Rainy rotated the newspaper and pushed it across the table. Her picture scowled at her alongside Starlight Glimmer’s. “What’s your point?” She said, then lifted the coffee cup to her lips.

“Your cooperation could seal our success,” Silver Bell said. She lowered her hoof atop Starlight’s picture.

Rainy tried to find her eyes beneath the brown cloak. “You’re joking.”

“I am not known for levity.”

Rainy put down her cup, irritation scratching her spine. “No.”

Silver Bell twisted her hoof atop the paper. “Don’t forget everything I’ve done for you, Rainy Days. I brought you into our fold, I gave you purpose.”

Rainy looked into her cup. “I’ve done my service.”

“It would be unfortunate if the guard were to learn where you’re going,” Silver Bell’s voice was sharp.

Rainy lowered her voice, “Watch who you threaten.”

“You are threatened, then?” Silver Bell smirked. “Would you like to know a secret about her?”

Rainy wanted to say no, she wanted her curiosity to stay quiet. “What?”

“She once enslaved an entire village.”

Rainy saw the coffee quiver in her cup. “And?”

“She stripped them of their cutie marks.”

Rainy was quiet.

“She’s dangerous,” Silver Bell said. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“You won’t succeed,” Rainy said. “If she wanted, she could kill us all.”

“She is not without her vulnerabilities.” Silver Bell flipped over the newspaper. “Be passive if you wish.” She rose and left the café. Rainy watched her disappear into a crowd. She looked to the newspaper again. The caption read Local Sasquatch Sets Nacho Eating Record.

There was a picture of Anon standing over an empty plate.

--

Fillydelphia, city of sisterly love. After leaving the station, a strange mixture of art deco and neoclassical, Starlight and Anon walked the city streets, looking for a place to stay. Filly blended contemporary and historic. Equestria’s first medical school, library, and hospital, hidden in a forest of Manehattanesque high-rises. The University City, near the station in which they arrived, was home to two of the region’s most prestigious universities. The first was Clover University, famed for its medical research. The second was University of Fillydelphia, well ranked for magical and scientific instruction, and Starlight’s alma mater.

Walking the twin campuses, Starlight felt nostalgic, a feeling foreign to her typical reminiscence. They travelled Woodland Walk, a tree-lined trail that cut diagonally through the university. Starlight remembered galloping it, the leaves in autumn, and her first kiss by the statue of Starswirl, in front of the office of undergraduate admissions.

That last memory warmed her face. It was a terrible kiss—her mouth was dry, and the colt closed his eyes too soon and bumped his lip against her tooth—but it was unforgettable. She walked closer to Anon’s side. She could repeat the experience with a more mature partner. She shook the thought.

Anon uttered the occasional, appreciative “ooh” or “ah”. He was such a tourist. He’d told her this part of the city was new to him. His several stays in Fillydelphia had been short, a few weeks at most, and “right to business”, whatever that meant. Starlight had the luxury of deciding in what part of town they’d stay, and she knew no corner better than this campus. The rooms would be cheaper than staying downtown, and she could show Anon her favorite haunts. Besides, it was on campus that she needed to complete the next stage of their flagging apology tour.

Starlight paused before a brown, clock tower topped building. It was a monolith, a brick behemoth whose dark windows and yawning double doors were myriad eyes and a mouth ready for supper.

Anon stopped beside her, hands in his pockets. “Reminds me of Old Main from my college days.”

“It’s the thaumatology building,” Starlight said.

“Huh. Seems like an oxymoron. Why’d we stop here?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m surprised. It hasn’t really changed,” Starlight said. “I spent so much time here. Honestly, the place still intimidates the heck out of… Hey! Where are you going?”

Anon was half-way up the stairs. He paused and looked toward her. “I’m going to check it out. You coming?”

Starlight flattened her ears. “Maybe we should find a room first.”

“And walk all the way back later? No way, we’re right here.” Anon frowned. “You okay, fam?”

“I…” Starlight shifted. It was just a building, nothing to be afraid of. Just a big, soul sucking building, the epicenter of bad decisions and broken dreams. Starlight swallowed. “I’m coming.”

They entered together. The high ceiling was a painted mural of Celestia bestowing books to outstretched hooves. Starlight always thought it melodramatic, if well done. Anon put his hands on his hips and stared up.

“Her butt’s way bigger than that.”

“Anon!” Starlight started to chide, but then she looked, too. “Actually, yeah.”

“Tell her it’s impossible, absolutely impossible!” A deep, irate voice echoed through the hall, accompanied by two sets of hooves. “And her persistence makes it no more possible.” Starlight recognized the voice; it snatched her eyes from mural-Celestia’s rear. Two stallions, both unicorns, rounded the corner. The first was stout and red with a blonde ducktail beard and wearing black robes. The second was a slim, blue unicorn in a sweater vest with a yellowish grey mane. It was the red stallion’s voice she heard: Professor Medraut. The other pony, Top Marks, had his eyes to a parchment.

“The alumni association won’t be pleased,” Top Marks said.

“They can keep their bits. I educated half those fussbudgets myself, so they should know better.” Medraut paused when he saw Starlight. She wanted to shrink, to disappear, but that would have been wiser if it weren’t retrospect.

“Is that… Starlight Glimmer?” Medraut said. He trotted to her and beamed. “As I live and breathe, it is.”

“Hello, professor.” Starlight said. She offered her hoof like it was a job interview, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I can’t believe it, how many moons has it been? And what’s this?” He looked at Anon. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a specimen like this. Is it yours?”

Anon sighed.

“Professor, the meeting,” Top Marks said.

“Right, right. Starlight Glimmer, you remember Top Marks. Or were you still a lecturer in Canterlot then, Marks?”

Top Marks nodded his head at Starlight. “Charmed. We met once, I believe. You were researching cutie marks with the professor?”

“I… I was,” Starlight wanted to be anywhere else.

“I daresay I was researching with her,” Medraut said. “Starlight, did you ever solve that transposition conundrum? I had some thoughts on it myself, or did a number of moons ago. I always return to a perdurantist account when studying the destiny versus talent problem.”

“Professor? The meeting?” Top Marks said.

“Oh, right, right. Starlight meet me at my office tomorrow around midday. I have a lot to discuss with you.”

“Well I…”

“Excellent, I’ll see you then. Now as I was saying, we can rely on grant funding for the time being…” Medraut and Top Marks continued down the hall. The professor’s voice petered off.

“What the hell just happened?” Anon said, staring in the direction they’d disappeared.

Starlight lowered her head. “Academia.” She felt sick. Thank Celestia her stomach was empty.

--

They rented a room at The Horsehead, an inn across from the performing arts building, near the campus center. It was a good-sized room. The carpet was generic, rough enough to wonder if it still had its natural texture or was so caked with dirt and fluids that it’d grown stiff. At least it smelled clean. There was a dresser along the wall beneath a painting of a field and fence, and by the curtained window was a small table with two cushions. They had a bit to eat, but Starlight’s anxious stomach left little room hunger, and Anon hadn’t eaten a large meal since his surgery; said it wasn’t worth the cramps.

They laid together in bed. Anon flipped through his black book while Starlight scratched at parchment and poured over Principles of Thaumaturgy. He’d told her not to worry a few times, words that betrayed he didn’t understand why she was worried.

“We’re only talking about the guy who leads the nation in cutie mark research,” Starlight said. “You don’t meet with him unprepared.”

“Can I just point out you’re not being graded,” Anon replied.

“It doesn’t matter.” Starlight paused. She scanned the last line she’d written, then scratched it out. “I’ve got to do this, and I need to make sure I know my stuff.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll make this smoother.”

“What?”

“Talking it out with him.”

“Is that important?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it was his research I stole before founding Our Town.”

Anon closed his book. “Oh.” He rolled onto his side, facing her. “So… Studying, huh?”

“And the worst part is, I don’t even think he realizes what he discovered.”

“What do you mean?”

Starlight looked at her hoof. How could she explain without using technical language? Anon was an idiot, but he wasn’t dumb, just magic illiterate. “Sometimes a pony’s magical talent is outstripped by what they know.”

“What, like they know spells they can’t cast?”

“Sort of.” Starlight looked at him. He looked curious, it was cute. She liked this face more than disinterest. “You can’t really know what you can’t cast. It doesn’t work like that. Magic has both a conscious and an intuitive dimension. If you can’t cast a spell, you don’t know it fully.”

“Sounds kind of like math,” Anon said. “It’s one thing to know a concept, but unless you can adapt it concretely, you don’t understand.”

Starlight nodded, proud of him for the analogy. “Kind of like that. You might master channeling, focus, and incantation, but it doesn’t mean anything if you can’t adapt it.”

“How come he didn’t realize what he discovered, then?” Anon asked.

“Everything he’d written about transferring cutie marks was right, but he couldn’t test it. Or he could, but his test failed. The spell didn’t work for him.”

“But it did for you?”

Starlight nodded. “With a few adjustments. Honestly, I’m not sure how many ponies it could work for. It’s pretty high-level magic.”

Anon shrugged. “That sounds alright then. I mean, it seems like you completed it for him, right?”

“Yes… But what did I use it for?” Starlight felt her anxiety flare again. “What will he say when he knows that part?”

Anon wrapped his arm around her. She lowered her quill and snuggled into him, facing away. She let exasperation slip her lips.

“Remember when we first met?” Anon asked, fingers brushing up and down her barrel.

“How can I forget? Small villages don’t get a lot of visitors, least of all bipedal visitors.”

“You told me you’d created harmony,” Anon said.

Starlight felt a flash of embarrassment. What was he getting at? She wanted to pull away, but the way he caressed her body felt affectionate, comforting. She decided to trust where he was steering the conversation. “Yes, I remember saying that.”

“You said it was because no one was more special than anyone else. But that was bullshit.”

Starlight flinched. Her time in Our Town was far behind her, but it still stung to hear him speak of it that way, as though she didn’t have enough regrets. She tried to slip out of his grip, but he tightened it, firm but gentle.

“Wait, I’m not done,” Anon said. “It was bullshit because of you. Because there is nothing you can do to remove what’s special about you.”

“What?” she said. It came out more protest than question.

Anon was quiet for a bit. She imagined he was thinking. His fingers continued their stride against her chest. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “You’re decisive, direct, impulsive. That stuff has nothing to do with your cutie mark.”

Starlight looked to him. He met her eyes. The idiot had no idea the flame he was fanning in her chest.

“But since you moved to Ponyville, you’ve been different,” he said.

Starlight’s heart skipped. “Different how?”

Anon’s eyes grew a little sad. “You’re… more diffident.”

Diffident? What did he… It hit her. On the Stage in Stableton, in the basement with Ms. Chloride, hours before with Medraut. What if she had just acted? And there was one more place she’d been hesitating.

“It’s been happening more lately,” Anon continued. “Whatever else changes about you, I hope you never lose—”

Starlight lifted her head and kissed him. For a moment he was tense, then his hand found her cheek. That flame was a wildfire now. Her worry, her guilt, her shame; they were wisps in that moment. There were his lips, his embrace, and her desire.

The kiss lingered. Starlight was afraid of what would happen when it ended. But it had to end. They separated, though neither hurried. She held her eyes trained to his chest until he directed her face upward. His expression was as unsure as she felt. She thought she should say something.

“Not bad for a first kiss?” she smiled, heart beating in her teeth.

Anon frowned. “Er, not technically our first…”

“Huh?” The reservoir flashed through her mind. “Oh, right.” She deflated, but Anon took her hoof.

“But it’s the best second kiss I’ve ever had,” he said.

Starlight rolled toward him and pressed her nose to his chest. She would do it just like that, then; she would admit what she did and feel better, whatever the consequences. And then when she was done, she’d come back and spend time with her coltfriend.

--

When Anon awoke, Starlight was atop him, muzzle in his neck. He ran his fingers down her back and she shivered, and her breath tickled his neck. It was a good night. He’d awoken a few times and found her in some new position against him. At some point she must have crawled atop him.

They were beneath the covers, comfortable but confined. He wanted to do something for her that morning, but he needed her off first. He wrapped her with his arms and rolled. He had to watch her hooves, splayed out around his chest and legs, but he managed. When she was on her side against the mattress, she grumbled at him, so he kissed her lips and stroked her mane. This seemed to placate her and she nestled her head into the pillow. Anon slipped from beneath the sheets, dressed, and left the room.

They’d spent the night before talking. Just talking. What a strange thing, to talk with someone and never lose a thread, and always have another topic. Who fell asleep first was unclear, but if their bodies willed it, they could have talked forever, or that’s how it felt to him. She told him about her college days; about her on-and-off love affair with heavy metal; how she imagined herself a guitarist or a lead singer, and her brief stint in a band; and about the campus café in which she had the same breakfast every morning: a wheat bagel with hazelnut spread and a latte. It was this last bit that concerned him that morning. He wanted to bring her breakfast in bed.

The café to which she referred was still open, and it was in the spot she described. Students and professors alike were inside, in line or at tables. Anon got in line, too. It moved like a machine, and he’d ordered and sat at a table near the counter before ten minutes had passed. He thought about Starlight’s face when she woke to her old breakfast, and about how good he felt that morning, and about the last time he’d felt that way about a relationship.

He looked down. He also felt awkward, embarrassed, exposed. Unlike himself. When his order was finished, he approached the barista. She was a cute mare, a Pegasus, purple with a golden mane. She blushed at him when she spoke. He looked at her rear. It was nice, better than most. They chatted a little as he held the bagel bag and the coffee. He told her he was free later and asked if she wanted to grab lunch with him. She agreed.

Anon left the café. He felt a bit better, a bit more natural, but also worse, dirty. He tried to rationalize his decision, like he had so many times before. The same consolation played in his mind, but it was hollow.

When he returned to the room, Starlight was still asleep. He placed her breakfast on the table near the window and sat on the bed beside her. She was beautiful, too beautiful for this world or any other. He leaned over her and kissed her ear. It flicked. His heart swelled. There was a rotting pit in the core of his stomach, and it wasn’t his spear wound.