Black is the color of our dresses.  Black is the color of their suits.  Black is the color of the mood.  It’s amazing how much color affects us.  For example: when you see yellow, don’t you feel happy?  There is something about them that messes with our minds, making us feel a certain way.  At the moment, the color that was affecting me was black.  The color of death, the color of mourning… the color of sadness.  

Here we all sit, under a temporary canopy in a luscious green field jutted with small, stone markers.  Each marker has writing engraved on it with the names of ponies, the year they were born, and the year they died.  Only a small reminder of the life they once lived.

I am here today with Vinyl, Bluebelle and my father to pay our respects to Fancy Pants.  Not long ago, his father, Lord Goldmane, had passed away.  It came as a shock to all of us.  The stallion was in fairly good health for his age, but he was still old and suffered from the ailments that old-age caused.  With all the stress he must have been under with his day to day activities, it’s no wonder his heart had failed him.  

Here, under the canopy, sat two dozen ponies.  Their heads are down, minds full with grief or sorrow.  Behind them some distance away stood a crowd of ponies, they, too, shared the other's grief, mourning in much the same way.  In front of the row of seats stands a podium.  One pony stands on it, while two others flank him on the left and right.  The one on the right is a pony that needs no introduction.  All know of his heritage, his contribution to society, his compassion, and his power.  Fancy Pants is a shining example of what a noble should be.  He put everypony before himself, never caring about how much benefit his end will receive.  Money was always an afterthought to him.  He was never swayed by bribery or blackmail.  With such a powerful influence he has, it's good to know that power is given to a pure heart.  The Kingdom will benefit in years to come because of his actions.

Standing opposite of him is my father.  Father never partook much in the affairs of politics, but he kept a close friendship with Fancy Pants' father.  A close friendship I wasn't even aware of until recently.  I always thought that those two were business acquaintances, from what father has told me, but apparently not.  Father and Lord Goldmane were apparently like brothers.  Why such a secret friendship was kept hidden from me for so long is something I can't explain, but soon I wish to find out.  

The pony standing on the podium is a member of the Celestial Clerics, a holy order of priests that spread the influence of the Holy Light across the Kingdom.  He wore a pristine white and gold trimmed robe that seems to shine with internal light.  In front of him, in his magical grasp, is a black book.  I assume it's one of the many tomes these zealots carry with them everywhere, filled with prayers.  They're almost like spellbooks for mages, but with holy powers instead of arcane.

Throughout the whole funeral, I listened to the priest as he recited various prayers.  I took a glance over at the coffin, which is now glowing with a soothing light.  The priest waves his hoof over the coffin one last time, and the light dissipates.  “May his spirit rest in peace.”  The priest says.  “And may Celestia's Light be with you all.”  The priest then steps down from the podium and Fancy Pants takes his place.

He stands silent on the podium to collect his thoughts.  He does not sob or sniffle.  He just has this solemn look on his face, but he remains unbroken.  He was like a statue, frozen in the middle of grief, unable for his emotions to either grow, or shrink.  After a few tense moments of silence, Fancy Pants thanked the priest and began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming here today.”  He says, voice strained and tired.  “My father was a stallion whose life should be an example of who a noble should be.  His actions were not of greed or selfishness—but of heart and generosity.  I know for a fact that his deeds will never be forgotten, and that someday I wish I could live up to his name.”  He pauses for a few seconds.  “My father was always such a simple man with a...different view on life.  He’s asked me to relay a message for everypony in his will once he has passed.  It reads ‘Do not be saddened over my death, instead, honor me for the life that I have lived, instead of the life I should have lived.’”  Fancy Pants chuckles lightly.  “He always had an optimistic view on everything, even on his deathbed.”  

The thought never occurred to me, but the aspect of celebrating his life rather than mourning his death appealed to me.  It makes sense.  Instead of filling your heart with grief or remorse, be happy in knowing that they lived a good and fulfilling life.  Pondering on what they could have been is equivalent to asking ‘what if’ to an event that already passed.  

Fancy Pants glances at the coffin.  “Father… I love you, and I’ll miss you.  And I will continue your legacy and make you proud.  May the Light guide your spirit to peace.”  With that, he steps down the from the podium, my father taking his place.

Fancy Pants’s speech made me think… What truly was important?  When you leave this world, all you really leave behind is your legacy.  Your wealth and power don’t mean anything, unless your successor is worthy of it.  What matters more is what impact you leave behind.  

My father clears his throat and begins to speak.  “Goldmane was a very dear friend of mine.  He stuck with me for years, never leaving my side.  Even when he was elected for Grand Magister, he didn’t falter.  Now, I’m not much of a politician, myself, and I never did understand all this political’ mumbo-jumbo, but I still stuck by him to help at anytime he needed, or give him council.  Mainly, I wanted him to lower taxes… but that never happened.” The crowd chuckled slightly at the comment, lightening the mood, if only slightly.  “He was a great stallion and an amazing friend, unlike any other.”  He turns to the coffin and gently ran a hoof along it’s smooth surface.  “I will miss you, my old friend.  Say, ‘Hello’ to my wife for me, eh?”  Another round of chuckles rippled through the crowd.

My father steps down from the podium, allowing another pony to take his place and say a few words.  I do not know this mare, but I think it’s a good assumption that she is Goldmane’s wife.  She is an older mare with a slightly graying mane and a look of absolute sorrow written all over her face.

While the widow is saying her words, father slips into the crowd and takes a seat next to me.  I give him a sidelong look, saying, ‘you have some explaining to do’.  He merely shrugs.  

The funeral is over within the hour.  We all gave one last goodbye to the deceased, and started to head for home.  

“Missus Octavia, Vinyl, Bluebelle and Mr.  Arpeggio, could you excuse me for a moment?”  We turn our heads to see the priest waving us back.  We all turned to each other, nodding in unison before heading towards him.  

“Yes?”  My father asks.

The priest clears his throat and levitates a piece of paper in front of him.  “Lord Goldmane has requested the four of you for the reading of his will.”

I turn to father, confused.  I wonder what’s so important that I, or even Vinyl, would need to be present for this?

“If you would all follow me to the funeral home.”

(\/);,,;(\/)

Within the confines of the funeral home is the priest’s personal office.  It's cozy, almost giving a homely aura.  Inside, a desk, bookshelf, and small portable television set are found.  The six of us, Vinyl, Bluebelle, my father, Fancy Pants and his mother and I, sit on a couch adjacent to the television, awaiting the priest to show us the video-will.

Using his magic, the priest levitates a small disc into a television set.  After a second or so of static, an image of Goldmane sitting on a chair with a glass of whiskey in his grasp, appears.

"If you are seeing this then I have, sadly, passed."  He pauses to sip from his whiskey.  “It was inevitable; my heart wasn’t going to last forever.  Ah well, all good things must come to an end eventually, right?”  He sips from his whiskey again.  “I am so glad I did a video-will, it seems more...  personal than a written one, wouldn’t you say?  You can see me and hear me one last time.  Thank you, honey, for giving me this idea.

“Now, on to business.  I—actually, hold on.  Octavia, play that one bit from that one movie with the ship when it was sinking, I think it’ll set the mood quite nicely.”

I look around to see the others with their eyes on me and amused smirks on their mouths.  I can only sigh.  Even on his deathbed, Goldmane is still the jokester.

The image of Goldmane shakes his hoof.  “Actually, nevermind.  I can do it myself.”  He claps his hooves together, and soft, moody music plays through the speakers.  “That’s more like it."

“Alright first off, son!”

Fancy Pants shifts slightly at the mention of ‘son’ rather loudly.

“As you know, with my passing, it will be expecting of you to take my place as my successor.  Now, you are not obligated to do so, and don’t feel pressured at all to do so if you don’t want to.  My position is elected, not earned through any ‘right of succession’ thing.  You may run if you wish, but just know that you don’t have to, alright?  I love you son, don’t you ever forget that.  And no matter what path you choose to follow, I will still be proud of you.

"Next, my darling wife, Scarlet Gown." Goldmane pauses, seeming to be momentarily lost in thought.  “First off, I’m going to need more whiskey for this.  What?  Can’t I have my fun before I die?”  He pauses to sigh.  "In all seriousness though, I...  I have taken a long time to think about what I wanted to say, and I couldn't think of anything.  There is no words for how happy I have been to call you my wife, and every moment that we shared was one I will treasure.  I...  please, I don't want my passing to become a burden on you.  Don’t tie yourself down because of me.  Live the rest of your life free and happy.  Remember: it’s till death do us part.  I love you, Scarlet.”

From behind me, I can hear sniffling and sobbing coming from Scarlet.

“Next on the list.  Octavia, I grant my entire collection of playcolt magazines to you, mint condition."

My eye twitches, and Vinyl won’t stop laughing at me.  Curse you, old man.  

“Wow, Tavi, lucky you!  Can I get take a peek at some of those?" Vinyl says through her fit of laughter.

I calmly sigh.  “Vinyl, sweetie, need I remind you that you are in one of the playcolt magazines?”

She stops laughing immediately, remembering that dreadful day when she was in dire need of bits.

The priest looks at both of us with an expression of both shock and disgust.  "Am I in the house of sin?!" He blurts out, storming out of the office and mumbling to himself about how, 'this world has gone to Tartarus.'

“Priests are fun, aren’t they?”  Goldmane states as if he knows what has happened.  I wonder if he is related to Pinkie Pie…  “If he’s still in the room that statement would be kinda embarrassing.  Eh, but what do I care, I’m dead!

“Now, back to business.  Octavia, the past few months have been kind to you.  You’ve gotten your musical career back on track, a feat that very few in that industry can accomplish.  I knew you could do it, Tavia.  However, you still aren’t completely back in the spotlight.  So, to correct that, I have convinced the Royal Staff to allow you and your ensemble to perform at this years Grand Galloping Gala, again, as a kind of... come back appearance.”

I gasp, so shocked from the news that I cling on to Vinyl’s midsection, causing her to release a squeak of surprise.  I’m going to perform at the gala again?!  Oh, sweet Celestia, this is marvelous news!  I haven't been to the Gala in years!  And the last time I was there it was a disaster!  This will be my chance to climb back to the top and stay there!  I can’t believe that just happened to me; I must be dreaming.

The image of Goldmane holds his hoof out in front of him.  “Calm down there, filly.  Take it easy, deep breaths now."

I take his advice, taking deep breaths.  Vinyl seems to be doing the same, taking deep breaths...  or are those gasps for air?  No matter.

Goldmane clears his throat.  “Alright then.  Vinyl, are you still alive?  Or did your fillyfriend suffocate you by now?  If you are, I have a message for you: I kept a crowbar hidden in the priest's desk for you.”  He chuckles, “Nah, just kidding, but I do have something else in there, though.  Take a look.”

Vinyl quickly looks at me.  “Tavi?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Please...  let me go...  can’t...  breathe!”

I roll my eyes.  Honestly, she should be tough enough to take a few minutes without oxygen.  I let her go, and her face soon turns back to it’s normal white color.

“Frikin'...  earth pony...  strength.”  She mutters between gasps while approaching the desk.  Opening each drawer one-by-one, she soon stumbles upon apparently what she is supposed to find.  She levitates a small envelope with her name and cutie-mark written on it.  Tearing it open, four small tickets float from inside.

“Those are four tickets to a luxurious cruise aboard the Lunar Dream.  Think of it as a ‘thank you’ for all you guys have done for me and my family.”

I observe the tickets with envy.  The Lunar Dream is the largest airship ever built.  It used to be a Pegasi warship, built about eighty years back when negotiations with the griffons were tense, but was decommissioned soon after relations had settled down.  A few years ago, when Princess Luna returned, it was re-instated as a cruise ship and re-named in her honor.

Vinyl lifts up her glasses, rubs her eyes and puts them back as she reads the tickets.  “Woah, two whole weeks on this thing?!  Heeeeeelll, yeah!”

“Hold on.”  Father states, “There’s only four tickets.”  He looks over to Fancy Pants and Scarlet.  “Won’t you two be joining us?”

Fancy Pants shakes his head.  “I wish I could, but I’m afraid I’ll be too busy to take a whole two weeks off.  Same with mother.  We still need to do some more things regarding father’s funeral, among other deeds.”

“Well,” the image of Goldmane starts, “now that everything is all worked out, I have one last thing to say.  Arpeggio, my dear friend, I have a message for you, and only you.  I ask that everypony leave the room for just a minute.”

I look at father, confused.  Why does Goldmane want to tell father something alone?  He looks back at me with just as much confusion, apparently not knowing what he wants to tell him either.  

“Come on, now,” Goldmane continues, “It’ll only be for a minute.  Go on, get outta here!”

Fancy Pants and Scarlet are the first to get up.  “Come on everypony, the sooner we leave the sooner this will all be over.” He says as he’s leaving.  Vinyl, Bluebelle and I soon follow.

“So what’s going on?”  I ask once we’re outside.  

Fancy Pants shrugs, “Beats me.  Those two were always secretive.  I wasn’t even aware of their friendship until recently.”

I blink.  “Wait, you didn’t know either?  Seriously, what is going on with them?!”

“Think about it,” Vinyl starts.  “Two very powerful stallions, one being the Grand Magister, the other being a Mafia Don, working together to create the perfect crimes!  One deals with the political aspects on a larger scale while the other deals with smaller infrastructure.  Goldmane can keep tabs low on papa’s actions by averting the Council's attention elsewhere, and papa can relay very subtle laws that help his side out in the long run.  The perfect conspiracy!”

Ponies always wonder why I have a large, hoof-shaped bruise on my forehead.  Fillies and gentlecolts, this is why.  “Vinyl…”  I say slowly, “for the last time: father is not in the Mafia!”

“Weeeeeelll, with all the secret-y stuff he’s been doing lately, I’m startin’ to get a little bit suspicious...”  She replies.  “I mean, it would be totally awesome if he was in the Mafia.”

The unforgettable twitching sensation returns to bother my eye.  Deep breathes, Octavia.  “Vinyl, please.  We’ll get answers eventually.  Just try not to overthink this, alright?”

She scoffs and waves her hooves up in the air dismissively.  “Jus’ don’ come crying to me when the canary don’ sings, dig?” She said in probably the worst mafia accent ever attempted by pony or other species.

“I’ll try my best to resist the urge to carry you, kicking and screaming, up to the top of Canterlot Castle just to push you off...”

“What is with you and pushing me off cliffs?”  She asked, giving me a questioning look.

I shrug, “We conveniently live on top of a mountain.  It seems fit.  And I know about your fear of falling, so both the fear and physical harm mix into the perfect combination.”

She only mumbles incoherently in reply.

“You know, for a loving couple, you two seem pretty...  toxic, towards each other.”  Fancy Pants inquiries.

“Eh,” Vinyl replies casually, “It’s normal.”

Fancy raises an eyebrow.  "Oh, really, now?  Well, I don't want to question anything, but I feel as though bodily harm and threat of death does seem a little bit...  unstable, I guess."

“Hey, look here man,” Vinyl starts, raising her voice and getting defensive.  I soon feel a firm foreleg wrap around my shoulder and pull me close to her.  “No matter how many threats we throw at each other, I still love Octavia all the same.  I don’t need no fancy-shmancy, monkey-suit wearing prancy to tell me how to love my mare!”

Fancy smiles.  "And that's what I wanted to hear, Vinyl.  I know you two are perfect for each other, and your reaction only reinforces my case." Fancy begins.  "But, I would like to to ask you to refrain calling me a 'fancy-shmancy, monkey-suit wearing prancy.'"

“That’s right now— wait a second…”  Vinyl pauses, slowly bringing her hoof from my withers back to the ground.  “I just noticed something...  two things, actually.”  She leans in to whisper in my ear, “So, I just insulted the man at his father’s funeral,” No longer whispering in my ear, Vinyl points an accusing hoof to Fancy Pants, “Second, how did you know we're together?!  Before I admitted it, of course.”

Fancy Pants chuckles, “It’s not hard to see, really—it's hardly a secret.  Especially when father...  spilled the beans, so to say, during his video will.”

“What?!  When?”

“When Octavia was suffocating you,” He states, matter-of-factly, “father asked if you were ‘still alive’.  I swear, you two are so in love that you fail to notice these things sometimes.”

Should I interject...  nah, this is too entertaining.  I’ll just sit here and enjoy the show.

Blushing profoundly, Vinyl attempts to utter a comeback, but she only manages to stutter nonsense.  In one last desperate attempt, Vinyl once again waves her hoof dismissively, grabs me by the shoulder again, and pouts.

She’s too adorable sometimes.  

Fancy Pants looks over her with confusion, “I don’t understand why you’re so secretive about it.  It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it.”

“It’s...  complicated.”  I say, finally joining the conversation.  “Vinyl thinks that if word got out that a DJ is romantically involved with me, it would ruin my reputation, thus making it impossible for me to climb back up to what I once was.  It’s stupid, but noble."

He smiles.  “I would have to agree with you–" Vinyl groans "–on the noble aspect, of course.  However, Vinyl is correct in her own way.  High class ponies do tend to… overreact when it comes to things like this.  Such a scandal would not be good for your name, Octavia.”

With that said, Vinyl beams with pride.  “Told you!”  Then frowned.  "Crap, I was right..."  Vinyl glared at Fancy with all that she could muster with those glasses on.  “Not a word–”

“Oh, I can assure you—not a soul will know about it from me.”  He interjects immediately, cutting off Vinyl mid-sentence.  

Vinyl sighs with relief.  “Good.”

The door suddenly swings open, and father emerges from the room.  There is a trace of a solemn expression on his features, but he quickly regains his composure by clearing his throat and running a hoof through his mane.  “Well, now that that’s all settled, how’s about we all go home and have a nice lunch?”

“Sounds good to me!”  Vinyl practically yells.

Father turns to Fancy and Scarlet, “Would you two care to join us?”

Fancy politely shakes his head.  “Sorry, but I still have matters to attend to here.  Thank you all for coming, though.  I truly appreciate it.”

“It was no problem at all, Fancy.  Take care now, and good luck.”  With that said, father shakes Fancy’s hoof and hugs Scarlet before leaving.  

I then approach Fancy to say my goodbye.  “I’m so sorry, Fancy.  May your father rest in peace.”  I lean in and hug the stallion, “And remember, if you ever need anything, we’re always here for you.”

“Thank you so much, Octavia.  And to you as well, Vinyl.  Try to keep the death threats to a minimal, please?  I’d rather not have two funerals in such short notice.”

Both Vinyl and I look down in shame.  I can’t believe it took me this long to realize how insensitive we were being…  I feel terrible, now.  Our mere jesting was completely inappropriate, given the situation.  Death threats at a funeral?!  Terrible.

“Sorry about that, Fancy.”  Vinyl says, pawing shamefully at the ground.  “And also sorry for calling you a ‘fancy-shmancy, monkey-suit-wearing prancy’.”  

Fancy gave us both a reassuring smile.  "Do not worry, I know your comments were all in good fun.  In all honesty, it helped to lighten the mood, if anything.”  

We both sigh in relief.

Fancy turns his attention away from us, and to the mare who had been sitting quietly the entire time.  “Ah, Bluebelle isn’t it?  I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.”  He holds his hoof out to her, and she instantly recoils slightly, closing her eyes.  Fancy's reaction was immediate—pulling back his hoof and taking a step back.  "I'm terribly sorry, miss!"

Bluebelle took a deep breath once the stallion backed away, giving her back her comfort zone.  She opens her mouth to try and utter something, but fails and continues to silently stare at the floor.  Vinyl finally notices her mother's discomfort, and rushes to her side.  

“Yep, this is my mom, Bluebelle.  Alright, we good?  Bye, Fancy, see ya later!" She answers, holding her mom close and walking her towards the exit, leaving me alone with Fancy and the rest.

The former looks completely confused.  “Did...  did I do something wrong?”  He asks, looking for clarification.

I shake my head.  “No, it’s not your fault.  Bluebelle just...  well, she’s had an issue with a stallion in the past, though I feel it is not my right to elaborate, as it is quite private."

He nods in understanding.  “Very well.  Just do please tell her 'I’m sorry' and that I meant her no harm.”

I smile, reassuringly, “I’m sure she knows that.  Though, I shall tell her anyways.  Well then, if we’re all settled here, I best be going, now.”

“Of course.  Take care, Octavia.”

“You too, Fancy.”

As I walk outside the funeral home into the warm afternoon sun, I notice that the undertakers have nearly finished burying Goldmane’s casket.  The large crowd of ponies still linger, though most are gone.  Vinyl is a few yards away coaxing her mother still I assume, and father is right outside the door.

“Do you think she’ll always be like that?”  He asks suddenly.

I take a moment to answer, “Maybe.  She might not ever get over her fear of stallions, but maybe in due time I believe it will ease down.”

He nods in understanding, “Come on, let’s go home—I’m starving.”

(\/);,,;(\/)

The aroma of fresh herbs and spices fills the air inside the house.  If there’s anything that can cheer you up after a depressing day, it’s Bluebelle’s cooking.  This mare is gifted.  I’ve never eaten anything so good before she moved in with us.  Such a shame culinary skills aren’t genetic; Vinyl can’t cook to save her life.

Once we are all seated, none of us hesitate to dig into our plates.  Bluebelle seems to have gotten over her… incident with Fancy, returning almost completely back to normal.  I knew that her relationship with Bulldoze would have a lasting impact, but until now I hadn’t known how bad it would be.  I kept my eyes on her as we ate, pitying the mare and what she’d been through.  I want to do something to help her, but what could I do?  

“Sweet Celestia, mom, this is so good!”  Vinyl says through a mouthful of food.

Bluebelle frowns, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie.”  She says automatically.  “And thank you!”

Vinyl grumbles at the motherly comment, but says nothing more as she returns to her meal.  I quietly chuckle at the display.  Being the delicate mare that she is, Bluebelle doesn’t hesitate to be strict or protective towards Vinyl.  I guess maternal instincts triumph over fear.

“I must agree with Vinyl.”  Father starts, “This meal is fantastic!  You never fail to impress me, Bluebelle.”

Bluebelle keeps her gaze focused on her plate, “Oh, th-thank you, Arpeggio.”  I can see the faintest trace of a smile tugging on the corners of her lips.  She quickly jabs her fork into a slice of mango and continues eating to re-compose herself.

Even after knowing my father for almost seven months, Bluebelle is still extremely jittery around him.  She’s very much aware of this fact, and knows that he is not a threat, but she can’t help but be frightened.  And it’s only toned down minutely.  Even with the help of her support group, it’s still not enough to keep her calm.  She even had to quit her job after only two weeks.  It’s almost like an instinct on it’s own--to just naturally be afraid of stallions.  

My train of thought halts as a familiar feeling rushes through me.  From beside the dinner table, a small stream of fog encircles a spot on the floor.  The fog quickly expands until a thin layer covers the entire room.  My ears perk up.  There’s a strange sound coming from seemingly out of nowhere.  It almost sounds like symbols.  

Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk.

All four of us jump in our seats as a heavy guitar riff echoes through the house.  It’s not deafeningly loud, but still enough to give me a migraine.  After a few seconds of guitar chords, a brief flash of light fills the room.

“Back in black!  I hit the sack!  I’ve been too long; I’m glad to be back!  Yes I am!  Let loose, from the noose, that’s kept me hangin’ about.  I keep looking at the sky cause it's gettin' me high; forget the hearse cause I'll never die!  I got nine lives, cat's eyes, using every one of ‘em and runnin' wild!  ‘Cause I'm back!  Yes, I'm back!  Well, I'm back!  Yes, I'm back!  Well I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack!  Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!  Well I'm back in black!  Yes, I'm back in blaaaaaaaack!”

Oh, joy… Moondancer’s here...

“That’s right, Fillies and Gentlcolts!  The one!  The only!  The-hey!”  She says, before getting a face full of food.

“Booo!  The original was better!” Vinyl cries, looking for something else to throw.

Moondancer, unceremoniously, wipes the food off of herself and glares at Vinyl.  “Wow, rude, much?  You ruined my dramatic entrance!  And my cool new robe!”  Using a simple spell, she quickly cleaned the food off of her blue and gold trimmed robe.

“Moondancer,”  I say, “you haven’t graced us with your presence in… two weeks?  That’s a personal record, I believe.”

“Yes yes, I know you’ve all been dying for your daily dose of vitamin MD!  So now that I’m here… wait.”  She pauses and sticks her tongue out, tasting the trace amounts of food still on her muzzle.  “Is that,” she takes another taste, “Bluebelle’s cooking?!”  

In less than a second, she disappears, only to reappear beside Vinyl and I with a plate, fork, and knife in her magical grasp.  “So what do we got, what do we got?!  Is that kayle?!  Hells yeah!  Mango-peach turnover?  Hells yeah, again!  Oh, please tell me you got— oh you do!  Heeeeeeeeelllllls yeah!”

And, yet again, my bruised forehead only gets worse as my hoof smacks against it with enough force to make my brain hemorrhage.  I really need to check and see if there is a dent there...

After magically grabbing a hold of one of everything from the feast, Moondancer doesn’t hesitate to stuff her face and express her delight through a series of moans and expressions.

“It’s like an orgasm in my mouth!”

… I’m not hungry anymore.  Everypony else seems to feel the same way, as they all push away their plates in disgust.  Except Vinyl, but that was expected.  Bluebelle, father and I exchange confused glances as we still try and comprehend what just happened in the last three minutes.

I give up.  There’s really no reason to question Moondancer’s antics.  Trust me, she pops in so often she almost lives here, and I’ve gotten to know sides of her that I regret knowing.

It took all of seven minutes for Moondancer to finish eating.  She sighs in content and leans back in her chair.  “Ahhhhhhhh, that hit the spot!  I came at the perfect time!”

“Quite…”  I say.  

“Wow, damn.  I gotta hand it to ya’ Bluebelle, you are the best cook, ever.”

Bluebelle giggles.  “Thank you, Moondancer.  Did you save room for dessert?”

Moondancer’s eyes literally popped out of their sockets, only to be replaced by a new pair of eyeballs rolling from the back of her head into place.  “W-what kind of dessert?”

“Well, I’ve made a pecan pie—”

The Light of the heavens shines brightly.  An angelic choir echoes from the heavens.  Everlasting peace and enlightenment bless our bodies and souls with the gracefulness and beauty of life and afterlife.  Moondancer falls to her knees, bowing down gracefully to the Divine Presence that was Pecan Pie.  In that moment alone, everypony knew that our souls would only know eternal peace.  

“Moondancer?  You alright?”  Vinyl asks suddenly.  

To describe Moondancer right now would be like describing a cartoon character.  Her eyes are wide, stretching to unnatural size.  She continues to stare at the pie, almost like she’s in silent prayer to her god.  

Bluebelle, for her part, didn’t know how to react, simply standing there as a strange mare in front of her performed some sort of pre-pie ritual.  “Is this… normal?”  She asks, completely baffled beyond all belief.

“Not in my professional opinion,” father said, watching with rapt attention as Moondancer starts to light candles in a circle around the pie.

“Is she trying to summon a crazy pie spirit?” Vinyl asks.  “Because I’m not sure if I should be concerned… or excited.”

A second pie materialized on a small stone table above the first pie.  A butter knife is pulled from the dining table and placed vertically above the second pie.

“Ohhhhhh, she’s sacrificing the lesser pie.”  Vinyl says.

I raise a brow, “You make it sound like she’s done it before.”

She shrugs, “Eh, I tried… but it didn’t work…You gotta sacrifice a specific pie depending on the flavor of both pies.  There’s like a chart or something I remember her having.  Pieistans are precise like that.”

My brain can’t handle the stupidity and confusion of this!  “What’s going on?!”

“Apiecalypse!”  Moondancer yells in a sinister, deep voice that scares us all to the bone.  The butter knife fell upon the lesser pie, and a sickly green light spewed from the wound.  The light twisted in the air like it was in pain before being absorbed by the pecan pie.  The latter pie then grew six times in size.  

Moondancer smiles upon her successful offering.  “The pie gods are pleased!”  The room began to shake, and a bright light and what I could only describe as a tear appeared on the surface of the pie.  A loud, high pitch scream echoed through the walls.  Two hooves suddenly burst out of the tear in the pie.  

“Who dares summon me?!”  And out emerged the manifestation of all things sweet, random, and friendship herself.

Yes, Pinkie Pie just emerged from an oversized pecan pie, that grew from a ritual sacrifice of another pie, in the middle of my living room.

“I… I have done it… I have summoned the Pink One!” Moondancer turns to all of us, her eyes wide with an almost mesmerizing look in them.  “Do not worry… our savior is here.”

Pinkie looked around, before waving to Vinyl.  “Hey, Vinny!  How’s it been?”

Vinyl, somehow seeming not fazed by this… development, waved back at the pink mare.  “Hey, Pinks.” She says nonchalantly.  “Not bad, actually.”

Alright that’s it.  I.  Am.  Done!  “Father, I’m going to be staying with you for a few days...”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask.”

“Can I come?!” Says the Pink One.

“No!  Stay out of this, Tartarus spawn!”

She giggles.  “Silly Tavi.”  Her voice soon becomes very deep, and echoes like a demon.  “Tartarus couldn’t handle me…”

I could run out the door… but the window is closer…

“Octavia.”  Bluebelle whispers, “I’m scared.”

“We all are.”

“Wh-what do we do?”

“I don’t know...”

My father pulls out a wooden spoon from out of nowhere.  “We must kill the leader… it is the only way to end this…”

I deadpan.  “Father… you are seriously gonna try and kill a demon with a spoon…”

He turns to me, his eyes filled with panic.  “You got a better idea?!” He screams in a hushed whisper.

Well… he’s got me there.  “True… Shall I hold her down?”

Bluebelle slaps the both of us on the back of the heads with her hooves.  “Can we please figure out a better solution that doesn’t involve murder?!”

“You cannot stop it.”  Moondancer whispers in a ghost-like voice.  “The world will soon be consumed by the pie…”

“What have you done…?” I ask her.

“Whatcha doooooooing???” Pinkie Pie says, somehow managing to get into the middle of our huddle without being noticed.

“Kill her, now! Use the spoon!”  I scream, pointing a shaking hoof at the mare.

“Stop!”

Father’s hoof is wrapped in a blue aura, unable to move.  He cast his terrified gaze to Vinyl.  “What are you doing?!”

“Vinyl, stay out of this! This is for the good of all pony-kind!”  I retort, taking the spoon from my father and readying myself to finish the deed.

“You don’t understand.  There’s only one way to truly defeat the Pink One.”  She rushes to the table to pick up a covered tray.  “And here is the solution.”  She tosses the cover aside, revealing a dozen brown colored baked goods.

“Get away from me with those naked cupcakes!”  Pinkie screams, shuffling away from the plain confectionary.  As soon as one touches her skin, it begins to sizzle, smoking slightly.  Pinkie shrieks, howling like a bat-out-of-tartarus.  More muffins begin to make contact with her coat, causing even more sizzling and smoke.  “Nooooooo!  I’m melting!”   Pinkie finishes as she is engulfed by smoke. When it clears, only a single pink hair remains where the demon had once stood.

I turn to Vinyl.  “Is… is it over?”

She shakes her head.  “For now… but she will return.”

A groan escapes from Moondancer as she slowly rises from the floor, holding her head in pain.  “Ohhhhh, jeez… what happened?”

Vinyl puts a gentle hoof on her shoulder.  “You’re safe now…”  She turns to face the rest of us.  “We’re all safe.”

Next time somepony tries to perform a dark ritual in my house, pie related or other, I’m putting a wooden spoon threw their heart...

Moondancer stretches, cracks a few joints, and shakes her head.  “Wow, ok, I feel better.  You know, what did I come here for in the first place...?  Oh, yeah!”  In a quick flash of magic, sparks start to fly from Moondancer.  I hold up the wooden spoon in a battle pose… just in case.

She strikes a pose.  “Check out my sick robes!  Oh yeah, I look good!”  She turns around, “Check it!  Nice, huh?  Finally got my own certified Ley Keeper robes!  Mage swaaaaaag!  I am now a certified mage!  You can all applaud now, by the way.”

I slowly put the spoon down while father claps politely, “Congratulations, Moondancer!  That’s great news!”

Moondancer has passed all the test in order to be a mage?  Wow, that’s impressive.  Especially since she was the apprentice to Grand Magus Frostbite, who is, not only, one of the members of the Seven, but also has never had an apprentice before, period.  After… what was it?  Eight years?  She passed the final test.  

“I know, right!”  She exclaims, “These robes also come with a title.  You all will now refer to me as Ley Keeper Moondancer and only as Ley Keeper Moondancer.”  

I smirk as a thought comes to mind.  “And how would your elders respond to us telling them you summoned a Pie Demon?”

She instantly goes silent.

Yes, now I have you!

“Could you tell them I defeated the demon?  I might get another promotion if they hear that.”

I roll my eyes.

“Well then, Ley Keeper Moondancer, “ Bluebelle pipes in, giggling, “how’s about we celebrate!”

“I’m down!”  Vinyl says instantly.

“Perfect!  I’ll go make a cake—”

“NO!” We all scream in unison, fearing the possible summons of another confectionary-themed demon.

“How about we just go out drinking later tonight?”  Moondancer suggests.

After earlier, getting ‘smashed’, as Vinyl calls it, does not sound like a bad idea...

“I’m down.”  Father says.

“Me too.”  I say

“Me three.”  Bluebelle says.

“Me four.”  Vinyl says.  I give Vinyl a curious look.  “Still not drinking alcohol, but I’ll be there in spirit.”  

“Then it is decided!  I shall randomly pop in again later tonight!  For now, I bid you all adieu!”  With that, she disappears with a ‘pop’ of magic.

I clap my hooves together.  “Well, everypony, if you need me, I’ll be taking a nap.  A much deserved nap.”

(\/);,,;(\/)

Ahhhh… bedsheets.  The simplest, yet greatest comfort in this world.  It’s like being wrapped in a cocoon of all that is right with the world.  I sigh happily and allow my head to sink into the pillow.  I need this.  I need this so badly.

Oh, what a long, strange day it’s been.  First with Fancy’s father passing, then with me and Vinyl’s...rather rude conversation.  Even though Fancy Pants had forgiven us, it still seems wrong of me to have done it at a funeral in the first place.  Then I had to perform an exorcism.

My life is pretty much… interesting, to say the least.  I don’t know what more will be waiting for me in the future, but quite frankly, I’m curious.  Living with Vinyl has turned my life upside down, inside out, through a washing machine, and out a different dimension.  Havoc like today is slowly becoming a common occurrence.  And, to be honest, it’s kind of fun.  Almost like spicing up my life.  And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, I kind of want more.  

So, life, do your worst!