“So according to my calculations—which I’ve had double-checked—we’ll need eighty cables, which I’ll have attached to the tower at ten different heights, starting at sixty-six feet and increasing in increments of fifty-six feet until we reach the top,” Strawberry said. He stood across from the mayor’s desk, a flurry of papers messy with calculations and measurements between them. “I’ll have five cranes, sixteen cables to each, surrounding the tower as shown on this paper here,” he continued, indicating a crude circle with five dots surrounding it.

“How certain are you that these cables will hold?” the mayor asked.

“These are our strongest cables, sir; they can hold thirteen-hundred tons each, which is more than enough to hold the tower.”

“And the cranes? Can they hold the cables?”

“As long as we give each crane no more than sixteen, yes.”

“And the ponies inside the tower?”

“I was hoping you could issue a warning.”

“I see. How much will this cost?”

Strawberry smiled nervously before answering. “About three-and-a-half million bits.”

The mayor leveled a stern gaze on him. “I’m no business major, Mr. Strawberry, but I do know that three-and-a-half million bits is no small sum. How does your company plan to pay for this?”

“Well, some of it can be written off, of course, but the rest will be compensated with,” he gestured at another small stack of papers on the desk, “these. If implemented, these should provide additional revenue as well as cut costs on supplies.”

The mayor leafed through them. “You’re talking about downgrading the quality of your own cables.”

“It’s not a downgrade, it’s a redistribution of resources. If we get our steel from the same supplier that used to give us our zinc, we can save enough money after six or seven quarters to get away from our original supplier, saving us tens of thousands.”

“This company you’re proposing is based in Minotaur Territory; how are you going to ship your supplies?”

“All I need is a starting subsidy of ten thousand bits for my own fleet of airships.”

The mayor looked at him dully.

“Steel sells for a quarter of the cost there,” Strawberry said, his cheeks coloring under the mayor’s stern eyes.

“Not with you as the only buyer.”

“That’s why I’ll only cut ties with our current supplier after I’ve saved enough, so I’m not dependent on the minotaurs.”

“That will take quite a while.”

“Unfortunately, yes. It will be a blow to the company, no matter what. But this way, the damage won’t be unreasonable.”

The mayor brought a hoof to his chin. “You realize of course that this is all very risky. What does your CEO say about it?”

“She’s wholly supportive. I’ve proven myself to her before,” he said with a hint of pride.

The mayor shook his head. “Well, as I said, I’m no business major, but this all looks good. If you say you can do it, then go ahead. My primary concern is the safety of the ponies in Rose Tower.”

“As is mine.”

The mayor took several minutes to contemplate. “Your plan is approved. Come talk to me after this whole… affair, and we’ll see about those airships of yours.”

Strawberry sighed with relief. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.”

“See to it that I don’t.”

After the perfunctory goodbyes, he left the office and rejoined Twilight and her friends, and they went back to the lobby.

The group was complete; Octavia had gotten up in the morning just like normal, and while she was as reluctant to speak as always, her eyes were no longer glazed-over. She ate and made ready for the day along with them all, and when asked about the day before, politely requested that it not be mentioned; in deference to their recent reconciliation, no one pressed her.

They got in a cab and saw Strawberry home, where they lingered in the doorway to discuss his plans.

He stood inside the apartment, the door half-closed. “It’s basically redistributing our resources to make up for the cost of the cranes. I’ll just get our steel from the minotaurs; they sell it for cheap. The airships will be a huge cost, yes, but that’ll be more than made up by next year, as long as our sales keep steady.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to assume that, though?” Twilight asked.

“It is, absolutely, but I have a few contingency plans in place. I couldn’t say this in front of the mayor, but I know of a few more objectionable ways to make a profit.”

They looked at him skeptically.

“Never you worry, though. I can handle the finances. Just be sure you’re ready to cast your spell when I am. This isn’t exactly something I can reschedule if you’re not feeling well.”

“Is there anything we can do to repay you for this?” Rarity asked.

“Please. What you did for the complex is enough recompense. This is my way of repaying you.”

“What are we gonna do about the other tower?” Rainbow asked.

“Glass Ribbon.”

“Yeah. That.” No one spoke for a moment.

“It is uncomfortable, but I think we will need you to help us with that one as well,” Octavia said.

“I suspected as much,” Strawberry said. “And I hate to say this, but I’m not so certain I can help you. The way I see it, securing Glass Ribbon will run the company another three million, easy. We can’t afford to spend that much so soon after this venture.”

“But you’re the CEO,” Rainbow said. “You can use company money however you want.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m the CEO of the supply branch, not the whole company. And even if I was, I couldn’t just use all the money. That would destroy the corporation.”

“They are the largest cable supplier in Equestria,” Octavia said.

“Losing six million bits in the space of a couple weeks is devastating, no matter how much authority I have,” Strawberry said.

“Well, I don’t think we have any other options,” Applejack said.

Strawberry thought. “Producing the money to finance a second venture would be tremendously illegal, and very risky.” He looked at them, and they him. After a moment, he closed the door. “I’ll think about it, though.”

“That’s about all we can ask, Ah s’pose.”

“Wait, Strawberry!” Rarity called.

His hoofsteps came back to the door, but it didn’t open. “What?”

“We forgot to mention this, but we’re moving out.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re staying on the east side!” Pinkie said.

He was silent for a moment. “That’s the poor side of town. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Rainbow said. “We’re just moving. That’s all.”

“We found a flat that’s even bigger than our old room,” Rarity said with a smile.

He was silent again.

“You still there?” Applejack asked.

“Whose flat is it?” he asked.

“Huh? Just some mare we met in Rose Tower. A friend of ours.”

“What’s her name?”

“Oh, for the love of Celestia,” Rainbow said.

“Her name is none of your business,” Octavia said strongly.

“You don’t trust me with a simple name?” Strawberry asked.

“Lest you forget, it is because of you that we were forced to risk our lives getting Flash caught. You are not trustworthy.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough, Octavia. Fair enough. Here.” He was gone a moment, and a small card appeared under the door. “You can reach me at this number.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said hesitantly, tucking it away.

“That all?”

“Yes. We are moving out today,” Octavia said.

“Okay. Well, be careful out there. I heard that that Spring-hoof Jack was spotted in the park the other day.”

“…We heard that too,” Twilight said.

They went back up to the Oranges’ apartment, where they made small talk while Twilight packed up and placed their items back in her pocket dimension. The Oranges showed polite hesitance to see their tenants out, but it was clear to all that their departure was a tremendous relief. When Twilight came back out, levitating Octavia’s cello behind her, they said their goodbyes, Applejack’s taking longer than the others, and left without further ceremony.

When they stepped out onto the sidewalk for the last time, the sun was half swallowed under the horizon, and the streets had turned to long, orange and yellow shadows. They hailed a pair of cabs and took off for the east side, and arrived at an unimpressive apartment complex twenty minutes later.

“This is where your friend lives?” Octavia said, stepping out of the taxi. It was evening, and the view that greeted them was a lawn of dead grass, flanked by a garden of dying flowers and guarded by a squat, graffito-tagged pylon bearing the complex’s name. She was reminded of her apartment in Canterlot.

“She said she owns two flats,” Twilight said with a shrug as they entered the maze of tiny avenues and winding walkways.

“This actress who has not appeared in any movies.”

“She’s just an amateur,” Rarity said.

“At least she’s on the ground floor,” Applejack said. They walked halfway down the street before stopping at a stately, black door set into a frame of chipped, plaster columns. Tape covered the doorbell, and the welcome mat was fraying.

Twilight knocked softly, and the door swung inward on quiet hinges.

Lacey Kisses, a full head taller than her guests, wore slippers on her hooves and a large smile on her face. “Come on in.” She offered Octavia her hoof. “I’m Lacey, by the way. Twilight already told me about you. Octavia, right?”

Octavia shook it politely and nodded.

“Not much of a talker, I see. That’s cool, though. Here, let me show you around.” They entered the first flat, a tiny collection of rooms radiating around a central, open junction. Kitchen on the left, dining room on the right, living room across, and a recessed bathroom off to the side, each room was a different spoke off the blank anteroom. She talked as she indicated each room, and although they were small individually, they were warmly furnished and easily accessible to the rest of the apartment. “It gives the illusion of size, which I like,” she said.

She pushed open a door at the end of the flat, in the center of the divergence, and took them out into a warm, wet courtyard. It was little more than a fenced-in rectangle of grass between the two buildings, a garden hose lying tangled at one end and dripping into a muddy puddle in the grass. Water ran in delicate threads off the eaves while a soft rain sprinkled them. Rarity moaned quietly as they crossed it into the second flat, a mirror image of the first, plus one extra bedroom.

“Both of these are mine, but I tend to stay in the first one more,” Lacey said, opening a door to a large, undecorated bedroom. “Make yourselves at home. What’s mine is yours.”

“We can’t thank you enough for your generosity,” Rarity said, shaking her hoof.

“What are friends for?”

“What’s yer water situation?” Applejack asked.

“Ah, right. I have a friend on the weather patrol here, so we get rain pretty much every day. The bathroom’s basically nonfunctional, but I have the garden hose hooked up to my water repository. Use that to clean up.”

“What about your toilet?” Rainbow asked.

Lacey’s smile faltered. “Uh… are you saying you don’t know how it usually works?”

“The toilet worked at our last place,” Applejack said.

“Oh. Well, there’s a common area for this apartment block. There are signs outside.”

Everyone exchanged uncomfortable looks, and Lacey laughed.

“Applejack, is it too late to go back to the Oranges’?” Rarity asked.

“We’ll be fine here, Rare,” Rainbow said. “Now, let’s talk about food.”

“Yes, right after finding out we’ll be using a public bathroom, food is exactly what I want to discuss.”

“Aw, get over it.”

Rarity glared at Rainbow, and Lacey edged between them carefully.

“I was actually just getting ready to set up dinner. You’re welcome to join me if you want. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I make a fairly comfortable living.” Lacey headed back to the courtyard, and they followed.

“As an actress,” Octavia said.

“That’s right.”

They followed her back into the first flat, into the kitchen, where she began opening drawers and getting out supplies, humming a cheery tune. Pinkie bounced around her, singing her own improvised song, and they stood in the threshold, listening. Pinkie hadn’t sung in a long time.

While Lacey worked, Pinkie sang, and when it was clear that they weren’t needed, they went back to the bedroom. It was bigger than the Oranges’ guest room, but just as empty, containing only a bed and a small window. Twilight stood by the bed and released her pocket dimension, and their bags crashed to the ground in a jumble.

“I am curious,” Octavia said. “How does it feel to carry those around with you all day?”

Twilight stretched her neck slowly. “It’s not that bad. You know that feeling where you think there’s something you forgot, but you can’t remember what it might be? It’s like that. Just a little weight on my mind.”

“Interesting.”

“It can get a little irritating after a while, though.”

“I can imagine.”

They sorted their things from the pile, unpacking and rearranging until the room was scattered with saddlebags, books, and supplies. When they were done, Twilight stepped back and looked at the room. With their things lying around, haphazardly as they were in the Oranges’, it was beginning to look more like home.

Octavia went to her cello and, standing up with it in the corner, worked on tuning it, while Twilight sat down to peruse one of her encyclopedias. The others dispersed into the rest of the flat.

Twilight turned to a chapter on sleep disorders. “Say, Octavia.”

“Yes?”

“In the park, when Spring-hoof Jack ambushed us.”

Her tone was immediately dark, almost a growl. “I thought I made it clear that I did not want to talk about this.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I meant the actual attack, not, uh, afterwards.”

“My apologies.” Octavia dragged her bow across the cello, producing a sound that made Twilight flatten her ears. “The confrontation yesterday is still on my mind.”

“It’s fine.” She stared at her page for a second, discouraged. “I was just going to say I noticed an explosion, right before he ran away.”

“You noticed that?”

It took Twilight a second to realize Octavia was being sarcastic. “Was that your doing?”

Octavia hesitated. “I suspect so.”

“It was quite impressive.”

“I can not comment.”

Twilight withheld a sigh. “That’s okay. I was just thinking—if you want to, of course—we might want to go somewhere and practice that.”

“Really?” This time, there was no sarcasm.

“Definitely. One of the first things I learned about magic is that surges of emotion can really help point to where a pony’s talents lie. And, uh.” She paused. “Well, you know.”

“Yes.”

Twilight looked at her, but Octavia had nothing more to say. She went back to her book.

“Diiiiiiiiiiiner time!” Lacey called from the kitchen. “Come and get it, my little ponies!”

They converged obediently from throughout the flat, and she watched each of their faces, observing smiles, eyes, and unquestioning expressions. She, Pinkie, and Rainbow had worked together to produce a large, colorful salad, and as her new friends came together, the pleasure of new housemates faded under the shadow of what she knew she had to do. With just the three of them in the kitchen, the friendly atmosphere was enough to combat the knowledge of her dire situation, but looking at the entire crowd, she knew she had no other options. The Elements were the only ones to help her keep her job. She set to work analyzing them, watching them place plates and napkins with a smile and a pang of regret.

“I dunno what it is! We tried to make separate dishes, but that didn’t work, so we pooled our efforts and made a big salad instead!” Pinkie said.

“Looks amazin’,” Applejack said, taking a large helping for herself.

“I hope so, my little ponies,” Lacey said.

“Why are you calling us that?” Rarity asked.

Lacey didn’t look up. She needed to keep the conversation light, and didn’t want her eyes to betray anything. “Why not? Celestia does it all the time.” “Inquisitive, but not aggressive. Good.”

“Not all the time,” Twilight said.

Lacey shrugged. “I always thought it was a little weird. Like, why are you her little ponies, know what I mean?” “Defensive. Not great.”

“She's our ruler,” Rainbow said.

“Well, sure, but calling you her little ponies is kind of devaluing. She doesn’t own you.” “Blind assumption. Possible.”

“She kind of does,” Fluttershy said.

“See? I told you she’d be with me,” Rainbow said, nudging Lacey. They had discussed it in the kitchen, when Lacey brought it up as a joke. It was one, then.

“I still say it’s a crappy thing to do,” Lacey said.

“I think it’s fun!” Pinkie cried, mouth full. “It’s like, if we’re her little ponies, it means we’re kind of protected!”

“Okay. Not quite what ‘fun’ means, but I see what you’re saying.” “Too spazzy. Like I didn’t know that already.”

Pinkie only laughed in response, and they ate in silence for a long time. Lacey looked up at them when they weren’t paying attention, studying their faces, the ways they related to one another. Twilight was the leader, clearly, but Octavia—the odd pony out—drew plenty of looks of her own. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s running this little team soon.”

She sniffed, and it was enough to get them to look at her. “You’re all from Ponyville, right?”

“Almost all of us!” Pinkie said.

“I am from Hoofington,” Octavia said.

“Oh, I’ve heard that’s a lovely town. It’s close to the coast, isn’t it?” “Too knowledgeable.”

“It is not close, exactly, but it is closer than the other towns.”

“I’ve heard it’s a beautiful place to live.”

“Yes.”

Lacey nodded. “Right. Sorry. I forgot you don’t like to talk too much. So, how’s the big city treating you all?”

“Not bad,” Twilight said cagily.

“I noticed the opposite side of town has started healing itself. You girls know anything about that?”

Twilight laughed nervously, but Lacey gave her a disarming smile. “It was actually a lot easier than we expected. We did the southwest side and the central park area, and the hardest part was finding a spot to stand to cast the spell.” The others nodded in accordance.

“Yeah, Manehattan can be a little crowded.” She chuckled lightly. “Forgot they told me their secret back in the tower. Interesting.” “Now,” she leaned forward slightly, shortening the distance between her eyes and Twilight’s. “Not to rush you or anything, but I don’t suppose you can cast that little spell on my side of town sometime soon, can you?” She smiled again, showing her teeth in a tiny, well-practiced crescent.

“I don’t see why not,” Twilight said.

“‘Cause as neat as our collapsed building bridges are, I’d rather not go over a bottomless chasm on my way to work every day.”

“What happens to those, anyway?” Rainbow asked.

“Huh?”

“Like, when we do a spell. Where do the bridges go?”

“Oh, I just push ‘em aside!” Pinkie said.

“You push them aside?” Lacey asked.

Twilight cleared her throat nervously. “She’s just being silly. She means I just push them aside. Right, Pinkie?”

Pinkie’s laughter diminished as she looked at Twilight’s serious expression. “Uh, yeah.”

Lacey smiled. “More secrets,” she said quietly. “But continue, please.”

“We can probably cast our spell tomorrow,” Twilight said sedately, eyes down to her plate.

“That would be delightful.” “Eager to please. Worth consideration.”

“Lacey, do you know of any places for Twilight to practice some magic?” Octavia asked.

Lacey paused. It was the first time she had heard Octavia speak unsolicited. “As long as you’re careful, you can do it right here.”

“There will be explosions.”

Lacey snorted laughter. “Oh. Uh, what you need is a big, empty lot.” She glanced at Octavia, who looked back seriously. “I don’t know any nearby.”

“Okay.”

She looked at Twilight, who smiled. “You have a lot of magic, don’t you, Twilight?”

She blushed a little. “I’m Celestia’s star student.”

“Mm, I remember you telling me that. You don’t look it, you know.”

“I’ve been told that.”

“So you must be fairly popular in Ponyville.”

“Somewhat. Usually, ponies only call on us when there’s some kind of crisis.”

“Like this!” Pinkie said.

Twilight looked down at her salad, mostly uneaten. “Yeah. Like this.”

“But surely you have a day-to-day job.”

“I’m a librarian.”

“Ah, that explains that.” “Bookish, quiet, intelligent. Good body, good face. Seems like something’s bothering her, though.” “And Rainbow’s the weatherpony.”

“Number one sky clearer, right here,” Rainbow said, flashing her wings quickly.

“Do you work alone?”

“Nah, I got a team. Of course, none of them are even half as awesome as me.”

“Of course.” “Outgoing, but too excitable. Might not do well in the reveal.” “What about you, Applejack?”

“Ah run Sweet Apple Acres with my big brother, little sister, an’ granny,” she said with pride.

“Sweet Apple Acres is the Ponyville orchard, I take it?” “Good ol’ country girl. Family values. No go.”

“Right.”

“Why are you so interested in our jobs all of a sudden?” Twilight asked.

“Just trying to get to know you all a little better,” Lacey said sweetly. “You’re next, Rarity. As I recall, you’re a designer?”

“That’s right. I have—er, I mean… well, I was quite successful.”

“Was?”

Pinkie leaned in, and Lacey cocked her ear. “Her store fell down a crack.”

“Pinkie, darling, that works better if you lower your voice,” Rarity said unhappily.

“So you’re pretty well-known,” Lacey pressed, masking a frown. “Sympathy, Lacey. The mare lost everything.” “As I am about to do.”

“Sure.”

“Hm.” She let some of her sympathy show, and after a moment, spoke again. “And what about you, Fluttershy? Are you a model? You could be, you know.”

Fluttershy blushed and squirmed in her seat. “Oh, um, no, actually. I help sick and injured animals.”

“Awwww, that’s sweet. So you’re a vet?”

“Kind of. Um, I usually work for free, though.” Her voice dropped, and was nearly inaudible. “Sometimes ponies pay to have me pet sit for them.”

“Too shy. I’d never get anywhere with her.” “What about you, Octavia?”

“I am—was, actually—a musician for hire. I play the cello.”

“So you travel a lot.”

“Yes. I have been here, Canterlot, Trottingham, Fillydelphia, Applewood.”

“Damn, you’ve been around. I’ve always wanted to go to Applewood.” “Way too experienced. And not an Element, anyway.”

“It is truly a sight to behold. The venues there are amazing; my ensemble and I played in front of a crowd of millions once, for a Hearths Warming show.”

“Millions?” Lacey repeated, amazed. She was no stranger to the idea of large audiences, but a million ponies watching the same performance in the same place was staggering to her.

“That is correct.”

“But the theater must have been bigger than Canterlot Palace.”

“It is.”

Lacey had to take a moment to process the idea of it.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what I do?” Pinkie said, bouncing in her seat.

“I already know what you do,” Lacey said, grinning. “You bake, and you party. That’s all you do, ever.”

“That’s right! You win! Um, what does she win?”

She looked back at Rarity while Pinkie made a show of thinking. “Rarity, would you say you’re fairly well-liked in Ponyville?”

Rarity sighed. “I guess so. Why?”

“Just wondering.” She paused and leaned forward, placing her hooves together. “Careful, Lacey.” “Are there any actors in Ponyville?”

“Not that I know of,” Rainbow said.

“Not surprising. Not a big film town, am I right?”

“You got that right,” Applejack said. “There’s only one video store in the whole town, an’ it has a pretty small selection.”

Octavia picked at something in her teeth. “Pinkie, did you put a jalapeño in this dish?”

Pinkie laughed and clopped her hooves together. “Yup! You like it?”

“Yes.”

Lacey laughed at the tiny exchange.

They remained at the table for a long time after dinner, answering Lacey’s manifold questions. She interrogated them relentlessly: their pasts, aspirations, friends, love lives, family; nothing was too personal for her. For a while, it was good to talk of home, but as the night wore on, the conversation turned more downcast, and no one much felt like sharing when bedtime came around. Lacey bade them good night and retreated to her own room, while everyone else split into the two spare rooms in the second flat.

Octavia shared the bed with Rarity, and Fluttershy lay on the floor. The two of them spoke quietly, and Octavia stared at the dark ceiling. She felt the familiar pull of fatigue on her eyes, but she could not sleep. Instead, she listened to Rarity’s and Fluttershy’s conversation; there was little to it. They missed Ponyville, they missed someone named Spike, and they missed going to the spa every week. Their conversation steadily grew more tired, with greater distances between their responses, and then stopped altogether.

She listened to Rarity’s breathing, which was still shallow and steady—not the breath of a sleeping pony. It was a trick she knew well. Eventually, after an hour of false slumber, which Octavia matched, Rarity’s breathing evened out and slowed, and Octavia was alone.

They woke the next day to a light drizzle. Lacey was the first to rise, followed shortly by Rarity and Octavia, who hadn’t slept. No one asked her about it. They had the remnants of the big salad for breakfast, and Twilight outlined the day. She and Octavia would go find an empty lot to practice magic while the others went out to explore the town, the intention being to find a police station. They were tired of running into Spring-hoof Jack unprepared, and wanted to do something to stop him. They would reconvene later in the afternoon to cast another restoration spell.

The group split, and Twilight and Octavia sat in a taxi for twenty silent minutes before stopping outside a vacant, muddy lot. A snarled chain-link fence guarded it, its wires sparkling with raindrops, one end twisted away like a metal claw. The lot was huge, a tarnished, wet brick wall surrounding it on three sides, the backs of buildings just behind. Trash, spotted with mud, lay throughout the lot, with an occasional weeping flower to add color to the cold scene.

“There is no pleasure in life. Embrace the cascade,” Octavia said. She pointed to a scrawled, acid green message on a curled lip of sheet metal.

“Yeah, this isn’t a great part of town,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed for a moment, and there was a brief shimmer in the air. “A muffling spell, so no one gets upset about the noise.”

“Good idea.”

“So, do you remember how you felt when you made that explosion the other day?”

Octavia sat down heavily. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Octavia, you have to. If you don’t, we’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Fine,” she said bitterly. “All I remember is being upset. I do not recall any specific feelings.”

“Well… okay. I know magic sometimes only manifests during surges of emotion, but I think we should save that for last. We don’t want to get you upset just for this.”

“No, we do not.”

“Can you try to get the same intensity of feeling, without actually getting mad?”

Octavia thought for a moment, and Twilight bent to look into her face. “I am trying that right now. It is difficult.”

Twilight paced a little, trying to think of what she knew about explosion spells. She couldn’t remember using one.

“I cannot do it. I do not have enough anger right now.”

“Well… okay.” Twilight thought for a second. “Let’s break this down. It’s just an application of force, but in a more widespread, less controlled way. You can push things around well enough. Try that spell, but more… well, outwards.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not being very helpful.”

“You seem distracted.”

Twilight blinked rapidly, her breathing deepening just a tiny amount. “I dreamed about it again.”

Octavia raised her eyebrow. “Nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“This…”

“Every night, without fail, I have bad dreams,” Twilight continued. “We all do. Rarity, Rainbow, Fluttershy… you, apparently.”

Octavia sighed angrily to herself.

“And they’re only getting worse. I… Celestia, why am I even talking to you about this? Look at you. You don’t care!”

Octavia frowned. “I am sorry?”

“I can tell. You just want me to get on with the magic lesson.” She stood up and turned around rapidly, her tail swishing in Octavia’s face.

“That is not true, Twilight.”

Twilight scoffed. “You said we’re not your friends. Applejack told me. So why should you care?”

“Because I was wrong earlier.” She dropped her gaze to the dirt.

Twilight turned again, her face skeptical. “Oh really?”

“I still do not trust you with my secrets. That is not personal; I trust no one that well. But you are the closest things I have to friends, and have had in a very long time.”

Twilight took a moment to process her words. She wasn’t satisfied with her explanation, but at the same time, knew she should be. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

She walked back to Octavia. “Well… thanks. I like you too.” She smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s these dreams. They’re really stressing me out. I… I woke up crying, late last night.”

“I understand.”

“It’s the eyes,” Twilight continued. “I see her eyes. Or his eyes. I… I don’t know if it was a mare or stallion.”

“I really do not know what you are referring to.”

Twilight sighed. “I can’t go into it. I’m already… yeah.” She looked away, and Octavia could see her struggling to keep her composure.

“We can return later, if you want. It is no bother to me.”

“Just give me a moment.”

Octavia did, thinking of her own nightmares. They were familiar to her; they played out in her mind like old movies, every night, the same, and always powerful. She remembered the last time she dreamed. She, too, remembered eyes: beautiful, blue eyes, framed in a white face, devoid of crease or feature. Brief and unimportant, fixed on the slack face of the aspect of her visions, before blackening into its true form.

She pawed unhappily at the ground, drawing a small X before swiping it away.

“Oh, I remember now,” Twilight said, her sadness evaporated. “We practiced explosion spells in the bunker.”

Octavia only looked at her, not knowing what she meant.

“Here, it’s like this, Octavia. Gather your magic.”

Rarity had almost gone with the remaining group to the police station, but Lacey told her she wanted to speak with her in private. They sat at the dining room table, across from one another; Lacey looked Rarity up and down, appraising her, while Rarity endured her prying eyes with as much dignity as she could.

It was a minute before Lacey spoke. She was nervous, and very uncertain. The butterflies in her stomach made her voice uneven, and she had to look away from Rarity’s eyes to avoid losing her nerve altogether.

Even though they were alone, she could hear Wings and Jet in her head, their reactions horrified from when she told them her plan. “Lacey, your job’s important, I know, but that’s pretty low.” “Ghoulish, really.” “You’re not seriously gonna do that, are you?” She shook her head and looked at the table. “Am I seriously gonna do this?” “Don’t do it, Kissy.” “You’re better than that.” Her head cleared for a moment, and she looked up quickly. “I am seriously gonna do this.”

The thought gave her confidence, and she looked Rarity in the eye, only briefly. “What are you going to do when you get back home?”

Rarity sighed. “Oh, darling, I really don’t know.”

“Pinkie Pie said that your boutique, well, fell.”

Rarity nodded.

Compassion crept into her voice. “That has to be rough on you.”

“It was.”

“Yeah. So are you gonna try to rebuild, or what? What happens when you get back?”

“I suppose I have no choice. If I want to continue my business, I’ll need a new boutique, new supplies… new everything, pretty much. But I don’t see how I’m going to pay for that.”

“Plus the expenses of all the travel you’re planning.”

“I know.”

Lacey leaned forward slightly to watch her, her eyes serious, impelling Rarity to continue.

After a minute, she did. “You know, we still have to find an airship before we leave Manehattan. That’s at least ten thousand bits right there. And then whatever happens in the other cities.” She sat back and looked at the ceiling, sighing. “We already got involved in something bad here, and this is the first city. I don’t like to think of what may come next.”

“Where are you going after this?” Lacey asked, leaning back. “Ease up on the pressure.”

“I’m not certain. Maybe Appleloosa. Applejack has family there; it would be nice to see some friendly faces after all this. Er, no offense, dear.”

“I understand.” And she did. “How long will you be traveling?”

“Oh, at least a month. I really don’t know. We need to track down the Elements.” She paused. “And they could be anywhere.”

Lacey nodded. “It all comes back to the money. I imagine the others are just as worried as you.”

“It all comes back to the money.” Rarity smiled darkly. “And they are. Twilight especially.” She paused for a long time, and Lacey let her think. “And that’s what worries me the most, of all of this.”

Lacey had to share her smile. She was anxious, and uncomfortable with herself, but talking to a pony in a similar state brought her a sort of cruel comfort.

“I’m sorry, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to hear more about our financial problems.” She smiled pleasantly. “You wanted to talk about something with me, yes?”

Lacey nodded. “I did. It’s not easy for me to say, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not completely forward about it.”

“Of course, darling. My ears are always open to somepony who needs to talk.”

Lacey looked at her again. Her heart was racing and her chest felt tight, the knowledge of what she was doing making her almost physically ill. “It had to be generosity, didn’t it? The nicest pony in the bunch. The least deserving.” She shook her head. “Come on, Lacey. It’s her or me.” “I have a confession to make. Well, not a confession, uh, so much as a clarification.”

“What is it?” Rarity asked. Though Lacey was a storm of indecision inside, Rarity’s inquiry was free of accusation or fear. It buoyed her.

“I told you—when we met in Rose Tower—I was an actress. And… that’s true. I mean—well, yeah, that’s true. But I didn’t tell you what I acted in.”

“Uh huh. And… is that bad?”

“Rarity, do you… uh, do you know what pornography is?”

Rarity took several moments before answering. “I do,” she said slowly. She chewed her tongue and took a deep breath. “I do.”

Lacey nodded. “I’m sure you can make the connection yourself.”

“Of course, of course. So… huh.” She looked at Lacey, who leaned back and adopted a mild expression. It was like she was meeting Rarity for the first time, again. “So you… you’re a model?”

“Actress,” Lacey said simply. “I do videos. Vanilla stuff, mostly.”

“I see.”

Lacey gave her a moment. “I figured, of all of you, you seemed the most understanding. I know it’s kind of a taboo, and I didn’t want to freak out the others.”

“No, I understand,” Rarity said. “And I do agree. It’s rather… strange, but I’m not bothered, exactly. Not how I imagine Rainbow Dash would be, or Fluttershy.”

“Exactly.”

Rarity continued looking at her, and Lacey had to keep herself from fidgeting. “Well, I appreciate the honesty, Lacey. Do you think you’ll tell the others?”

“I would like to, in time. But I think it’d be best to do it one at a time.” She smiled. “Starting with you.”

“Right.”

Lacey got up and paced around the kitchen. “I appreciate your understanding, Rarity. I was a little worried, going in, but you’ve allayed my fears.”

“I’m happy to help, darling.”

Lacey paused, her head again filled with the voices of her friends. “It’s a crappy thing to do, Kissy.” “Diabolical.” “That poor pony.” “No one deserves that.” She sighed, and Rarity tilted her head inquisitively.

“Is something the matter?”

Lacey paid her no attention. In her mind, she was poised. She could remember when such a decision would be nothing to her. She could remember her younger self, a cold, intelligent filly without any trace of empathy or mercy. Betrayal, manipulation, and deception: all easy things for her. And then she thought of her present: how, for years, she had struggled to keep her selfishness in check. How, after finding friends, she told herself she would never revert to her old ways. How, standing with Rarity, all alone, and her job on the line, the temptation pulled her in ways she thought she had grown out of.

“Lacey, are you okay?”

Voices bounced through her head. Wings’, Jet’s, and her own. “You’re better than this.” “It’s her or me.” “Pure evil, Kissy baby. I don’t like it.” “Real nag thing to do.” “Disgusting.” “Necessary.”

In her mind, she edged to one side. “A single confession. A confession behind the confession. Or a simple ‘I need your help’. She would do it. Generosity.” Then she frowned, thinking back to the day before. “The others will stop her.” In her mind, she tipped to one side. Past and present, cruelty and kindness, balanced for so long. With a gentle smile, all was undone.

“Sorry. Just thinking. It’s funny, Rarity. You know, I never really expected to be in this industry.” She chuckled. “I was in college for a business degree when they found me. A talent scout asked me if I wanted to make some quick bits. I said sure. Why not? A couple months later… well, you know.”

Rarity nodded. “Life can be funny like that.”

Lacey watched her face closely. She had guided hundreds of ponies along lines of thought in the past, and knew how to judge character. Rarity was the kind of pony to arrive at her own conclusions, given time. Pushing the issue would only scare her off.

Rarity rubbed her head as a small blush formed across her cheeks. “Lacey… how much money did you get for your first… uh, thing?”

“It was a series of photographs, and a short video. For the pictures alone, it was two hundred bits. For the video, one hundred-fifty.”

“That’s… not bad.”

Lacey turned away, a tiny smile on her lips. “I had some debts to pay off, so you can imagine how happy I was to make that kind of money for just showing off my natural assets.” “And now for the clincher.” “And while it’s not exactly enough to buy an airship, it’s a good way to start.”

“Yes. A good way to start.” She looked at Lacey again, as if studying her body. “So…”

Lacey looked over at an end table, where a pair of bits shone under a window, placed deliberately. Rarity followed her eyes, and Lacey breathed out slowly. “Please, don’t make me an offer.”

“So… if I wanted, say, five hundred bits. Just to get started with an airship, or something. What… would that mean for me?”

“Lacey, you colossal nag.” “It’s difficult to say. However, if you’re interested…”

“I… don’t know. I think… I don’t know.”

Lacey nodded understandingly. Jet’s voice, more serious than she had ever heard it before, played through her head. “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemies, Lacey. And I’ve got plenty of ‘em.” “Plus, you might not even have time. You need to leave soon. You and your friends.” She gave a second of silence.

Rarity’s face clouded over with thought. Friends. She licked her lips, swallowed, looked away.

Lacey looked back over at the bits on the table.

“We… have money. But we won’t after all this.” She breathed in calmly. “What we do have isn’t even ours. It’s the princess’.”

Lacey kept her eyes fixed on Rarity’s. She was withering inside.

“The bits we had, we’ve spent on cab fare, or supplies. Twilight counted them a couple nights ago. I don’t remember how much we have left. Less than fifty.”

Lacey nodded slowly, watching Rarity’s thoughts on her face. Creases along her jawline, minute contractions of her brow. A very uncomfortable position.

“How would I go about doing something like this?”

Lacey sighed, victorious. “Well, it’s quite simple. I would take you down to the studio, and you’d talk with my manager, then, from there, a director. But I think, before that, we should have something a little more private.”

“What do you mean?” Rarity’s voice was quiet and emotionless. She wasn’t happy.

“I have a camera, and I know how to use it. What I would suggest is you and I go somewhere—wherever you feel most comfortable, obviously—and I take some pictures.”

“Of what?”

“Of whatever.” She shrugged lightly, and in that instant of insignificant movement, her sympathy was gone. Her own voice drowned out those of her objecting friends. “It’s just business, girls.” “The industry is really open-ended, Rarity, more so than I think you think. Anything you care to show off, there’s a market for it. If you don’t want to show anything too sexual, we can keep it to your hooves, or your mouth, or your ears even. It’s all about what you feel comfortable doing. If you don’t like it, we won’t do it.” She leaned closer again. “I don’t want to put you in any compromising positions.”

Rarity thought. “And if these photographs are good enough… what then?”

“Then you sign a few things, we give you the money, and that’s it. You’ll appear in whichever magazine is most appropriate for what you’re showing.”

“And… videos?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lacey said. “Pictures first. That’s always how it starts. We need to see how the camera likes you, how you do in certain lights, in certain poses, and so forth.” She waved a hoof dismissively and smiled. “You don’t need to worry about that. Your only job is to be beautiful.”

Rarity nodded, deep in thought.

“There’s a lot of money to be made here.”

“Now… this isn’t going to turn into something, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re not going to try to get me to do anything I don’t want to, right?”

“Never,” Lacey said, affecting offense. “The instant you start to feel uncomfortable is the instant I back off. It’s that simple, Rarity. That’s how they were for me, and that’s how I’ll be for you.”

Rarity looked around. They were still alone, and would be for a while. “What… sells?”

“Anything. Really, anything. Name it.”

“I can…” She mumbled something, and Lacey cocked an ear.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can try… a little, um, playing around with myself. If… you know, if that would be something you want. Something that would pay well.”

“I can’t say for sure, but based on your body, I’d say it would pay very well.” Lacey smiled as nicely as she could, showing her teeth and letting her eyes crinkle in what she knew was her friendliest expression.

“How many pictures?”

“If you’re asking how many would make it in the magazine, it can be anywhere between five or ten to thirty. That’s more up to the editors; that’s not me. But we’d probably shoot at least fifty. You know, a lot of them won’t be very good.”

“Right, right. And… where?”

“Wherever you want. Wherever you’ll feel best. Bedroom, bathroom, outside.”

“Outside?” Rarity sounded appalled.

“It’s quite the rush.”

“I’ll just go in the bedroom, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sure.” Lacey walked to the hallway. “Did you want to do it now?”

Rarity hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Keep in mind, just because we do this, doesn’t mean you have to be published. If it turns out you don’t like it, I can destroy the pictures. No one has to know.”

Rarity smiled a little. “That’s true. There’s nothing saying I have to make any commitments here. I can back out at any time.”

“Any time you want. And who knows? It might be fun. I’ve seen ponies as uptight as your Octavia having the time of their lives when a camera gets on them. You never know.”

Rarity nodded slowly, then more quickly. “You know what? I’m not… completely sure about this, but I think I’d like to give it a try.” She laughed nervously as Lacey beamed at her.

Forty-eight photographs later, Rarity finished with a shuddering, bucking orgasm that rocked the bed and stained the sheets in a wide spray. Lacey let her cool down and catch her breath, her chest heaving and her legs pistoning weakly, one hoof hanging limply between them like something dead. Her face was slack and dumb, and Lacey imagined with a sense of wry amusement how she would react if she could see herself in such a state.

She checked the film, making sure everything was secure, and took the camera to her bedroom. She would have it developed at the studio the next day, and from there, hope that the material was good enough. She knew it would be. In her head, blotting out the dissatisfied voices of Wings and Jet, was her own triumphant mantra. “The only authentic porn of an Element of Harmony, and it’s all mine.” She smiled wide and sinister as she put the camera on the bookstand.

Octavia and Twilight spent the next hour in the lot, building from the little pop of a firecracker to the startling, air-swelling crack of a grenade. Octavia was panting from the exertion and dripping with sweat, but Twilight had never seen her smiling so wide. With each explosion, she gained power and confidence, throwing jets of dust into the humid air and blasting black, ugly craters in the ground. As ponies passed, they would stop and stare, but were paid no attention.

They left the lot stained and streaked with mud, and had to endure their cab driver’s unfriendly glances all the way to Lacey’s flat, where they stood in the rain in the courtyard for several minutes, neither speaking.

The others were already back, and Lacey and Rarity were working on lunch in the kitchen. Rainbow’s crew had found no help at the police station; their account of Spring-hoof Jack had nothing they hadn’t already heard from tens of other frightened citizens.

They ate, exchanging their experiences from the day. Rarity said she had helped Lacey with some housework; one problem, Lacey affirmed, with a constant supply of rainwater was that leaks and rotting plaster were more common.

When they were done, they rested in their rooms for an hour, reading, playing cards, or chatting. Twilight split her research between explosion magic—on which her encyclopedia had disappointingly little information—and insomnia. She wanted to read about post-traumatic stress disorder, but each page turned toward the section in her book was a step back into memory.

“I’m going to fix the lot up first,” Twilight said as they got out of the cab, “and then we’ll be good to go. You feeling all right, Pinkie?”

“Are you kidding? I feel great!” Pinkie cried, jumping in place on the sidewalk. It was raining again, and with every jump, water splashed at them. They walked to the end of the fence, slipping between the wall and wires into the sopping swamp of mud and refuse. Rarity stayed on the sidewalk.

The signs of Octavia’s spell-casting were still evident, though the rain had evened out many of the smaller holes. While Twilight busied herself with filling in the remaining craters and Pinkie and Rainbow played in the puddles, Octavia, Fluttershy, and Applejack watched from the fence. Rarity stood on the other side of the fence, a small, magical shield over her head to keep the rain off.

For the lot’s restoration, they didn’t speak, but as Twilight began her sigil, their eyes turned outwards. The spell was becoming routine, and though the sight and sound of it were still jarring, the anticipation that once colored their vigils over Twilight’s design had faded. They spoke evenly, and of other things.

It was, by Applejack’s reckoning, only a week or two until they would need to leave again, and while they had been busy dealing with Flash, thoughts of another ship had been largely forgotten. On the other side of town, away from Strawberry and the trouble that followed him, there was clarity.

“There is a dealership at the top of Glass Ribbon,” Octavia said. “If we have time, we should go tomorrow.”

When Twilight finished, they calmly shielded their eyes from Pinkie’s powerful glow and listened to the ground around them fuse back together. The sound was still fascinating, and still enough to conjure a distant fear in their hearts, but when it was done, there was none of the fanfare from their earlier spells. They simply walked into the lot’s center to help Twilight and Pinkie stand, and exited.

Ponies poured into the streets and abandoned idling cars, many of them panicking—to them, it had sounded like another earthquake—while they backtracked in search of a cab. In the mess of voices, car horns, and flapping pegasi, they were able to escape without notice.

“We really should consider warning them next time,” Applejack muttered.

Pinkie laughed.