It was almost noon before Trixie managed to escape Rarity’s “clutches”. Try as she might —and Trixie had valiantly struggled— the fashionista simply wouldn’t take “No” for an answer.

Considering the bounce in her step as she headed home, it couldn’t have been that bad . . . and, truly, it really hadn’t been. Granted, the moment the studio door had closed behind them, Rarity had started winding up like a dynamo, and it hadn’t taken very long at all before she’d hit her stride. Within a few minutes, measuring tapes had been encircling Trixie, while a clipboard and pencil had floated just off to one side of Rarity —whom had yet another measuring tape draped over her shoulders, and half-moon glasses perched on her nose. A light blue aura had outlined all of them as Rarity had briskly, and efficiently, taken multiple measurements; had nudged Trixie into a variety of poses; had held swatches of fabrics up to the stunned cerulean unicorn, appraising colors, textures and materials— as well as a variety of . . . well, you get the point.

Nor had it been simply appraising and analyzing from the perspective of an experienced couturier. If only it had been that easy!

Mane and tail styles. Jewelry. Accessories. Cosmetics.

At times, all of that had come very close to triggering . . . bad things. Trixie’s eyes had tightened, her belly had knotted, bile had surged. It had been as if the years had rolled away, and she was once more a young, helpless and impotent, filly, forced to stand there as a legion of servants groomed and garbed her within an inch of her life . . . with nary a thought nor concern as to the feelings or preferences of the little one placed in their charge.

But, this time . . . this time, it had been Trixie who had sought out the help of an expert clothier. And, although Rarity might be —strike that: she most definitely was— “brisk and efficient”, she was also chatty (never gossipy, perish the thought!) and affable, easily mixing the necessity of duty with the opportunity to share companionship.

Somehow, “test swatches” had turned into “sample patterns”, which, inexplicably, had turned into a “prototype”. Chalk had swiped lines, pins had tucked, pleated, and hemmed, scissors had snipped and sheared, needles had flashed like darting minnows trailing thread as if colorful streamers. Every time Trixie had tried demurring, Rarity had parried with a quip, joke, or anecdote in riposte.

Darling, be a dear, please, and lend me a hoof? I’ve been simply dying to try this pattern.

My my! I had no idea how well that would contrast. I simply must experiment a bit. You don’t mind, do you?

These have been laying around forever. I’ve never found the right opportunity to properly use them where they would shine. I just want to see how they look . . . goodness gracious, darling! Simply marvelous!

Towards the end, Trixie had felt as if her eyes had crossed; she would have sworn any oath chosen that, somehow, Rarity had multiplied.

Have some tea, darling. I’m just about finished. You’ve been such a help!

“Just about finished” had meant about fifteen minutes of final tucks and hems, along with mane and tail brushings. By then Trixie had been very happy to have a cup of restorative tea. She had only visited there to inquire about possibilities and pricing, but . . .

As she trotted along, hooves almost skipping, Trixie was torn between euphoria, anxiety, shyness, and breathlessness. Rarity had loaned her dual saddlebags for carrying the multiple packages that —somehow!— Trixie had wound up possessing. Trixie had “B-bbut, b-bbut-b-bbut”-ed, but Rarity had merely “Tut-tut-tut”-ed as she had bundled, then wrapped, and then finally stowed the packages in both of the saddlebag pouches.

It hadn’t been until Rarity had levitated the saddlebags in place, just in front of Trixie’s croup, that the overwhelmed unicorn had finally shaken off her enthrallment. “Rarity!” she’d spluttered. “Trixie told you that she hadn’t the bits for something like this! She——”

Trixie had slithered to a stop, her budding sense of aggrievement and indignity neatly nipped as Rarity had genteelly held up a placating hoof. “Is that rather what you’d been picturing?” she’d asked.

“Well . . . yes,” she’d replied, feeling her cheeks heat a bit.

“Is that what you’d wanted?” Rarity had pressed.

“Well . . . yes,” she’d admitted, and then her face had grown even warmer, as she’d ducked her head a bit while circling the tip of a forehoof against the floor, as if digging a hole, confessing, “It . . . it’s even better than anything Trixie had pictured.”

“And do you really want to wait?” Rarity didn’t need an answer, for by then Trixie’s face was glowing quite nicely as she’d started fidgeting a bit.

Hers lips softly curving, Rarity had moved until she had been in front of Trixie, gazing at her face-to-face. “I could say I’d just gotten carried away,” she’d quietly said, “Which, as anypony who knows me well, would certainly find believable. And, in all honesty, there is a touch of truth to that. I could also say that I found this to be a very enjoyable challenge. And, again in all honesty, there is quite a bit of truth to that, as well,” she’d warmly smiled at that admission.

Then she’d grown serious. “I admire your determination to be independent and self-sufficient. In fact, I respect that a great deal. Therefore, if you truly insist on reimbursing me for cost, or, for that matter, insist on full payment, I won’t force the issue. But, before you decide,” she’d raised a forehoof a second time, forestalling any immediate reply from Trixie. “I’d like to say three things. If I may?”

That hadn’t been feigned courtesy, Trixie had realized. Rarity had truly been asking permission, and, had she refused, Trixie understood that Rarity, at that very instant, would have ceased and desisted. Not trusting her voice, Trixie had simply nodded.

“Thank you, darling,” Rarity had warmly smiled, and, Trixie had been stunned to understand, once again, that hadn’t been disingenuous. “Well, as I’d said, there are three things; the first being that fashion is my purpose and focus. My life. This morning, with you, was simply exhilarating, darling. It filled me with joie de vivre. Which leads to the second: I enjoy being a couturier to my friends, to the point of sometimes, ah . . .” she’d sheepishly trailed off for a moment, “Well, let’s just say that I’ve sometimes been accused of “going overboard” as ‘twere. And, finally,” she’d gazed quite steadily at Trixie, “I do, after all, represent the element of Generosity. So I would consider it a great honor if you would allow me to exercise that on your behalf today.”

Trixie was halfway between Carousel Boutique and home when she suddenly paused in mid-step. She’d been planning to go home —it was her home, after all; she’d only been an invited guest of Princess Twilight’s at the Castle of Friendship. But, what to do about the packages? Yes, she could store them in her wagon, true enough. However, as for their intended purpose . . .

“Drat,” she muttered, nibbling her lower lip as she considered all the ramifications. She simply didn’t feel comfortable assuming she was welcome to stay at the Castle of Friendship anytime she chose. That would just be very arrogant and presumptuous, even as she strongly suspected —lightly blushing as she did— that Twilight wouldn’t mind at all should Trixie decide to temporarily relocate to her castle.

The sudden image of just where Twilight might decide to “house” Trixie —or would that be “store”?—brought an even deeper flush to her face, as she felt shivery tingles radiating outwards from her belly.

Sheepishly grinning at the preposterousness of that little daydream —darn it!—Trixie had just decided on her wagon as her destination when she spotted Flitter and Sassaflash ambling along, and headed in Trixie’s direction. Flitter, a grayish-lilac pegasus mare, was sporting the usual pink bow in her mane; Sassaflash, her companion, was a pale turquoise pegasus mare. Both were members of the Ponyville Weather Team, and both considered above-average fliers.

Fliers . . . above-average fliers.

Pegasi.

“Excuse me? Flitter and Sassaflash? May Trixie have a word with you? She has a request to make.”

“Hey there Trixie!” Flitter chirped. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, feeling better?” Sassaflash chimed in. “I understand you kinda overdid it?”

Sidestepping that, Trixie artfully replied, “It had been a while since Trixie had last performed.”

“Well, everypony’s still talking about it,” Flitter observed, as Sassaflash nodded in agreement. “It was awesomely amazing! So . . . what did you want to ask?”

While not wishing to deceive, neither did she desire openly stating her reasons for asking. “There is a research project Trixie is working on,” she began. “It is comparing and contrasting the various pony tribe talents.”

The two pegasi glanced at each other, then back at Trixie. “What would you want from us?” Flitter asked.

“Simply to examine each of you, using specific spells to do so, to gather information to help establish where the three pony tribes are similar, and where they diverge. It should take no more than an hour, and quite likely less than that.”

“Ummm . . . spells?” Sassaflash asked.

“Spells, yes. And completely harmless; similar in nature to an in-depth medical examination. All you would need to do is just sit, and relax.”

“Harmless,” Flitter repeated.

“Harmless,” Trixie confirmed. “Trixie will Pinkie Promise if you wish.”

Both mares grinned at that. “If you promise, that’s good enough for me,” Flitter claimed.

“Me, too,” assured Sassaflash.

All three jumped at hearing an out-of-thin-air voice —and very familiar one, at that— pout, “Awwww.”

Trixie needed to make two stops on her way home, to replenish supplies she would need later that afternoon. Well, “replenish” wasn’t quite accurate; “rebuild”, however, fit the bill quite nicely. Her original thaumaturgy arcanum supplies had been destroyed along with her first wagon, and Trixie had never bothered replacing them. She most likely didn’t need them today, for what she’d intended. However, it certainly wouldn’t hurt having, and using, them, and it might, quite possibly, even help.

During her travels, Trixie had a minor inspiration. Since she was already going to be examining the pegasus aspect this afternoon, perhaps it would be a good idea to include, as well, representatives from the other two tribes. As taught at Princess Celestia’s school, no accumulation of knowledge, no collection of information, was ever pointless or wasted. And so, on her way home, she’d first asked Caramel Apple, an earth pony mare belonging to the ubiquitous Apple family, and then Diamond Mint, a unicorn mare, for their assistance with her research project.

For some reason, Caramel Apple had simply agreed, asking no questions, an action that had deeply touched Trixie. Diamond Mint, on the other hoof, had been a bit, well . . . not suspicious, exactly, more just a tad uncertain, but she had finally agreed once Trixie had sufficiently reassured her.

Arriving at her wagon around noon, Trixie carefully stored her non-purchases/gifts away, before sitting down to a quick lunch. Spike was right: regular meals were important for everypony, but even more so for Mages. Moreover, since Trixie was going to be expending a great deal of resources today . . .

She hadn’t done anything this involved since dropping out of the School for Gifted Unicorns. She started by first cleansing a generous area in her clearing, scouring a thirty-hooflength circular area down to bare soil, before leveling it perfectly flat while simultaneously compacting it. Once that was complete, Trixie then Purified the circle, using some of the just-purchased items as necessary components. After that, she then inscribed three Circles, using powdered chalks and gemstones to outline both the Circles themselves, along with several sigils that formed part of the circumference.

Those preparations, and their purpose, were entirely passive: Purification would remove any potential energies that might interfere with, or muddle, the readings Trixie was intending to detect from the two mares, while the Circles themselves were simply to help Trixie focus both her mind and her energies during the examination.

She was just finishing when Flitter and Sassaflash strolled into the clearing, their low conversation, as well as their motion, coming to an abrupt halt upon seeing Trixie’s handiwork. Although being rather familiar, albeit indirectly, with magic —they did live in Ponyville, after all— they’d never seen ritual, ceremonial spellcasting before. So, needless to say, and quite understandingly, they were a bit taken aback by the rather imposing, and utterly unfamiliar, Circles.

“Trixie thanks you for coming,” she greeted with a grateful smile. Seeing their suddenly-anxious expressions, she explained, “These,” she pointed at the Circles, “are simply to help Trixie focus, and to help block out external interference. They have no other purpose than that; Trixie promises.”

Lopsidedly smiling, Sassaflash muttered to Flitter, her voice intentionally loud enough to carry, “If we get turned into toads I am so calling a lawyer.”

Trixie quickly turned her head to the side, and, just as quickly, brushed a hoof over her eyes, wiping away the tears that suddenly welled. They were joking with her! she realized. Not laughing at her, not mocking her. They were simply good-naturedly teasing. Even more poignant, although they were clearly a bit apprehensive —and, once again, quite understandingly— they were trusting Trixie.

“Hey, Trixie. You OK?”

Turning back and facing them, both mares looking concerned, Trixie nodded. “This . . . this just means a lot to Trixie, your helping her,” she hedged; not that that wasn’t also the truth, because it was.

“Eh,” Flitter waved a forehoof in a brushing-off gesture. “Happy to help.”

“Me, too,” Sassaflash agreed. “So . . . how does this work? What do you want us to do?”

“If you will carefully step over the line there,” Trixie pointed at Sassaflash, then indicated one Circle, “and into the center, and if you,” she then pointed to Flitter before gesturing to a second Circle, “will do the same there . . .”

Trixie then stepped over and into the remaining one, faced the common center of the three, and then lowered herself down until lying atop folded legs. “Then just turn and face the center as Trixie has done, and then settle down and get comfortable.”

“Toads,” Sassaflash murmured sotto voce. “I’m tellin’ ya, Flitter; it’s gonna be toads.” Flitter just grinned back as she carefully lowered herself down.

Once properly positioned, lying down as Trixie was, it was time to begin. “Close your eyes,” she started. “Close your eyes, and just relax. Empty your minds of thoughts. Of worries. Of concerns. Focus on your breathing. Hear it. Sense it. Your world becomes just that slow, and steady, in-and-out. A slow inhale . . . hold a moment . . . another moment . . . a slow exhale, feeling tenseness, worry, concern leaving with that exhale.”

As Trixie spoke, her voice gradually took on a dreamy, mesmerizing tone. “Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Each time you exhale, you start feeling lighter. The outside slowly recedes, as you slowly grow lighter. All you hear now is the sound of your breathing, and the sound of my voice. That is all that matters; that is all you hear. One . . . you feel even lighter, as everything else recedes. Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Two . . . even lighter, as if starting to float. Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Three . . . even deeper now, into that floating drowsiness. Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Four . . . deeper yet. Inhale . . . hold . . . exhale. Five . . . completely deep.”

Watching the two mares for a moment, Trixie readied herself for the next step. Both Sassaflash and Flitter were entranced, and in a semi-suggestive state. Trixie could have taken them deeper, but, for now, she didn’t think that was necessary. Taking several calming breaths, she quickly grounded and centered, and then shielded. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to affect Trixie unless and until she permitted it.

Starting with Sassaflash, Trixie rested eyes on her somnolent form, quietly observing with normal sight; watching, as if at a distant remove, the slow, rhythmic rise-and-fall of her breathing. Closing her eyes for a moment, Trixie then cast an actual spell. True to her word, the spell affected, not Sassaflash, but Trixie herself. Opening her eyes again, Trixie could now sense, and see, inside the pegasus. Muscles; bones; heart and circulatory system . . . everything.

She wasn’t searching for anything in particular, because, frankly, she’d no idea what to look for. At the moment, she was simply building a database, garnering information on healthy, and functioning, pegasi, in order to have something to compare against if and when she ever examined Scootaloo.

“Sassaflash: imagine yourself flying,” she softly murmured to the mare. “Feel the air passing over your wings. See the air currents.” A lump formed in her throat as Sassaflash’s expression changed, a transcendental look of such wonder and awe, of joy and elation.

If it is within Trixie’s power and ability, she will do whatever it takes for Scootaloo to fly

Instructing the pegasus to relax, Trixie then shifted to Mage sight before repeating the same: outside, then inside, then inside-while-imagining-flying. Then she shifted to, first, Inner Sight, followed by Performance Sight.

At least that’s what she called them, having never been taught either at Princess Celestia’s school. “Performance Sight” is what Trixie called the unusual double-sight she experienced during certain performances, and what she’d experienced the very first time when she’d juggled with Madam Mythic. “Inner Sight” was similar, but much harder to explain. Trixie used that one, for instance, when (hopefully-properly) making her Magician’s Exit, and she also used that when casting her special illusions.

Once finished with Sassaflash, she then turned to Flitter, repeating the entire battery of exams and tests all over again. By the time she was finished, Trixie was feeling like a limp dishrag.

“Five,” she murmured, “and you feel yourself still so completely deep. Four . . . gently rising from that deepness, feeling a bit heavier. Three . . . even heavier yet, as that drowsiness recedes even more. Two . . . the drowsiness is gone; you feel and hear the steadiness of your breathing. Peace and relaxation fill you; gentle, glowy energy restores you. One . . . feel your weight. Feel the ground beneath you. Feel the throb of your pulse, feel the rejuvenation as you——

Loudly clopping forehooves together, Trixie firmly commanded, “Awake!”

With a jolt, Flitter and Sassaflash jerked awake. “Wow!” Flitter sighed in wonder. Sassaflash nodded in agreement.

Rising up to her hooves, Trixie carefully stretched. “Trixie thanks you for your help.”

Flitter snorted. “Trixie, we should probably thank you. Fog and clouds, but I feel like a million bits!”

Nodding in agreement, Sassaflash also stretched, a happy little groan of bliss as she did. “Did it work?” she asked Trixie.

Carefully stepping out of her Circle, Trixie nodded. “Yes, it did, and Trixie is very much in your debt.”

Twin, dismissive snorts surprised her. “The way I feel?” Sassaflash countered. “Would’a been worth being turned into a toad.”

Trixie was shocked to hear herself reply —absolutely deadpanned at that— “Well, it’s not too late, you know.”

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Trixie found herself bursting into laughter, Flitter doing the same thing, for Sassaflash’s expression was priceless!: jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing like a land-stranded fish.

Lightly punching Trixie in the shoulder, Sassaflash grinned. “Got me! Got me good, too!”

“Was there anything else we could help with?” Flitter asked.

“No, but Trixie thanks you for asking.”

“OK. We’ll be off then. Take care!” Each shoulder-bumping Trixie in farewell, they started leaping into the air to fly off, but, much to Trixie’s shock and amazement, they stopped before even getting started. Instead, they paced a short distance away before doing so, and suddenly Trixie understood, her jaw dropping much as Sassaflash’s had done.

They hadn’t wanted the gusts from their wing strokes to disturb Trixie’s Circles.

Trixie was a bit wobbly as she watched Caramel Apple and Diamond Mint departing. It was late afternoon, almost early evening, and although Trixie hadn’t invested much energy in actual spellcasting, she had, nonetheless, expended a great deal in purely mundane observations. She needed to record those observations, too, before they became all muddled in her mind.

She was terribly hungry, but had absolutely no appetite, no interest in food. She couldn’t help but smile, imagining Spike giving her “The Look” for having not eaten. With almost the last of her resources, Trixie cast a preservation spell over the three Circles. It wouldn’t help at all if a storm struck, or a strong breeze gusted, but it would keep little things like falling twigs and leaves, or scurrying creatures, from disturbing her hard work.

Trying to scrape up any enthusiasm from the bottom of her apathy barrel, Trixie had a moment to spot a shadow cross overhead before, with the lightest of back-winging, Princess Twilight landed at the edge of the clearing. Daintily folding her wings, she looked about, lively curiosity in her eyes as she spotted the Circles . . . and undoubtedly, Trixie mentally winced, sensing the residual spell eddies as well.

Her knees almost buckled when Twilight, as she paced over, softly yet warmly murmured, “I’ve missed you.”

It was a long glide from Canterlot to Ponyville, but Twilight Sparkle needed the time. It had only been two days since she’d discovered the terrible tragedy awaiting her friend, and her emotions were still raw and exposed. And, while she’d been away from her castle home before, Twilight was anxious, this time, to return; yet, at the same time, was anxious about returning home.

For home now meant Trixie, as well.

Diamond doggone it! Luna is right. Celestia never gave up hope, not for a thousand years. I’ve only learned about this two days ago. And, while I might know, for now, what the inevitable conclusion is, I’ve no idea how far away that is. Yes, it could be only weeks. But, it also could be months, even years! Get your act together, Princess. Suppose it is years? Do you want Trixie to learn about her fate, and suffer that knowledge for years?

Her glide grew jerky for a moment as her thoughts continued. Do you want to spoil what you already have with her? Potentially ruin how much further we could grow together?

No. No, she absolutely didn’t want either.

And, it’s not as if I haven’t felt in dire straits before, she considered. So . . . instead of trying to pretend nothing is wrong —like that’d work!— let’s just come up with something logical that’d explain things. Yeah. Yeah! That’s the ticket!

Well, she might have figured out the general solution, but she hadn’t quite decided on the specific answer by the time she’d landed in the middle of the aerial arrival courtyard. A wave of exhaustion swept over her for a moment, then, with a twitch of her coat and a gentle shiver of pinions, Twilight paced inside, nodding to the two Guardponies standing watch.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Spike apologized. “But I haven’t seen her since last evening. She’d had dinner, and then excused herself, saying she just wanted to check up on her wagon. I haven’t seen her since.” He had to start jog-trotting then, for Twilight had just done a rapid half-turn and was now heading back out the way she came in. “Twilight. Twilight. TWILIGHT!”

Slowing up —somewhat— she turned her head around to look at Spike. “What?”

Spike just came to an abrupt halt, arms crossed over his chest, looking both frustrated and offended. “I’m not running after you, like Winona after Applejack. I’m not your dog, you know.”

Locking her legs up so fast that hooves skidded a full three hooflengths, Twilight’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry, Spike,” she whispered, voice thick and clogged, her abrupt change in demeanor alarming the little dragon.

Scurrying forward, he quickly hugged Twilight. “Hey, it’s OK. I’m not upset or hurt or anything.”

Lowering her head, she gently rubbed her cheek against his. “Yes, you were,” she corrected. “And understandingly, and deservedly, so. You’re not just my Number One Assistant, Spike,” she softly murmured, her voice still a bit thick. “You’ve, also, always have been my best friend, and I treated you poorly.”

It . . . didn’t hurt as badly as he’d always feared it would. Actually, he wondrously understood, it wasn’t really hurting at all. “You know, don’t you, that it’s OK if you’ve found somepony else you feel closer to?”

Head rocking back, eyes wide as she gazed down at Spike, Twilight was speechless for a moment. “Spike!” she blurted. “Nopony can ever replace you!”

“Not even Trixie?”

As the seconds slowly rolled by, as Twilight did an excellent imitation of a marble statue, Spike slowly smiled, a mischievous yet understanding gleam to his eyes. “Thought so,” he finally rumbled. “C’mon Twilight,” he finally sighed. “I think we both understood that, one day, something like this might happen. We might have played “ostrich” about it, but . . . you know? And it’s not like you went looking to replace me, or we’d had a falling out. And, if, one day, it means I’m not your best friend . . . I’ll always be a very close, and very dear, friend. Won’t I.”

Drawing him against her chest, Twilight hugged him tight. Tears welling in her eyes she whispered, “Always, Spike. Always and forever.”

After Spike had “bossily” shooed her on her way, Twilight had taken to the air, flying towards Trixie’s home. Already having a lot on her mind, the last ten minutes was adding a new wrinkle to an already messy morass.

It normally was less than a minute’s flight time from the castle to Trixie’s wagon, an interval that, today, felt both ridiculously short and absurdly long. Banking over the clearing, her heart soared —while her belly knotted and quivered— seeing Trixie just below. Coming in for a landing, she was startled at seeing three Circles there. Without conscious thought, she banked a bit tighter, coming to a landing farther away, so as not to disturb them. Folding her wings, she slowly paced over, feeling a lightness to her steps. “I’ve missed you.”

“You haven’t said anything to her, have you?” Twilight asked Trixie, as they slowly ambled along the trail.

A look of exasperation flashed across her face. “No, Trixie has not,” she then snorted. “And while she supposes the question is an understandable one, frankly, Trixie is getting annoyed at that being the immediate first question to ask.”

Twilight smothered a grin at that, actually relieved at seeing, and hearing, an emotion from her friend that wasn’t despairing and despondent.

After greeting her with a hug —a rather firm, if not crushing, embrace— and asking how Trixie had been doing, Twilight —surprising Trixie not at all— asked about the Circles, and the residual magicks, she could sense. Again, surprising Trixie not at all, Twilight had immediately discerned the limitations of, as well as the benefits behind, such constructions.

Unlike as she’d done to everypony else —except for Spike, that is— Trixie had not just explained what she had been doing —which, in absolute truth and honesty, had been collecting information to determine the similarities, as well as differences, between the three pony tribes— but why she had been doing so . . . at which point Twilight had asked “The Question”.

However, when Trixie had attempted to self-efface her researching as something “quite likely to be pointless and unsuccessful, as undoubtedly ‘wiser and smarter, more talented and skilled, minds than hers had already exhausted every possibility’”, she wound up feeling like a naughty foal being scolded, as Twilight gave Trixie her version of “The Look”.

And, not just “The Look”, either. “I’ve told you once before that I don't like hearing my friends put themselves down, that it hurts me inside when they do that,” she’d quietly reminded Trixie. Then she’d stilled, nostrils flared a moment as her eyes widened a bit. A soft blush touched her cheeks as she’d swiped her lips with the tip of her tongue.

That blush was nothing at all compared to Trixie’s when Twilight, in utter and absolute seriousness and sincerity, locked her eyes onto Trixie’s and declared, “Do it again . . . and I’ll spank you.”