Salt Block Saloon.

        It was the kind of place that you only ended up at after you'd been thrown out of everywhere else in town; or were already barred from everywhere else in town due to the persistent – not untrue, mind you – allegations of failing to pay your bar bills on time, as well as the monumental destruction of property that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

        But mostly the former.

        They take unpaid tabs very seriously out here in Palomino Creek.

        Palomino Creek wasn't quite the flank-end of nowhere, but it was close enough as to make no difference; it was hot and dry and dusty, and its chief export was its own residents looking for a better, less arid, life somewhere else. The last census put the population at less than a thousand.

        The bar itself was a dank affair, it was dingy, and the sort of clientèle it attracted were not the worst of the worst; they were the tattered, blood-soaked remnants of the worst of the worst who had unilaterally declared a truce with each other after their epic three-day brawl to discover who deserved the title of Absolute Worst of Worst had thus far far only resulted in the type of carnage not often seen since … well, since your last vodka-fuelled bender, anyway.

        This Wild West décor isn't my thing either, Chrysalis thought with an irritable scowl that creased her saturnine yet strangely elegant features. Still the drinks do get you drunk with a minimum of fuss … and expense, though I'm probably going to pay for it in stomach lining. One day, I'm gonna wake up to discover that I have a hole burned clean through me because of this stuff. They'll charge me extra to get the gore out of the sheets, I just know it.

        Chrysalis didn't like to think of herself as an easily-startled sort of person; if you wanted to live out this far from anything that could remotely be called civilisation, you either developed an iron constitution or you found yourself as nothing more than a bug-sized smear across the dusty landscape. That said, anyone could be easily forgiven for being a mite jumpy when a blunderbuss – loaded or not, she didn't care to find out – sat just above the bar, in easy grabbing distance of every nutjob this side of the Ghastly Gorge.

        The bar staff here are either suicidal, insane, or both, she decided with an incredulous shake of her head, her long turquoise hair falling over her jade-tinted eyes as she did so. Chrysalis was just about to go back to her bad-for-the-long-term-health-of-her-guts drink when she heard the bar's batwing doors – literally, the architect who had designed this dump had fashioned the saloon doors into the shape of bat's wings in some weird attempt at a stylistic flourish – open gingerly. Or at least, the person opening the doors in order to be admitted inside was doing so very gingerly.

        Spiky shards of brilliant sunlight filtered their arrogant way in also and there were reflexive groans from many of the patrons that temporarily overrode the tinny music blaring out of an aged speaker, to say nothing of the grunts emanating from those engaged in any one of numerous arm-wrestling matches currently taking place. Chrysalis, for her part, bared her teeth in distaste; the sun always reminded her of her sister for some reason, and if there was one person that she did not need to be reminded of right now …

        If nothing else, it did also serve as a sobering reminder of the facts to many: it's early afternoon, it's a beautiful day outside, and we're all in here doing our level best to blot out reality for a few hours and replace it with that delicious drunken haze. To the habitual creatures of the night, this affront to their beloved darkness was the equivalent to a direct slap in the face from a glove and many pairs, and solos, of curious eyes turned to greet the newcomer who had dared to barge in on the sanctity of their termite-ridden lair.

        The newcomer, a young girl, hiccuped loudly.

        Soon enough, after a good chuckle, everyone went back to their drinks, their fights, or their long, involved discussions about the literary merits of the latest entry in the phenomenally-successful Daring Do young adult novel series. Consensus, as far as Chrysalis could determine from the saliva-soaked slurry that flowed her way, seemed to be that it was a middlin' effort at best and that A.K Yearling was pretty much just 'phoning it in at this point. Tartarus knew, they were probably all ghost-written by some poor rotating squad of fresh-faced interns who'd much rather be working on their own books, anyway.

        Speaking of fresh-faced … out of the corner of her eye, Chrysalis noted the girl take a seat on the empty stool next to her, resettling her skirt as she did so to keep as much of her toned legs covered as possible. This might just be my lucky day. She looked, to her, entirely too young to be visiting this sort of establishment; in fact, she looked as though she should be shouldering a cutesy little backpack with a cutesy little unicorn plushie dangling from it as she skipped merrily to school. The thick-rimmed glasses dominating much of the upper part of her face didn't help with the image. Still, that didn't stop Chrysalis' interested gaze from sweeping the entirety of the girl's petite frame in record time.

        Her mauve skirt and teal blouse only served to accentuate a rather nice figure with curves in all the right places, making Chrysalis acutely aware of the fact that with her own charcoal-coloured dress and black form-fitting leggings – both items adorned with strategically-cut holes that showed off some of her smooth, sable skin – she probably looked as though she were on her way to the grimmest, Gothest rave ever held.

        The girl's out-of-placeness was brought home by the fact that she was sitting too formally, too square-shouldered, as if she didn't want to let her guard down. Chrysalis noticed that her wide mulberry eyes seemed to have an inquisitive bent to them, but she was studiously avoiding making eye-contact with anyone or anything at the moment. Not even with the waiter who was attempting to take her order.

        Can't blame her, really. Pretty young thing in a place like this'll end up getting drowned under a river of drool if she's not careful. Still, that's what you get for running around dolled-up like you're the star of your own niche website.

        “I'll have a mug of cider, please,” she said in a rich, cultured accent that sounded terribly familiar to Chrysalis. Instantly, it set her teeth on edge.

        It was not a manner of speaking that she'd had the pleasure of hearing in a long time, but it was not one that she was likely to forget either; her drink-fuelled mind struggled to join the dots, but … it was exactly like trying to do a join-the-dots puzzle after you'd spent most of the day pouring colourless, odourless, volatile liquids into your body in a futile quest to blot out every single mistake that you'd made in your miserable life. “I'll get that,” Chrysalis eventually said to the barkeep, tossing a couple of bits on to the sodden counter. One of the coins made a desperate bid for freedom, only to be slammed into the wood by the heel of a large, sweaty hand.

        “You don't have to do that,” the girl said, jerking back slightly at the noise.

        “This far from Apple Country, I wouldn't want anyone paying for the cider,” replied Chrysalis as the coins were dunked into the cash register and her change returned, flashing the girl an insouciant grin. “So. Are you new around here or what?” What can I say, some people just inspire me to bring out my A-Game. Hey, at least it wasn't, “Where have you been all my life, good-lookin'?” I do have some standards, you know. Yeah, I don't believe me either.

        “Yes, I am,” she replied, taking a small sip of her cider, her eyes narrowing just a smidgen when it hit her tongue.

        “Terrible, isn't it?” Chrysalis still hadn't quite recovered from the shock of the revelation that they even had it in stock here; no one ordered it much, so it tended to just sit in its cask for months – or even years – on end until the staff finally just tossed it all down the drain for the local rats to drink. That said, it was slightly more surprising discovering someone who even wanted to order it in the first place. To her way of thinking, the stuff was a horrible, gloopy morass that tasted exactly like someone sneezing in an apple juice. And you don't want to know how I know what THAT tastes like. Give me a sharp, charcoal-filtered, creamy vodka any day of the week. Or whatever this is that I'm drinking right now. That's good, too.

        “It won't be giving Applejack's brand a run for its money, that's for sure,” said the girl with a slight trace of a grin, apparently feeling charitable as she took another pull from her mug. Chrysalis guessed from the quirk of her upper lip and the slight incline of her head, she actually found the drink acceptable. “But it's actually not too bad. It might taste a bit better if they stored it in a manucube rather than a barrel, though.”

        Huh. Girl actually knows her stuff. Takes all sorts, I suppose, even crazy cider-drinkers. “So.” That was as far as Chrysalis was able to get with the small-talk before her brain decided to take its leave for the day; possibly in the direction of the pool table just behind them, where the clacking of balls was making it impossible for her to think clearly. Why the Tartarus would THAT be so distracting all of a sudden? She wasn't the type to have trouble starting a conversation, especially with someone that interested her, but … this girl, with her innocent demeanour, her pretty violet hair and tender mulberry eyes was giving her pause. Am I finally developing a conscience after all this time?

        Is it just because she seems so sweet and demure that I feel like I can't, shouldn't, talk to her? Like, she's better than me? In all the long years that she'd been stuck here in the middle of nowhere, with only the Badlands as the next most desolate, deserted area, Chrysalis had never once felt like this. And she didn't much like it. How long has it been now since you exiled me out here, sis'? Feels like a thousand years at this stage. And you've never once bothered to check up on me.

        Bringing out the big guns in order to get back on top of the situation, she decided that some introductions were in order, “Name's Chrysalis. And you are?”

        “Twilight Sparkle,” the girl said, her purple hand wavering in the air uncertainly for a moment before she offered it to Chrysalis. “Thank you for buying me the drink. I, um, appreciate it. It's, uh, nice to meet you, Miss Chrysalis.”

        “Miss Chrysalis?” Chrysalis felt a smirk break out across her face, and she fought to stifle a stupid, slobbering laugh that would've definitely sent the girl running a mile from drunkenly escaping her as she took Twilight's hand in her own. “I'm just plain, ol' Chrysalis. Well, my friends call me Chryssy, or even just Chrys. Chrysalis gets to be a bit of a mouthful, especially after a few mouthfuls, if you know what I mean?”

        “I can imagine,” Twilight replied, her eyes quickly taking in the colourful array of patrons dotted around the place; she lingered on one couple in particular who seemed to be engaged in a vicious war of words, and Chrysalis got the impression that the girl was wondering whether she should intervene or not before things got out of hand. Bringing her attention back to the woman beside her, the ghost of a smile danced briefly across her delicate face. “Nice to meet you, um, Chryssy?”

        “You, too. Twily.” Chrysalis downed her vodka in one gulp and then raised her glass to the waiter. While he was refilling it, she asked, “What brings you out here all the way from Canterlot?”

        “That obvious, huh?” Twilight said, her lips poised around her mug as she tried to act unflustered.

        “You never really lose the accent, much as you might try to hide it,” replied Chrysalis, offering a slight shrug, nodding in the direction of the waiter when he placed a glass in front of her. “So?”

        “Work.” She took a quick sip of her drink, maintaining her strict posture.

        Something tells me that this girl isn't here to be hit on by a random, older stranger in bar; but then, if not for that, why would she even be here in the first place. It definitely ain't for the sights. There aren't any. Believe me, I've had plenty of time to check, double-check and check again just to make sure I didn't miss anything on my first two checks. Guess what I missed on my first two checks? That's right: nothing. “Work, huh? And what is it that you do for a living, exactly?”

        At that question, the girl looked pained and an ever-so-slight sag settled onto her shoulders.

        “Forget I asked,” said Chrysalis, wondering if she ought to apologise. Nah, that isn't my style at all. If you can't stand the drunken lech, stay out of the places where the drunken leches congregate, as my old aunt always used to say. Probably the only useful bit of advice that she ever gave me. It's not like she's even that cute, anyway, though I wish I'd saved those bits for myself now.

        “I'm here to see you, actually,” Twilight said, her long fingers fondling and twirling the pink streak of her hair agitatedly as she turned her head to stare lopsidedly at Chrysalis. For perhaps the first time in the entire conversation, their eyes actually met. “Your sister sent me here because Luna has-” a pensive look darkened her features momentarily “-taken leave from CHS due to an, um, illness. I've been filling in for her as Celestia's assistant during her sabbatical, but to be honest, the amount of work, especially in the lead-up to the Friendship Games, is impossible for the two of us to handle alone any more.”

        “What happened to Luna?” asked Chrysalis, not even noticing that her hand was shaking until she felt a cool wetness drip down her ebony skin. As calmly as she could, she placed the glass back down on the counter. Ever since they'd kicked her out of CHS when her loutish behaviour had become too much for the school board to ignore, she'd barely even thought about her sisters … except to occasionally curse their names for forcing her to get by as a part-time tutor way out here in the boondocks.

        It was a living, at least – it kept her in drink-money, anyway – and Chrysalis had not been expecting to hear from either of them again, and she'd almost been able to come to terms with that idea, too. And then, dear sister, you send this perky young thing out here to rescue me from my exile. Why, I'm almost flattered that you'd go to all that trouble instead of just calling me up. Did you really think that I'd be more tempted if the request came from this Twilight Sparkle? Ah, sweet Celestia, you know me way too well.

        “She, uh-” Twilight was clearly fishing around for her best diplomatic tone of voice, and Chrysalis did her best to disguise her annoyance, not wishing to antagonise the young girl who was – after all – only out here because of her sister's cowardice “-well, the stress of the job has been getting to her a lot lately. We had a couple of, um, weird incidents around the school recently, too, involving an … exchange student.”

        Why do I feel like I'm only getting half of the story here? “Twilight-” Chrysalis felt an unexpected lump forming in her throat and she had to swallow it down before continuing “-how is Luna?”

        “Oh.” The girl blinked twice, flushing slightly, suddenly realising that she should've opened with that news. “She's fine, really. She had a nervous breakdown of sorts, but she's out of the hospital and recovering well at home. She'll have to go through a lot of psych evaluations before she can return to work, which could takes months.” Chrysalis was sure that there was an If ever left out at the end there.

        “And out of all the candidates, Celestia wanted me?”

        Twilight blew out a sigh. “She wants you to come home.”

        “Huh.” Chrysalis wasn't sure how to feel about that; it was no secret, not amongst the staff of CHS, anyway, that she'd always been envious of her more popular sisters. It always seemed that, no matter what they did, they were the Chosen Ones and were lavished with nothing but praise while she was doomed to go always forgotten. Probably where I get my charming personality from. Now that there was something wrong with Luna, though, was it just possible that she was feeling … sad? Guilty? Irrational though it is, do I think that, had I been there to share in the burden, my gentle little sister wouldn't have cracked under the pressure? Am I feeling, ugh, responsible for what happened to her?

        “Chryssy? Hey, Chrys, are you going to be okay?”

        A knot formed in Chrysalis' stomach, socking her right in the solar plexus; it was her body's way of letting her know that she had been a jerk, and it was yet another feeling that she'd become accustomed to over the years. It was amazing how staring into a pretty pair of mulberry eyes coupled with an empathetic mien were enough to knock her completely off-guard. What bothered her even more was the fact that this wasn't someone just being polite, or trying to get what they wanted from her – something that she'd also become accustomed to – this was someone who actually meant it when they wished you a nice day, or enquired after your health. She's so completely out of my league. Tartarus, we're not even playing the same sport. “Yeah, I'm fine,” she eventually said, recovering smoothly. “Hey, I'm sorry about hitting on you earlier.”

        The girl flushed again, much deeper this time. The purple looked good when tinged with red. “You were hitting on me?”

        “Strangers don't buy strangers drinks out here unless they want something,” Chrysalis replied with a cheeky grin, draining her drink in one gulp. Accepting Celestia's offer would mean working alongside the lovely Miss Sparkle on a daily basis, and that would certainly give her a chance to level the playing field a little. Or bulldoze it entirely, whatever. “When do we leave?”

        “You can take a couple of days to think about it if you'd prefer,” Twilight said, placing a train ticket on the counter. “It's valid until the end of the week. I can imagine-” she stuck out her bottom lip in a fetching pout “-that it's all a lot to take in right now.”

        Her eyes quickly roving over Twilight's lithe form once more, Chrysalis said, “Oh, believe me, I've definitely made up my mind.”