, I was ready to give up, then you showed me I could still create beauty."

I hug her back, but I have a special request that will more than make up for what I did for her. I've learned the young lady can transcribe anything she hears, first time, perfectly. That may be why her cutie mark is a treble clef, instead of the bass clef of the cello. I need that, there's a piece that I have been planning to play for the Great White, preferably after her sister arrives. A cellist as skilled as Octavia should be able to handle the bulk of the work, while I simulate the harp or piano accompaniment. It's from In the Beginning, Humans and the War. Despair and defiance rolled into one package. The Great White seems only able to display emotion when the cause is overwhelming. And that piece is one of the most overwhelming I know of. I'm guessing her sister is similarly constricted. But if everybody's crying, nobody is going to notice. And she can deny that she was affected personally, that she didn't want anyone, anypony, to feel they couldn't cry if the princess(es) didn't. Like I said, games.

Well, if them's the rules, I can play too.

I manage to make it through the piece by memory with a few rough patches and false starts. Octavia is shielded from the poignancy by her desperate efforts to record the piece as sheet music, but even she has sniffles. Poor Parasol looks like she wants to rush over and hug both of us.

Octavia plays the cello piece from what she's written, and I add in the accompaniment. It's start and stop again. This would be easier with a recording device that we could play back. The session is over before we're completely done. Octavia is visibly shaken by the music. She keeps looking at me worriedly. I reply with my usual, placid gaze. I think that unnerves the two ponies more, as they beginning to realize that I'm more like an iceberg, the serene surface, and a huge amount unsuspected below.

Octavia copies the music over, so each of us will have a copy, and takes her leave. Parasol retains a very calculating look.
------------------------------

It's not the day after tomorrow the Great White specified, but the red bird is sitting on the balcony outside with a couple of odd books. Pink and Armor have not returned and it's approaching dinner time. I can only suspect they are consoling their favorite filly, and are not coming back shortly. Or Pink is consoling, and Armor is filling out paperwork. I swear, if they made her fill out the paperwork, maybe she'd learn a little caution.

Once Philomena is inside, I realize the books she carries are catalogs. The bird flips one open to the pages on chalkboards. Specifically, a company that makes them in different colors. It, or is it she, stares at me as I digest the information.

I'm beginning to suspect that the Great White is well aware that sapience, even being a sophont does not require spoken language. Which opens up a host of questions about her acceptance of the human condition here. Both from her end, and about the humans.

I could turn and ask the bird. I'd also like to know why the bird seems to be drawing me into her schemes. Does she need arms and legs, or is a human up the societal ladder from a bird? Even Celestia's own pet? Or do the ponies do the same mental magic with Philomena that they do with me? That her clear signs of intelligence are ignored and she's 'just an animal'?

As a test, I point to the quoted price. The bird cocks her head and stares at me, then sighs. Okay, frustration but at not having the bits, or that I'd assume she would have brought it up without them. I get a sheet of paper and request a quote from the company for several of the largest boards, in a few shades of dark blue, and a couple smaller ones in all the colors of the rainbow.

Philomena keeps watch so Parasol or someone else doesn't discover our activity. The bird included an envelope, so I address it to the company, with the return address as the address from the catalog. Evidently the Great White is not using the palace as her mail drop for this enterprise and Philomena means to use that ruse to cover our activities. Clearly there are subtleties I don't get. One is how to get the parcels to the suite. I draw a quick cartoon of the chalkboards at a mailbox, and an arrow to the door of the suite. It's a very noticeable door, so that part is easy.

Philomena puts me on guard while she scorches her answer in the paper. When I return, a stick figure, presumably me, carries a letter with a crown on it to the mailbox, and then carries the chalkboards to the suite, along with the letter. Once she's satisfied I understand, Philomena eats the page, erasing all evidence of our 'plan'. I shake her wing and she departs with the letter and the catalogs.

So she needs my arms and legs, and she needs my penmanship. Not the greatest basis for a friendship, but enough for the moment.

When dinner passes, and neither Pink nor Armor return, I decide to go to the suite early, in hopes of helping the Great White with the decorating.

I'll admit it, I'm growing rather fond of the Great White, despite the treatment of the humans in general by ponies, she's always been very kind to me. Even when I was trying to beat her head in. That, and despite all the 'love and tolerance', 'friendship is magic' and so on, I'm lonely, and sense that so is she. Neither of us can do as we wish due to the consequences of others' opinions. Odd that a slave and a queen would have such a burden in common.

What I see as I quietly enter is a little shocking. The Great White, I'm guessing by the hair, wings, tail and horn, has transformed herself into a human woman. What's also striking is she seems to be dancing with her hair in her arms as a surrogate for something else. I wonder who that is supposed to be? The look of joy on her face gives the entire scene a charm that's hard to fathom or describe. The human form she's taken is unusual, but her grace and confidence carry it past pretty into beautiful. She hums happily as she circles and turns, cuddling the stand-in and occasionally leaping into the air on enthusiasm and wing power, to touch down and continue her circling dance.

I feel like I'm intruding, but I also feel someone needs to witness this. That her Serene Highness needs to know of at least one person who can let her experience unfettered joy and play, and not think less of her. Someone who won't accuse her of damaging the serious business of being The Princess. In fact, I've seen this in a dozen more modern plays, the girl who was always the knock-around friend of the hero, or was the hero herself, suddenly starts having new and uncomfortable feelings for her buddy. So an older and wiser character puts her in an outfit, feminine to downright slinky, and well-done make up, and the tomboyish girl 'realizes' she is a girl and what she wants is romance, with the young man she already trusts with her deepest secrets and her safety. The better ones let her keep being a tomboy as well as a lady, but I think Princess Celestia's story made her give it up.

She freezes as she realizes I'm watching. She lands and very self-consciously shoves her hair behind her. While her tanned skin is darker than her usual alabaster, it darkens further as she watches me approach. She's naked, and I don't just mean she isn't wearing clothes, which she isn't, but I saw a few moments of her innermost self. Unfiltered and without artifice, and she knows the kind of power that gives me and how I could hurt her with it.

That alone makes me furious. Not with the Great White, but that this beautiful, kind young woman, and I don't care if she's a 1000+ years old, emotionally she's mid-twenties tops, has to hide in a room, and steal time with someone else's slave, just to have the physical intimacy and play she craves. I'm officially calling bullshit on the whole 'love and tolerance' 'ponies are the loving ones' line. That this society would do this to animalistic humans, pets, is bad enough. That they do it to their ruler is pure malignity.

I don't show any of this on my face, the power the Great White has accidently given me over her should be used wisely. So an 'animal' shows her the kindness the noble ponies of Canterlot never would. I approach, slowly, step by step trying to duplicate her dance steps. Showing not just acceptance, but asking for inclusion. When I'm a few feet away from her I stop, bow like the court does, and extend my arms, as if asking to dance.

She has tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth that had tried to hide her dread, now equally fail to hide her smile. "I should be very cross with you," she says very softly, "I wanted to practice and surprise you tomorrow."

She gathers me in. She's a head taller than me, something else I'd noticed when she made me an alicorn. If her only hangup is being the tallest person in the room, I can live with that. So my face is going where you'd expect it too. When I try to keep my distance, I'm gently but firmly pressed against her. The urge to motorboat appears and dies in a hail of common sense. Maybe later, but not now. I note the scent of jasmine, rose and hyacinth, with a lingering scent of sandalwood and her own natural perfumes. Like Equestria, it's a forest as a garden. Pleasant and inviting.

Her arms and mane wrap themselves around me as she begins, step-by-step of the dance. She leads, and is soon humming her happy tune again. I let myself be carried along, only disturbed by the occasional tear dripping from her chin.

When we leap into the air, her legs and tail wrap around me, holding me tight against her. My own grip on her shoulders and waist also tightens and she laughs just loud enough that I can hear from my vantage of her chest. The landings are so soft my only clue is her setting me back on the floor to continue the dance steps. We while away a pleasant idyll that way.

Finally she stops and steps away, her hands resting on my shoulders. She grins, but the grin freezes.

"Don't you like this body?" she asks, her eyes darting side to side, glancing at herself as she does, searching for some imperfections.

Frankly, she's not in supermodel territory, she looks like a well-done cross of Jessica Rabbit and football running back. What everybody forgets is Jessica was quite large up top, I mean above those, she had broader shoulders than Bob Hoskins. Broad shoulders, equally broad hips, trim but not tiny waist, full breasts, yet graceful as a dancer and powerful enough to break someone in half. While her pony form is supermodelish to ponies, her human form is clearly Amazonian. I brush her hair aside and get up on my tip toes to kiss her on the lips. 'Do you want this body?', you bet your firm and soft bippy I do, but that's not the price to be my friend.

As I step back, I point from me to her, and mime a snarling animal. Then I point at her and mime cowering, and disguise my smile by pull the corners of my mouth back with my fingers. When I point from her to me, I go through several of the dance steps. I hope I am conveying my understanding that she wants to face a monster she'll be able to 'give in' to, while I prefer a more gentle seduction.

She gathers me in again and lowers her head, giving me little bites on the neck, as I've seen ponies do to each other. I answer with the same, running my fingers over her sides and back, noting where she squirms for later. She gets the message and begins the same exploration, stroking my back and sides with her hands and mane, while her tail strokes my legs.

"I'm an idiot, you tell me and I don't listen," she comments and her mane slips behind me and picks us up, her straddling my thighs. It's like lying on a tightly-stretched, silk sheet, suspended a short ways off the ground. She lifts my kilt and presses lightly against me. As she grins a predatory grin, I learn that all her hair is as mobile and prehensile as her mane and tail. She giggles at my stunned reactions as she leans over me.

My hands come up to caress her breasts, pinch and rolls her nipples. All the while I watch her face for discomfort. She's enjoying the attention. She's enjoying freely giving and receiving the caresses kisses and love bites.

She shifts to settle herself down on me and begins bobbing up and down. I catch her as she speeds up, letting her move slowly, letting us find what feels best. She acts like something is going to rip her away any second and just wants it over with. She may have the stamina to start again immediately, but I doubt I will, so I get her to slow down, adjusting my hips until she gets the sensations she was after.

She rides up and down, slowly, her breast in my hands, her mane supporting my posture to conserve my strength. I think she realizes I want to go all night, but can't if she wants to go like a house afire. Then she stops. Her expression frozen as if she'd recalled a painful memory. When she opens her eyes, she's all smiles, and bounces up and down much more quickly, and stops, closes her eyes and muses.

She does that over and over, and begins to blush as she `muses`. It takes me a little while to guess what's happening, and it takes some effort not to grin. She seems to be growing tired and we settle back to the floor. She raises off of me and lays down beside me. She begins quietly weeping as she gathers me tight against her. I hold her and wonder what memories or thoughts trouble her.

"Please stay, I just need a nap," she tells me and her magic adds a quilt to her arms, legs and hair wrapped around both of us. I move her head to pillow on my shoulder as she dozes. In her sleep, her troubled expression relaxes and she appears the ingenue, not the trickster or the calculating leader, but the wide-eyed idealist believing in everything and too innocent for the tasks before her.

She wakes and kisses me. Her horn glows for a moment and in the background I hear the tub running. She snuggles against me, giving me little kisses. I have something different in mind. I flip her on her stomach and tie her hands behind her back with her mane, and then bend her legs to tie her ankles with her tail.

When I sit her up, she's staring at me as if I've lost my mind. I am fully aware that tying her up that way is like trying to handcuff the Hulk with a couple of post-it notes, but that's the point. How am I going to explain or use the idea of a 'safe word' without speaking?

I bare all my teeth at her and hiss. She whimpers, then giggles. I grab her by the throat and hiss at her again.

"Whimper, whimper," she tells me, while grinning from ear to ear.

Good enough. I sit on her thighs and push her shoulders down until her head touches the floor, hissing and biting the air the whole time. She's a little worried, but accepting. Then I run my teeth over her shoulders then her taut stomach, scraping them on her, and giving little bites. She making little noises as I go, slowly moving, then I get to her belly button. I'd already know where to put my hands as I place my mouth over it. I wait for her to gasp slightly, and I blow, while tickling her most sensitive spots.

There is an indescribable flurry of shrieks of outrage and hurried activity that ends with me with my back on the floor, wrist and ankles firmly tied with her mane and tail, her looming over me with the most rapacious look I've ever seen. Or maybe it's rape-acious. No, you can't take what's given eagerly. "You nut," she says, then she smiles. "I'm afraid I have to cut this short," she tells me as she carries me over her shoulder to the bath tub. She soaps me down and rinses me off outside the tub, and puts me in the water which is a trifle warm, but not painful. She lathers up and rinses herself off.

I lie in the warm water, enjoying watching her, feeling relaxed and almost empty. The Great White however, is still feeling frisky. Where she gets the energy I have no idea. It's a mix of tribute and scary that with me, a lot of the restraints come off and she can act like a teenager in love.

The idea that for all her size, reputed age, and wisdom that biologically she's not much more than a young adult is staggering, but it seems to be the truth. Or maybe it's the middle-aged rebellion against all the propriety forced on her over the centuries. That even seasoned adults like to play occasionally.

"You did so much, and you must be feeling very constrained," she says.

Frankly this isn't some tit for tat game. I enjoy the ability to play with an intelligent female. While humans are the right shape and can play as part of sex, most just aren't as creative as I like. And ponies, forget it. Pony-Pony sex is governed by the estrus cycle, mares in heat and stallions affected by the female's pheromones. Most Pony-Pony sex has all the tenderness, fellow feeling and romance that most humans would apply to plunging out a toilet.

She sits on the tub's edge letting me admire her. Her form of a human female is a nice touch, and that she's sensed and accommodated my reticence about cross-species mating. Although the Alicorn she turned me into I suspect was a mare's utter wet dream, but it took me inside it to make it hers. Same with her human form, someone less poised would make it unsettling, she has the playfulness and power to make it very sexy.

"My one disappointment," she says as she slips into the water up to her neck and moves towards me, "Is that you're not ticklish, and I am supremely so. But you are very sensitive elsewhere." She still touches and rubs, searching for the chink in my armor.

I should have paid more attention, but when she takes a deep breath, and slips beneath the water, I ignore it. Thinking it's more tickling. Or a 'belly buzzer'. My mistake.

The rubbing of her horn on my side, and her mouth somewhere else alerts me, but too late. I try to push her away, she doesn't get the hint and adds a few, very careful bites. I'm getting harder by the second.

Grabbing her by the hair and horn is out. I find a few of her most ticklish spots. The muffled squawk and cloud of bubbles shows me I hit, I continue my 'assault'. She stops and surfaces. She grabs my wrists and pushes my hands behind my back. I take the opportunity to nibble on her neck.

"No fair," she complains as she arches her neck to give me better access. Then she pulls away. "Oh, you tricked me," she said with faint anger, then her expression softens, "Don't worry, I can hold my breath a long time." She nuzzles me. "Don't worry, just relax and enjoy it." She glides back under the water with nary a ripple.

There are times you simply must allow things to happen. Her mouth and lips are soft and strong, her hands touch and caress here and there, until I'm trembling to release. I'm praying to outlast her, but she wasn't kidding about being able to hold her breath for a long time. No hint of panic, or speeding up to finish so she can get another breath. She's learned to take her time and let things build. My body is painfully screaming to let her win. Why won't I? She's going to anyway, taking my resistance as a challenge to defeat.

I let her, feeling the release and painfully-tight, almost-stretched feelings dissipate.

What explodes out of the water is a horse-sized Alicorn. Which are bulging more, her eyes or her cheeks is hard to say. She's looking around frantically for some place to spit out her mouthful. She rejects the tile floor since it'll get into the grout and cracks, and stay there, and rejects the water of the tub since it'll get over both of us, so she reluctantly swallows. The lump going down her throat is obvious, painfully to both of us.

"GAHurGLEEKleeleeeckdah!" she announces as she flops back so she can frantically scrape her long tongue with both forehooves.

Tongue that long and muscular would make her very popular with the mares. I edge away from her frantic scrape, gargle with bathwater, swallow, and repeat.

Lady that she is, she catches my unease. And freezes her motion. When she speaks, her gestures and tone are again warm and inviting, "Percy, you didn't do anything wrong, Celly - I, should have listened to you," she says, resting her forehooves on my shoulders, "Rrhahgack! That's awful." She climbs out of the tub. "You just stay there, I'm just going to gargle some paint, to get this awful taste out of my mouth." She shudders as she climbs out of the bath sending water everywhere. "Maybe I should get a small bowl for the meeting of the gourmet club. See how they react." She giggles, then sobers up. "Where's the best paint for this?"

Sorry.
------------------------------

She escorts me back as an alicorn and takes care to tuck me in, kissing here, kissing there as her magic draws the bedding over me. She has a happy, wistful smile as she leaves. Half of me wants to follow her, help her with whatever it is she's got to do. Gadzooks! I've fallen in love with a horse. I suppress a chuckle at the insanity of it all and decide maybe the thrill of 'stealing' another alicorn's slave is part of the attraction, although Pink and Armor are delighted to know the Great White is enjoying her romps with me. They still haven't specifically given permission.

It's hours later and good night's sleep when they arrive back. They're so late it's well into the morning and just at breakfast. Both Pink and Armor look exhausted, and their guards aren't in much better shape. I am certainly going to enjoy the pair's reaction to the letter I left them in case they returned and I was gone. That they returned in time for me to serve them breakfast (the breakfast Parasol made for herself and me) is an extra special bonus.

Pink picks up the letter, it is labeled for Princess Cadenza and Shining Armor, so Parasol left it alone.
" 'Dear Princess Celesta,

I would like to transition from lease to purchase the white alicorn I've been trying out. She seems a diligent worker and seems to subsist on ORGASMS!'" Pink nearly shrieks the last. Armor spits out the coffee he was drinking.

" 'She seems to be thriving now that she's getting 80 to a 150 per session.'" Pink's strangled tones draw the four guards, and Parasol to listen. I'm just staring at them, trying not to burst out laughing.

Pink continues, " 'The Pink one I purchased earlier is somewhat more troublesome, but I suspect it is not her fault. To avoid confusion and performance anxiety with her companion, I have not begun servicing her myself as I purchased her as a LAYING HEN'?!" she practically shrieks the last, " 'Per the manual, I also purchased a Studly Stallion - '"

"WHAT!?" Armor shouts, fully awake and almost entirely without the aid of coffee. He looks over Pink's shoulder and starts reading, " ' - a Studly Stallion to ensure a good supply of eggs, but none yet. Also following the troubleshooting guide, I purchased Pack of Friends (with removable armor) and a Fluffy Pony, each of which is supposed to enhance the quality and quantity of eggs, yet nothing. Not even with five mares to choose from."

" 'He displays all the behaviors that the manual describes, but no eggs. Perhaps he was 'fixed' before shipment, or he's had his polarity reversed. In either case, I don't want to saw him in half and count his rings to determine which. I've heard that lifting his tail and inserting a long screwdriver will let me tighten his mainspring. Please verify the veracity and effectiveness of this process.'"

Armor keeps silently rereading the last, while Pink controls her initial shock and subsequent giggles to continue, " 'The other reason I suspect the Studly Stallion is the problem is that my neighbor purchased a blonde-maned one of the same batch, their lot numbers are the same. While that Studly Stallion fights with other stallions, preens and poses as described, when my friend put a mirror in his enclosure, she started getting an egg every other day, and two on Sunday.'" At that Pink completely loses it, rolling on the ground and gasping about Blueblood being in love with himself and laying eggs.

Parasol and the four guards are all wavering between stunned and utterly horrified.

" 'This is all very distressing,'" Parasol takes up the letter and reads aloud, " 'I am a big fan of your products, but this last purchase has been nothing but trouble.
Signed,
By the Grace of Dog, Protector of the Shif, His Imperial Aquatic and Dyslexic Majesty Ursine IX of Greater United Equestria and the Sandwich Islands, Stevedore of Dragonhome, Defender of Peoples' Democratic Republic of Upper and Sideward Suburbia, Inflictor of Maggots to the Electors of the Holy Canine Catiphate, Chief Cook and Bottlewasher of the Ochlocracy of the Griffons, Salter to Taste for the High Bishop of Lower Mediocracy, and Patent Pending Esquire.'"

Parasol lowers the page and wears an expression usually reserved for those who've been hit in the face with a board, several times. I've managed to keep a straight face throughout the entire episode, and even now I am not in the running for suspects. The 'hunt for those responsible' should be fun, but Pink and Armor discard their two prime suspects: the Great White and the Mighty Poof, as they wouldn't have included themselves, especially not in such a humiliating matter.

"Do we tell anypony about this?" Left Front asks.

"Absolutely not!" Armor and Pink tell her in unison.

"Pack of Friends with removable armor," Parasol says, and starts laughing.

"At least I'm not a 'Fluffy Pony'," Right Rear replies, but she's grinning.

"Eggs is it, I'll get that screwdriver and have your mainspring tightened into an egg-laying machine," Armor says.

"That is clearly not how my mainspring is to be tightened," Pink says sweetly, "Armor, my dear." She can't do bitchy worth beans, and is soon laughing harder than he is.

"Oh, this is not funny," Armor says.

"Yes it is," Parasol squeaks between laughs.

"Captain," Right-Front says, "You try to tighten my mainspring, I'll reverse your polarity permanently." She sounds threatening, but every pony laughs.

"I wonder if that would give me more rings or less," Armor asks.

"Oh, ow, ow, my ribs hurt," Pink admits, "I think we'd better just burn this. If anypony ever reads it, there'd be endless trouble."

I'm glad I remember it, dropping off an amended copy to the Mighty Poof would be entirely worth it. After all, no one would expect me to be the author.
------------------------------

Lunch is an interesting affair. I had a hankering for a grilled cheese sandwich, and Parasol had returned from the market with at least six different kinds of cheeses. Some rather, fragrant. I'd watched her cook on a couple of occasions, so I figure the 'monkey see, monkey do' mental gymnastics will be in full effect. Left Front and Right Rear are waiting in one door to the kitchen, Armor and Left Rear in the other, all four of them with fire extinguishers. Right Front and Pink are scribbling notes. I'd already sliced off the cheese for the sandwiches before they 'caught' me. They were fascinated that I mixed the cheeses so each sandwich would be fairly similar to the others. The stove was simple enough, I mean they operate it with hooves. The spatula is also simple.

The nervous whispering is the hilarious part.

"Should be jump him?" Left Front whispers.

"And spook him while he's got a hot skillet?" Right Rear replies, "You may want a branding, but I don't."

"This is amazing," Pink says, "He's watched you cook, Parasol?"

"Yes," the hoof maiden says, "I let him flip the eggs a couple days ago, I didn't think he'd do this. I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry," Pink assured her, "It's, it's, it's . . ."

"Amazing?" Armor asks and shudders, "Just remember Twilie's first cooking."

"You got the jelly out of your coat eventually," Pink says.

"I had to let it grow out and then shave it off," Armor replies, "What'll he do when he's done?"

"He might do anything!" Pink squeals, "He might even -"

"Might even?" Armor asks.

"Might even," Pink says and gasps, "Take the platter to the table, the horror!"

"You think we're overreacting?" Armor asks.

"I was Twilie's foalsitter, the fire extinguishers are okay, treating it as the Third Battle of Griffonstan is overreacting," Pink replies.

Courteous creature I am, I do make enough for everybody. I shut off the stove pick up the platter with all the sandwiches. The ponies clear out of the way to let me through the door and to the table. There I set the platter down and stare at them.

Very sheepishly, they approach and sit down to enjoy the sandwiches.

Sometimes it's fun to freak them out this way. It's also very strange to watch them rationalize it all away. If they ever find out the truth, I think there's going to be a few nervous breakdowns.

After lunch Octavia arrives, she takes one look at the collection of fire extinguishers, the nervous smiles on Pink and Armor and just rolls her eyes. "Old people," she says under her breath. Neither Pink nor Armor are particularly happy with her analysis and dismissal. Welcome to the party, pal.

We've completed the version of In the Beginning, Humans and the War. We run through bits and pieces of it, but never the whole thing. Parasol has a knowing look, since she's the only one who's heard basically the whole thing. I'm almost good enough to read the music written. Which is an improvement, I couldn't sight-read on Earth.

Pink and Armor watch the entire time Octavia is there. I suspect that their internal rationalizations are wearing thin, and they are trying to figure out what to do next.

Muttonchops' arrival distracts them. "The prisoner, that pegasus, was found in the corner of her cell, screaming like a banshee," he says and hands over a photo, "That was found stuck on a bed post."

I'm dying to see what it is, but I have to curb my curiosity, I am not supposed to know too many words.

"Someone carved a jack o'lantern out of an avocado?" Armor asks.

Octavia saves me by starting to laugh like a maniac, so my snort goes unnoticed. I suspect she heard about the 'murder' attempt, and like a few others is glad someone is giving the would-be, ninja pegasus a bit of a hard time.

"Young lady, it's not funny," Muttonchops says.

"Yes it is. He tries to help her Highness, someone tries to kill him, and the killer is getting frightening avocados delivered," the young cellist says as she glances at the photo, "That's a creepy smile, but that's what a jack o'lantern is supposed to look like."

I think a little bird is having a good time. Note to self, phoenixes, phonenixi? Are vicious when provoked. Don't piss them off.
------------------------------

For once, Pink and Armor decide to keep an eye on me tonight. The Great White checks in, sees I'm not going to be available, and goes about her business. I am learning that the real test of being a superhero living a double life, is extreme fatigue.

The guards are nervous about my behavior, and their whispers are clear indication. Pink and Armor suggest another trip to the Institute.

"No," they both say together and nervously laugh.

"I doubt the good doctor will ever forgive Percy," Pink says.

"I think the good doctor will tear her fur out with whatever he does to her tests," Armor replies. Then he gets a bright idea. "I wonder."

He carefully sketches a tic-tac-toe board on a piece of paper. He put and 'X' in the upper right-hand corner, and slides the paper over to me. I pick it up, turn it this way and that. Sniff the paper. All the while, Armor and the others are leaning closer and closer. I set the paper on the table and fold the paper in half so the 'X' is still exposed. They stare. And in half again, keeping the 'X' visible. They stare more closely. In half again, and they stare. Again, and again, until I have eight folds and the thing the size of half a cookie in area and thickness. But the 'X' is prominently centered at the top of the paper. They are watching very closely.

I eat the paper.

"Okay, no more intelligence tests when we're all tired," Armor says, "Let's all get some sleep, and maybe tomorrow, things won't be so weird."

You wish, this whole place is weird.

I return to my room and consider what I've got versus what I need. I need to explore the entire castle, to determine where there are supplies for my trip to the Everfree. I need to see what trick that phoenix has to get us past the guards to get the chalkboards, which I hope to adapt to escaping as far as I can by train on a similar pass.

And lastly, I wonder about the Great White. While I desperately want to escape, where I am no longer an item to be broken without anyone or anything to avenge me, I also don't want to leave her in the lurch. Idiot, I tell myself, after her sister arrives, that'll all take care of itself. I'm just a stopgap, a surrogate for her family. As soon as she can forgive herself for failing her sister, she'll find a pony to connect with. Don't assume that she'll miss you. If what I've overheard about human lifespans, and her lifespan, she already knows I may disappear tomorrow. Deal with it. Yet, I still feel she has real feelings for me, beyond what a clever pet might gather. I don't know, I just don't know. So I have to start increasing my efforts to find out.

Author's Notes:

The scene:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIT9DlQoH48

Just the Music:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQhyaBviiLw