Jealousy: in many ways it is the most vile, self-centered emotion, yet it’s one that takes root before the idea of morality itself can even be contemplated. The moment a child cries in outrage that a fellow is in possession of some sort of material item she is lacking, jealousy starts to sink its tendrils deeply into her innate personality. As the child becomes more knowledgeable, she’ll eventually be taught - through repetition, if not insight – that petty material items such as toys and trinkets hold little value. For a moment, it might seem that she has evolved. The truth however, is quite the opposite; she has only acquired a larger sense of scale. The toy and trinket are no longer relevant because they are dwarfed by new, larger categories of desire, such as personal achievement and social standing.

Perhaps it would be less cruel if the truth wasn’t so backhanded: Truth being, the object is not what she is lacking. Rather she is lacking. The jealousy stems from the inherent sense of incompleteness that haunts her, the same incompleteness that I would argue haunts everyone to some degree. While it may appear to, the void it creates does not grow larger with us. Conversely, it is with age and the associated mental graduation to larger concepts that we begin to understand how expansive the void truly is. Maybe that’s why there’s such a high depression rate among prodigies and the spontaneously wealthy: Sudden understanding that attaining completion, or “winning,” will never really pan out.

Regardless of what it means on a grand scale, it leads to tendency to want what one simply isn’t going to get. Throughout most of my childhood and teenage years, it manifested as a desire to be “normal.” I never really indulged in fantasies of being a princess or a popstar; my idea of wishful thinking was a world in which I received more valentine’s day cards from guys than I did from girls. Later, instead of fantasizing about a promiscuous rendezvous on an island with a mysterious millionaire, I was more fixated on the idea of visiting an alternate reality, one where I wouldn’t inevitably wind up talking to the only bisexual female in a straight bar.

I’m mostly over it… really. The world is an imperfect place with orientationally-ignorant straight bars, problematic holidays and blah blah blah. Nonetheless, the experience of hearing somepony talk about ridiculous desires, while she unknowingly trampled mine, might have rustled my jimmies a little.

“Really Fluttershy? A frigging’ princess?” I would have face-palmed had my hands not already been preoccupied with clenching the interior pockets of my yoga pants.

Of course, Equestria! My “rival” couldn’t just be a pegasus or a unicorn – It just had to be a combination of both. Now that I think about it, thanks to Miss Oh-no-I-found-a-hurt-birdie-in-the-forest over there, I’m probably the first human made to feel inadequate for not being able to fly and spurt magic out of my head at the same time. So sorry I couldn’t have met your totally reasonable expectations Fluttershy. Had I known, I would have come to Equestria as a darkly colored alicorn. What am I even thinking; rival? Hah. Good thing i’m not into ponies… or even girls for that matter-OOF

The cycle of denial encompassing my mental process had prevented me from seeing Fluttershy rounding in front of me to take her “I-suddenly-grew-a-spine-and-have-something-to-say” pose. Thankfully, the fall backwards onto my palms was a graceful one, body barely impacting the ground while Fluttershy’s flank landed with a much-less-agile thump. I pivoted, returning to my feet in a half-turn.

“Sorry, I was in another place.” Wishing I was, anyway. I was more than a little annoyed at any number of things. When relationships start hurting too much emotionally, I can deal with it… as long as I have room to emotionally withdraw for a while and don’t have to cater to somepony else’s feelings. It was space I was sorely lacking in the current circumstances.

As one might guess, she had insisted on coming along to help explain things to Twilight… which would have been really helpful had we been able to walk in silence. It was a little tempting to resume the walk around the outskirts towards the library without addressing whatever it was she had to say. Tragically, the required renegade level for that interaction would have required maxing out my bitch-stat. So instead I crossed my arms and opted for the aloof, technically neutral response.

“What.”

Fluttershy brushed the loose foliage off her flank with a flap of her wings and a dexterous twitch of the tail before turning to face me. It was still such a confusing disconnect. Tail, wings, hooves, coat, and mane all had one thing in common: they were undeniably the alien appendages of an animal. At that rare moment, I wanted nothing more than to use those elements to dehumanize her for my own comfort. But, as always, it was the eyes that damned me - those deep blue eyes that radiated with intelligence, determination, and warmth. Whatever she was, Fluttershy was no more an animal than Kate Winsor, regardless of how much easier believing the opposite would have made things.

“It’s not just because she’s a princess!” Though the eyes I found so problematic were fiery with determination, Fluttershy’s attempt to literally put her foot down was hilariously flaccid and delayed.

“Okay,” I conceded with brevity and continued to walk, hoping she would follow suit.

“Um… It’s really not.”

“Of course.” A few seconds of silence passed.

“…I’ve really put a lot of thought into it.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Maybe I am being silly…”

Probably. I bit back the knee-jerk response and held my silence for a few minutes more, regretting it when I glanced over. Since ponies have very little talent for detecting subtlety, there was little doubt I was being a bit cold. Looking over loosened my resolve. I knew her well enough to know from the way she was staring at the ground, head drooping, Fluttershy was probably in the middle of telling herself how stupid the entire idea was, and trying to talk herself out of it.

Dammit.

I sighed and surrendered. “Well, what is it you like about her?”

Fluttershy’s head lifted as her face lit up. “Well… everything about her. She’s graceful… and nice… I don’t think anypony is more patient than she is… but her loud voice totally dominates whoever she’s talking to… which - maybe it’s weird - but I think that can be kinda… nice. Is it, um… weird that I like not always being in control?” she asked sheepishly.

I winced as my hand went subconsciously to my stitches, the memory of her rather intimate repair still a bit too fresh. Feeling a familiar heat rising to my cheeks, I quickly stuck it back in my pocket. “No- I mean, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with letting yourself go every once in a while.”

“Oh… That’s good.” Fluttershy looked away, obviously hiding a blush. “I think I first knew she was my special somepony when she came to visit the second time, a month after nightmare night…”

Amazingly enough, after a few minutes I actually managed to stop gritting my teeth and listen. It was one of those sickeningly sweet stories, one that would have made a regular, uninvolved person groan. For me, it was initially excruciating. Really, the “will-they-won’t-they-couple-who-occasionally-come close but keep missing each other by an inch,” sort of romance has never been my cup of tea. Post-initial nausea, I felt a slowly growing respect for Princess Luna. The fact that she had tried so hard to reconnect with modern ponies, after going through the trauma of losing everyone she had ever known, was nothing short of remarkable.

And now I’m empathizing. Wonderful.

“Nothing.” Gavenstein watched as Luna shook her head, frustrated. The atrocities committed to Fluttershy’s front door in the name of haste seemed to be in vain. A typical guard likely would have commented that Princess Luna seemed overly concerned for the well-being of a single pony when there was a larger issue at hoof, but Gavenstein was not, by any means, typical.

“Princess Luna?”

“Yes Gavenstein?”

“Ah’m sorry to say…” The white guard-pony scrunched up his face in what he hoped was a very apologetic expression. “Ah never particularly liked Sideswipe, mmmkay? And by all rights, he probably would have wound up in a pit of blackness and eternal suffering eventually. It seems to me though... since little blue didn’t croak…”

Attempting to piece what was left of Fluttershy’s door back together, Princess Luna looked less irritable, if not slightly apologetic. “Pit of eternal suffering?! -Indeed. While I would hardly call entertaining my little ones ‘eternal suffering,’ I suppose I ought to amend my previous statement.“

Galvenstein’s hackles stood on end watching the dozens of luminescent eyes reappear when Princess Luna reopened the portal into blackness.

"Children?”

An excitable hiss came in reply from the conglomerate of baby bat-ponies in the darkness

Luna cleared her throat. “It seems that Mr. Sideswipe did not cause any permanent harm to a pony. So no mean-spirited pranks… I remember the last pony I left in your care was led to believe he was surrounded by demons in Tartarus.”

The intermittent hissing that came after her declaration sounded something like devilish snickers.

“You mean I’m not… actually… in Tartarus?” Sideswipe called out from the void, understandably discombobulated.

“Of course not. “ Princess Luna rolled her eyes indignantly. “I assure you, Tartarus is nowhere near as comfortable.” She reached a hoof in and stroked under the chin of the nearest inhabitant. “Nor is it populated by creatures so adorable. Isn’t that right, my little ones.”

The baby-bat ponies cooed.

“So… Can I leave now?” Sideswipe asked eagerly.

Luna frowned. It would be remiss to keep a pony incarcerated without just cause. Regardless, Sideswipe seemed like a very large liability, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not she wanted him “set loose” on the generally tranquil population of Ponyville. The answer was presented in the form of a tiny set of eyes which drew closer to the entrance.

“Yes, little one?” The bat-pony that had approached her was smaller than average, just a bit larger than a hoof. Adolescent bat-ponies could be active during the day, though they were instinctually nocturnal. Prior to maturity, however, younger offspring were much more sensitive to light, and had to be kept in complete darkness lest eyesight be permanently damaged. As part of her ongoing relations with the bat-ponies, Luna kept them sectioned off in a lightless habitat until they reached adolescence.

“Can we help the bad pony fly?” the filly asked. Luna tilted her head in consideration: the average bat-pony could give any Wonderbolt a run for his or her bits; flying was something their entire culture took very seriously. It wasn’t as if Sideswipe had nothing to gain from the exchange, as the pegasus had obviously slept through quite a few mornings at flight school. She noticed the care-taker bat-pony had approached from behind, nodding her consent.

“Yes, I suppose that could be helpful. He will need light to learn, but try to keep it as dim as possible. Thank you children.”

Sideswipe’s yelping complaint was succinctly cut off by the closing of the portal. Luna turned to her remaining guard, a sullen expression on her face. “Was that acceptable?”

Gavenstein gulped. “Ah’m really sorry for hoppin’ to conclusions Princess. It just looked kinda bad with the hissin glowy eyes in the pit of malevolent darkness and all.”

“Do not worry yourself, Gavenstein.” Luna looked off into the distance. “Some ponies are just destined to be misunderstood.”

“OH. Yes. Right. Let me just get out my book of super-duper convenient magic for friends who make bad decisions without consulting in the first place.” Had the nerd-rage not been so apparent, I might have actually been desperate enough to hope Twilight's library had such a book.

You know that old saying, that one bad turn deserves another? Well, obviously that’s dumb and untrue. Assuming you catch it at the onset - at the original bad turn - the smart thing to do would be turn around and come back the way you came. Assuming you don’t, however, the bad turns have a habit of turning into a slippery slope, which ends in a metaphorical sand trap.

To my credit, managing multiple relationships was kind of a new thing. Family, my cat, and a handful of typically doomed friendships had been the previous extent of my expertise. Twilight was an incredibly smart and reliable pony and friend (to some degree), yet I had stupidly kept the whole “mingle-mark of convenience” fiasco from her. Maybe I didn’t want to explain it because I still wasn’t sure where I stood on the whole thing. Maybe I was just a coward.

Needless to say, she didn’t exactly appreciate getting the abridged, last minute, “We’re kinda-screwed and need your help” version.

The situation was oddly reminiscent of marriage counseling. Fluttershy sat next to me awkwardly on the couch, while Twilight across the coffee table from us, furiously jotting notes of some sort on a clipboard with her feather pen; However, that was where all similarities ended, as I would assume that the average marriage counselor generally doesn’t look like she’s seriously considering tearing her own mane out.

After flipping through the third book related to relationship magic, Twilight released it onto the table a bit too roughly, its audible thump the proverbial pin-drop. She stared unhappily at us both. I felt my heart sink at the expression.

“Outside of infidelity… there’s no way to rid one’s self of a mingle-mark.” Twilight’s answer echoed like a death sentence. My head hit the couch with a thud.

Welp. That’s all folks. The fat lady has sung, and the knock at the door is ol’ Shylock, come to collect. Time to pick between red, green, or blue, though it won’t really matter, as everything’s going to hell regardless.

“That’s too much to ask of anypony.” Fluttershy stated quietly. I wanted to blame her, to yell, to tell her that having misgivings this far into everything was just a load of crap. Unfortunately, as good as it might feel, getting angry wasn’t going to solve anything, and… it wouldn’t change the fact that I was equally to blame.

“Nope. I promised. Not going to ruin somepony else’s fairytale just because I forgot to read the fine-print.” I crossed my leg elegantly, and rested my hands casually on my stomach. “’Shy, maybe you should go back and change into a dress? You know, in case you cross paths with the Princess before things are… settled.”

“Kate-”

“Go. I’m fine.” I didn’t look once as I leaned back. Perhaps I couldn’t. “I’d feel more comfortable if Twilight and I talked about the rest in private.” The cushions shifted as she stood, hooves lightly clopping against the wood panel floor. While I didn’t turn, I watched her walk out of the corner of my eye, ignoring the knots forming in my stomach as Twilight gave her a half-hug and walked her to the door.

I’d been here before, too many times to count. Even disguised with a new key and tempo, it was still the same song, hundredth verse. Granted, the usual circumstances were reversed, but the quiet, bitter parting was all-too-familiar. Exchanging of pleasantries aside, the idea of spending time at Fluttershy’s had, at some point, become painful. The new perspective brought up uncomfortable parallels. Losing friends had only truly hurt in the beginning. As I grew older I had stopped emotionally investing, and with the onset of my trademark cynicism, perhaps I started seeing the end of every new relationship as inevitable failure.

Did I bring it all on myself?

The reality was, I had mistaken much of Fluttershy’s kindness for flirting. And in a similar fashion I had allowed things to escalate, asking for clarity far too late.

And now, you’re seeing the other side of it. Tell me Kate, while you’re wallowing in self-pity. Ever wonder if it stung like this for Allie?

Flashing back to that to my last night on earth wasn’t exactly pleasant, as it highlighted details I’d tried to forget. I knew previously that she indulged the vice every once in awhile, but never to the point of the chain-smoking I witnessed on the snow-strewn roof. The significance of the gaunt cheekbones, empty eyes, unzipped coat, and protruding ribs was magnified to the point of being unbearable. Allie was smart: She wasn’t a hopelessly romantic idiot who’d try to steal kisses in the night on a mere whim. If she did… it would have been out of desperation.

How many longing glances, indications of interest, and obvious signs of attraction had I ignored, simply because I didn’t want to see them?

How many times could I have clarified things before they spiraled out of control?

The moment Twilight shut the door behind her and walked back over, everything fell to pieces: the quiet, cold façade I’d maintained dissipating as quickly as it had been constructed.

I must have looked rather pathetic, as my appearance seemed to pull the cork on Twilight’s anger.

“I… I see.” She grimaced. “I may not be the standing authority on relationships, but you could say I’m the reigning expert on all things unrequited.” A box of tissues was levitated onto my lap, as Twilight retook her seat across the table.

“It’s allergies.” I assured her numbly.

“Uhuh. That explains the red eyes… though not the timing.” She teased gently. Taking a single tissue begrudgingly, I blew my nose before attempting coherent speech.

“I don’t suppose you have cookies…”

Cookies really do make everything better. It is true that some things are simply too far-gone to be fixed: Smallville’s continuity, Mel Gibson’s career, and the regretful day Stephanie Meyer was born, just to name a few. Regardless, they at least numb the process. Whether you’re smoothing over angst and differences with a purple unicorn, or choosing between the electric chair and lethal injection, cookies help. Especially the slightly undercooked doughy chocolate chip variety.

“You’re kidding. Princess Celestia really caught you sneaking around the castle in latex?” I sniggered, munching on the last cookie.

Twilight put up her hoofs defensively, talking with her mouth half full. “To my credit, the material of the outfits totally wasn’t my idea.”

“Rarity’s?”

“Yup!” The burst of childish giggles subsided all too quickly, as Twilight’s face grew serious. “Kate… I don’t want to push you, but the princess could be here any minute now. Whatever you want to do, you need to decide.”

“I know, I know.” I held onto the mirthful moment as long as possible, not wanting to return to the issue at hand. “I’m going to do it.” My hands gripped the table tightly. Twilight watched thoughtfully as I worked myself into something that resembled determination.

What I had said as a backhanded statement to Fluttershy was true, none the less. Everything she’d told me about her and Luna’s relationship, far-fetched or not, seemed almost stupidly destined to be. Even if I hadn’t promised, just by being the right person in the wrong place, I had derailed the situation; I wasn’t about to go back on my word and watch it become a train wreck. Of course, honor and nobility only goes so far.

“Um. Which kind of just leaves the question of ‘who.’”

Twilight levitated the feather pen idly in the air, rotating it thoughtfully. “You know… if it was for research-”

“No.” My answer was almost reflexive. Twilight dropped the pen and glared, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Sorry, I forgot somepony has a pegasus kink.”

“What- lies!” I sputtered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Exhibit one: the drunken mingle-mark incident with Fluttershy.”

“That doesn’t-“

“Exhibit two” she interrupted, “Your ongoing interest in Ditzy Doo.”

“Hold on-“

“Exhibit three: the feather altercation with Rainbow Dash.” She examined her hoof with a borderline haughty expression. “Have I made my point?” Admittedly, when she put it that way there did seem to be a bit of a trend.

“Sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence, Prosecutor Sparkle.” I replied glibly. The stern, unamused look told me she wasn’t going to drop it. “Okay, for one thing, the only reason I was asking around about Ditzy was for Dinky’s sake, as a T.A. And Rainbow…” I shook my head, “It may sound like my go-to excuse, but that really was a big misunderstanding.“

“From what I’ve seen, misunderstanding could quite possibly be your special talent.” Twilight observed.

“Gee, thanks.”

“So the lack of interest in me isn’t because you prefer pegasi over unicorns.” She concluded cheerfully. “Care to elaborate?”

I groaned, tossing one of the couch cushions in her general direction. It was effortlessly caught by a field of magic and tossed back at me, bouncing off of my head. The chances of her “letting it go” seemed to be very unlikely.

“Do I really need to bring up what happened with the… horn… thing?” I inquired. Twilight dropped her gaze, becoming very interested in the condition of her hoofs. “Right. Even though nothing really happened, it’s still awkward to think about. Taking that into account, along with the fact that you’ve had my back since the beginning… using you as a temporary solution would just be wrong…”

The unicorn nodded thoughtfully. “I get why it’d have to be temporary, seeing how you’re still confused about Fluttershy.”

There’s that word again, Kate: “confused.” I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation. Then again, it’s hard to fathom that I’m considering this at all. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, current headache growing more due to the ongoing complications than the ever-present magical pressure.

“After the whole feather fiasco, I think it’s safe to say Dash is out of the question.”

Twilight’s face scrunched up in thought. “What about Rarity?”

“That would be asking a lot from Fluttershy’s best friend. Not to mention she’s a romantic.” I noted, not without irony. “Romantics don’t do one night stands.”

Neither do you, idiot.

Frustrated, I stretched out sideways on the couch, plopping a pillow on my head. “The specifics are ridiculous. Not only would it have to be somepony who was okay with a temporary arrangement, – which I’m not even sure I’m okay with – she would also have to be completely honest about it. Really, we’d literally have an easier time finding a needle in a haystack.” I peered at Twilight quizzically from under the pillow. “Unless there’s some off chance you might conveniently miscast a spell and create our perfect pony?”

She glared at me. “I’m not sure why everypony seems to find ‘gifted‘ synonymous with ‘accident-prone.’

I winced. “You get that alot?”

Twilight huffed, shifting irritably in her chair. “Tell one story about how you might have accidentally transformed your parents into cacti and become the permanent scapegoat for every magical anomaly ever – wait a minute!” She tapped her forehooves together excitedly, obviously on to something.

“You’re worried that even if a pony were to accept a temporary arrangement, she might be secretly hoping for more?”

I nodded, not quite following her line of thought. “Yeah. Fixing this mess with Flutters would be rather pointless if it still hurt anypony else.”

“You mean anypony besides yourself?” she noted, annoyingly perceptive.

“Pfft. I’ll be fine.” The knee-jerk reaction felt as shallow as it sounded.

“Uhuh. Well, that load of horsefeathers aside, I think I may have your ‘needle in the haystack,’ as you so… aptly put it.” Twilight put a hoof to her mouth thoughtfully. “Integrity is something she’s known for, though I can’t speak for how she feels about the… um… other thing.” The confidence in her voice gave me a glimmer of hope, a precious few moments before it was thoroughly dashed.

“Really? Who did you have-“

And then I saw it. The trap I had so stupidly set for myself.

More than anything else, I needed a pony who wouldn’t lie. The problem was, though they were generally less self-centered, ponies seemed very similar to humans, from a psychological standpoint.

Therefore, it’s probable that almost everypony lies…

almost everypony lies…

almost

“Oh HELL no!”

I am not an alcoholic.

It’s often a statement partially true, partially false, and entirely impossible to argue either way. If it’s said aloud, the statement itself is practically self-incriminating, immediately interpreted as denial. If it goes without saying; well, at least she knows she has a problem.

Well it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, since I knew for a fact I wasn’t in denial. Idly sipping the fifth strawberry daiquiri of the afternoon, I became increasingly disappointed at the utter lack of a buzz. Yes, daiquiris are generally a girly drink, but the spa daiquiris were spectacularly impotent. On the official scale of all things girly, the drinks would have been right at home at The Little Mermaid’’s end of the scale, directly opposite ofThe Hunger Games. My head thumped gently against the mini-bar.

God I miss TV.

Satisfied to contemplate anything other than the problem at hand, my thoughts started drifting in the direction of home. In retrospect, allowing said turn was probably a mistake, as I’d been repressing thoughts of home for a while. There were the big things like my cat, the internet, and the familiarity of my apartment. The rest was funny in a sad sort of way as there was a host of silly things I missed I never really expected to.

For instance, I rarely call my dad. It has nothing to do with his total lack of flowers and sunshine, he’s just not much of a phone person. At most I would call a couple of times a year, usually on holidays I couldn’t make it home. It wasn’t always that way. There’s just something inherently sad about talking to a person who sounds like he’s forcing a happy tone for your benefit. And who knew I’d actually miss volunteer work? It’s something I started during my junior year of high-school, as advisors said it would help me look “active” in my community on paper for future college applications. Yet six years later, I’d stuck with it. It’s not altruism, not really; if anything, its habit. I guess good habits can occasionally be as hard to break as bad ones.

Then the biggest tragedy of all struck me. The dagger in fate’s smile. Rustling through my makeshift calendar in a panic, my knuckles turned white.

Yes Kate, as of today you did indeed miss the entire new season of Breaking Bad.

Crap.

Sure, I could torrent it. No, it simply wasn’t the same. Had I been slightly drunker, or even drunk in the slightest, I might have given the spa ponies a show, maybe breaking a few glasses in an indignant, pirouetting, existentialist outcry before I inevitably ended up face down in the hot-tub. At my current (read: nonexistent) level of intoxication, the best I could manage was a poignant sigh; a multi-purpose sigh to boot, as it was - in part - a query for the nearest spa pony to ensure my drained chalice ranneth over, renewed once more.

I know, I know, at this point, you’re probably fed up with the current stagnate of my activities and more interested in the what, where and why:

What happened to the indomitable Kate Winsor from before? Where did she go; the girl who once suavely slung snarky sidelong snippets of subtle sarcasm and searing satirical soliloquies, once susceptible solely to sub-par stitching or speeding baby unicorns? Why has she been reduced to this meditative mess of miasmic myopia which manages to mask all meaning methodically, rendering her both redundantly reflective and anarchically alliterative?

In a word: waiting.

In three words: dread drenched waiting.

It had been three hours since Twilight Sparkle - full-time friend, part-time harbinger of imminent doom – had assumed control of the situation, bossily ordering me to stay put in the library whilst she explained the somewhat convoluted circumstances to Applejack. Not having to explain it was something I took no issue with. In all honesty, the, “I’m-not-interested-n-anything-long-term-but-could-we-maybe-you-know-do-it-once-so-I-can-get-rid-of-your-friend’s-mingle-mark-from-our-fake-relationship-because-princess-broody-is-in-town-and-Fluttershy-wants-her-so-we-don’t-want-to-give-her-the-wrong-idea,” straightforward approach didn’t strike me as particularly promising.

In a lot of ways, I really appreciated Twilight going as an envoy. For starters, it actually gave me time to prepare, shower, dress, and apply what I managed to repurpose of Twilight’s makeup. Needless to say, there wasn’t much, though her base foundation made an excellent substitute for mascara. It was less about making myself pretty than it was about the comforts of routine – Not that I didn’t care about my appearance; I’d underdressed for an allegedly casual blind-date once before, a thoroughly embarrassing experience I had very little desire to repeat. With a small degree of hesitation, I settled on the modest blue dress I’d been enamored with before.

Still, modest was a relative term; as all my articles of clothing from Rarity tended towards borderline risqué. The blue dress covered more than the rest, but it was still too short for comfort, triggering a rising panic to retreat back to the comfort of my faithful tank top and yoga pants several times.

Preparations took a little under an hour. It was easy enough to block out the gravity of what was going to happen; it was going to be a blind date, with an individual I was completely unfamiliar with, and yes, I was totally in denial.

For maybe a half hour or so, I waited patiently, content to flip through one of the library’s educational references. Things didn’t start going sideways until I turned to the chapter of the library’s Equine physiology book that addressed the mana system’s role in earth pony reproduction.

Lacking the wings and horns of pegasi and unicorns, earth ponies have no conventional method of “releasing” mana. As such, the earth pony’s naturally high Mana Pressure (MP) skyrockets their libido to a much higher level than the two other sub-species.

Note to self: When maintaining a state of denial, avoid textbooks.

It was sort of like watching the makings of a train-wreck entirely through text. I was powerless to look away, or do anything other than watch the letters spell “doomed” in slow-motion.

Since mana accumulation is common in younger ponies, many of whom lack access to a consistent partner, this accumulation can often lead to high levels of frustration. While normal, it can be problematic if an earth pony maintains a state of high MP for an extended period of time; it is theorized that extended frustration may warp certain preferences, which explains the earth pony’s statistically higher tendency towards deviancy. Tamer examples include: Bondage, Bridle bobbing, and Saddle play; generally any “game” in which one party exerts partial or total dominance over the other.

Unfortunately, that really was just the tip of the iceberg. The chapter was chock-full of helpful information on the earth pony anatomy. Of course, I tried several times to stop, but the previous potential trainwreck had come to fruition as a spectacular locomotive pile up given the Michael Bay treatment.

In many ways, it was as if I’d been handed a book with a chapter titled “This is how Kate died”: simultaneously fascinating and self-damning. I didn’t want to know, but I sure as hell couldn’t look away.

Seventy-five pages later, any semblance of denial had been obliterated. I was no longer picturing a cute blind date with an anonymous somepony; instead, whirling through my head were dozens of very explicit scenes, starring a very specific mare.

Generally relieving, though concerning for practical reasons, I realized that while some I found downright horrifying, none of the imagined scenarios registered as even slightly erotic. If I mentally replaced Applejack with Fluttershy in a scene, there was much more of a – erm - reaction.

Maybe, to some degree I didn’t really see Flutters as female. I mean, of course she was feminine, but in a lot of ways she was more. Flawed yet well-meaning, simple, yet complicated, caring, yet beautiful…. It was her essence I was attracted to, a feeling that transcended orientation-

-Which is irrelevant, as she obviously prefers the dark brooding types with a touch of immortality. And seriously - Earth to Kate - You do get what that justification sounded like, right?

The inner recoil resulting from the moment I comprehended the direction my thoughts had been going was jarring, almost nausea-inducing. Minutes spent in the library degraded into sluggish, painfully feasible seconds, leaving far too much time to think on frayed nerves. It had been nearly two hours at that point since Twilight had left. I looked around pointlessly for the cider for a few minutes before remembering I’d left it at Fluttershy’s. Staring at the second hand of the clock proved too maddening.

Memory of spa daiquiris with Rarity surfaced just at the right moment. I jotted down “gone to spa” on a piece of paper, barely pausing long enough to leave it face-up on the counter before rushing out the door.

The Spa ponies looked understandably confused. I doubt their detailed questionnaires, meant to be highly customizable and to create a treatment specific to the customers were often answered with such singular focus. Aloe showed the application to Lotus, indicating the sole text on the questionnaire, written in the “other” category:

Take me to your minibar.

Lotus gave her sister a shrug that seemed to say, “There’s been stranger requests.”

Aloe inclined her head, turning back to me with a welcoming smile. I followed, preparing to to gorge myself on a tiny slice of heaven…

Or it least, it would have been, had the spa’s translation of “heaven” not translated to three-parts frozen strawberry koolaid, two-parts cherry-icee, and a dash of pink training bra to top it off. Aloe refilled the cup for the eighth time, passing it over to me hesitantly.

“You’re sure you don’t want a massage? Considering zee number of drinks you’ve bought I might do it for free,” she offered kindly. I declined, and zoned out as she began to clean the bar equipment.

Despite a conscious effort to think about anything else, my thoughts eventually returned to Applejack. I suppose this is the part where I say “I have lots of friends who are people of southern origin,” but frankly that’s a bit of a lie. Not because of any sort of prejudice, simply because I’ve never had much contact with them, having been raised fairly far northeast myself. However, Applejack’s accent and demeanor seemed to infer less “average individual of southern origin,” more “bonafide hillbilly with significant impulse management issues.” Her attempts to lasso me within my first few minutes on the ground in Ponyville hadn’t done much in the way of dissuading me otherwise. I didn’t even want to imagine how-

“Squeeeeeeal like ah pig!” Imaginary Applejack cackled in my head; I closed my eyes tightly. Nope. Nope Nope Nope. I just need to find somepony else. While the self-reassurance sounded nice in my head, I knew it was mostly wishful thinking. Twilight was right; as much as I didn’t like it, Applejack was the most logical option, assuming she was willing. Considering what I knew of her personality, however, that “assumption” was hardly a forgone conclusion.

I glanced at up at the clock again: A quarter to five. I might not have been hoping against hope for the Stetson clad, carrot-colored pony to come walking through the door, but it left me with a feeling not dissimilar to being picked last in PE class as I kid. Even if you hate the sport, that rejection still sucks.

“Want to hear a riddle?” I asked listlessly.

“Why not?” Aloe answered, glancing over her shoulder at me as she cleared the small sink.

I ran my finger along the cusp of the glass, listening to the hum of vibrating crystal.

“You’re waiting for a pony: a pony who will take you far away. You know you worry where the pony might take you, but you can’t know for sure. Yet it doesn’t matter.” I looked up at her, my bloodshot eyes reflecting visibly in her own. “How can it not matter to you where the pony takes you?”

The pink spa pony’s blue hair bobbled with her head, tilting from side to side, cleaning temporarily forgotten as she puzzled over the question, surprisingly thoughtful.

“…Because you’ll be togehzer?”

“Bravo.” I gave her light round of applause, and was rewarded with an equally cheesy curtsy in return. Cue small outbreak of laughter.

She hadn’t come up with my answer. Not even close.

But in all honesty, I liked hers better.

I let out a weary sigh before I stood. Twilight might have gotten caught up with the princess, which would leave me to come up with a plan consisting of significantly less Applejack. It was a relief in a lot of ways, though oddly disappointing in others. I thought back to her visit at the hospital. When she kept me company from outside while I was locked in the closet, it was surprisingly easy to talk to her. I barely knew her, yet she came to check up on me for no reason other than the fact that she could.

The bits I left rattled against the bar momentarily, settling as I walked away. I tipped forty percent; too much perhaps, considering the complete absence of liquor, but I hadn’t bothered to say anything, and the service had been stellar. It was hardly fair to expect Aloe to be familiar with human-to-pony alcohol conversion rates. I accidentally bumped into a pony with flowing blond hair on my way out.

“Ah beg your pardon-“

“-My mistake.” I said automatically, not feeling particularly conversational.

“Wait- would you stop a minute dagnabbit?!”

I turned around, momentarily confused as the source of the voice was seemingly nowhere to be found-

Then, I did a double-take; which was promptly followed by a triple take.

It was Applejack, yet it wasn’t. And no, that isn’t meant to be a lame attempt at waxing Zen. She was… spectacular for lack of a better word. The trademark Stetson and braided mane were nowhere to be found. Instead, she was clad in a simple green dress that matched her eyes perfectly; released from the restrictive pony-tail, her blond hair cascaded down her neck and around her shoulders. How the dress made her eyes pop was almost unreal. The gentle part and side-bang at the crest of her forehead made her freckles more prominent in a distinguishing sort of way, making the shimmering gold halo hovering above her-

“Er. Applejack? Why do you have a halo?” I asked tentatively. Normally, I’m not one to nitpick and would have let it go. However, her appearance was just angelic enough to leave the shadow of a doubt.

Applejack scowled, a tap of her forehoof to the golden ring instantly dispelling the illusion. “Consarn it. Ah told Rarity it was too much. It’s all too much ah reckon. Bet Ah look like a darn fool-“

“No! no-no-no-no-no! Applejack you look- you look really…” words failed me, “…nice.”

Great. Now I’m turning into Fluttershy.

Thankfully, the earth pony seemed flattered by the compliment regardless. She hoofed the ground sheepishly, obviously out of her comfort zone. “Ah do?”

“Oh definitely.” I stopped momentarily, deciding it would best to avoid jumping to any conclusions. “Um, what’s the occasion, if you don’t mind me asking?” The dubious expression I was given made me feel slightly idiotic for posing the question.

“Twi’ filled me in. ‘Splained what happened between you and Fluttershy, and why you’re tryin’ to fix things.” Applejack trotted in place. “Fluttershy’s been princess pinin’ quite a while now, so I figure helpin’ out’s the least Ah can do.”

I blinked several times, surprised by the simple altruism of the explanation. “You’re quite the friend, AJ.”

“Aw heck.” She grinned. “Well Ah’m something alright, but it’s not like its that big-a deal.” Her positive outlook was infectious. “Not to mention-“ She cut herself off as a group of ponies left the spa, waiting for them to get out of earshot before she gestured for me to lean over so she could whisper in my ear.

“Not to mention, Ah’m looking forward to gettin’ under that dress of yours, if you know what Ah mean.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever blushed so brightly.

AN: Before anything else, I’d like to point out that pre-reading team extraordinaire Meeester Moniker: AKA Meeester, and Mister Moniker, has officially become editing team extraordinaire. If it wasn’t for them, you readers would probably spend a lot more time strangling me in the comments. :D

Sorry, we didn’t quite get to the steamier bits I promised, though we’re right on the precipice, so to speak. Character development kind of took a front seat, as I sort of snubbed Kate last chapter. I haven’t decided quite how I want to handle the steamier segments yet, though the current plan is to publish the extended explicit chapters in a separate story. Because of that, the next chapter may be shorter than average, but won’t take nearly as long as this one did to write.