Trixie's Find


                                            >having thoroughly made a fool of herself (in Boast Busters), Trixie has left ponyville to find her luck elsewhere

                                            >soon money is running low, and she decides to go out into the wilderness to maybe find some treasure to sell

                                            >or at least some berries to have for lunch, but it can't hurt to be hopeful, right?

                                            >after a while she actually finds a hidden cave that looks promising and ventures into it

                                            >cobwebs everywhere, but no signs of dangerous creatures or bandits

                                            >reaching the bottom end, the walls and floor are adorned with symbols never seen before

                                            >at the center, burnt-down candles encircle an object, which much like the rest of the room and cave is obscured by cobwebs

                                            >a split second later she realizes what it is and recoils in shock

                                            >a pony body, sitting propped up by some pillows, not moving and making no noise

                                            >she eventually gets over her fear and comes closer

                                            >brushing aside the webs by hoof, she notices some things

                                            >it's a unicorn stallion, with a vacant expression on his face and colorless eyes staring idly ahead

                                            >his body shows no injury and is slightly warm (moreso than the cave), implying that whoever this is isn't dead (or worse yet, sacrificed) but in a coma

                                            >however, the cobwebs imply that he has been there for a while, and yet he doesn't show signs of starvation or dehydration

                                            >he isn't breathing either, but putting her head ti his chest she senses a faint, steady heartbeat

                                            >doesn't want to just let him stay in that old cave, so she carefully takes him, loads him onto her back and carries him out of that cave so she can care for him in her wagon


                                            >once out at sunlight, his fur color is more lively than in the gloomy cave, but the colorlessness of the eyes remains

                                            >she carries him home, opens up the wagon doors and puts the body down on the bed

                                            >over the next couple of days, she tries all all conceivable methods to wake him up

                                            >as futile and unlikely as they seem, she begins with attempting simple things, such as yelling, shaking him, and the classic vial of smelling salts

                                            >she even even tries giving him a whiff of her self-made food (made as nicely as she's able to, so not really that impressive), but none of it elucidates any reaction

                                            >it's time for new measures

                                            >from amidst the multitudinous items littering her wagon, she retrieves the only book in her sparsely equipped home library that can serve as some sort of medical compendium

                                            >an old, tattered copy of the grimoire Quackery And Quintessence, acquired for fairly cheap years ago and source of many of magical tricks in the stage show

                                            >it's got everything from magical spells, tricks and incantations to alchemical recipes, wisdoms, mystical tales and all sorts of other gubbins

                                            >among its pages, many of which are lined with notes and comments from Trixie and the previous owners, and interspersed by hoof-drawn papers and pages torn from other books, she hopes to find a cure for the unkown pony's disposition

                                            >the following weeks are filled with reading, pondering and note taking, but most of all the casting of spells, brewing of brews, chanting of chants, taking of naps and other activities

                                            >by the end, the Perplexed and Exhausted Trixie has not reached her goal

                                            >wake up spells were without effect, mind reading failed, not having produced a single thought or even snippet of a dream, the potions had shown none of the desired effect at all and all the dancing and chanting of the last days, albeit limited by the confines of the wagon, had just made her tired

                                            >the last straw broke when the ancient method of turning him off and on again (performed via a sleep spell followed by a wake spell) proved just as futile as the rest

                                            >at that point, she gave up, put the body into a corner and laid her distraught self onto the bed, facing the unfixable

                                            >her subject doesn't look all that good either, his fur is ruffled and most of all he now was purple, which in turn reminds Trixie of that accursed Twilight Sparkle who had brought her into this dilemma in the first place


                                            >Trixie continues her lonesome traveling

                                            >having given up in fixing him, the unfortunate body becomes almost like a part of her wagon's furniture

                                            >he is now usually seated in the corner, wearing Trixie's stage clothes which both hides him and gives a more proper appearance

                                            >sometimes she'll even take him into bed with her

                                            >not for anything inappropriate of course, just a bit of companionship through cold and lonely nights

                                            >she indeed is quite lonely by now, limiting interactions with others to the bare minimum, not even doing shows anymore

                                            >after all the failed attempts and being reminded of Twilight, she's made the realization that she couldn't ask for help, and maybe she shouldn't even be seen by other ponies anymore

                                            >not in case the disaster in ponyville has made the rounds, but for a far more serious risk

                                            >to anyone, and that included the law, it would look like she'd captured a poor citizen of Equestria and used his helpless body as a mix of target dummy for all sorts of spells and alchemical concoctions

                                            >"But constable, I didn't try the pages that had too many pentagrams" isn't gonna cut it if she wants to continue her life unpunished

                                            >to make things worse, over time these worries even start to give her horrible nightmares

                                            >more than once she awakes sweaty and with her heart pounding, to find that her neck is indeed still in one piece and neither sucked dry nor torn out by the innocent pony sat in the corner

                                            >it's clear: she has to get rid of this problem, and soon enough the opportunity does actually present itself


                                            >one day, distant clip-clop sounds from the way behind her rouse her out of yer thoughts

                                            >the road has just done a bend around a fairly steep hill, so she cannot yet see the source of the racket

                                            >but without doubt, the hoofsteps are accompanied by the metallic clanking noise of armor

                                            >"This is it.", Trixie notes with sad resignation, "They've got me."

                                            >with a steep incline on one side and open grasslands on the other, fleeing (especially with her wagon in tow) is out of the question, so she just waits for the inevitable

                                            >but how relieved is she when, instead of the royal guard, a far more curious sight emerges from around the hill

                                            >at first it is only two slightly rusted, but heavy pieces of armor, seemingly moving all on their own

                                            >this isn't the first time she's seen those, and sure enough the wagon they're pulling follows behind them


                                            >the traveling merchant has already identified Trixie from afar as well, and shortly after the armor pieces cease their movement as the noticably larger, red painted wagon (more of a stagecoach, to be exact) stops next to hers

                                            >"Oddie's Odd Odds and Ends" reads the wooden arched sign that adorns the top of the wagon's roof

                                            >the pony who was still sitting at the driver's seat now just jumps off

                                            >"Trixie, isn't it? So nice to see you!" she exclaims, and without waiting for an answer follows up "Hold on just a minute" as she pulls a leaver

                                            >at that, the sides and back of the wagon jump open into a horizontal position, making for impromptu desks

                                            >she enters the wagon through a door behind her, and rummages around in it

                                            >seconds later, the counters are laden with what is truly a feast for the eyes and inquisitive minds

                                            >all sorts of curiosities and magical trinkets, peculiar tools, strange foodstuffs and boxes that contain who-knows-what pile on the folded out boards

                                            >some objects appear new, pining for the viewers attention with their shiny surfaces, whereas most others look old, like they've been through a lot and maybe aren't being sold for the first time

                                            >the seemingly most normal, even if a bit worn, item is a gumball machine that stands its own little countertop

                                            >but on the second look, behind the glass sphere with the golden logo "Deus Ex Machina" hardly any of the balls are actual gumballs, and instead the contents, although their containers are all spherical in nature, easily match the other items on display in terms of unfathomable variety

                                            >"So, anything caught your eye? Or shall I maybe show you some of my newest additions?" the merchant pony's voice pulls Trixie out of her astonished ogling


                                            >"What? Oh, right. Sure!" Trixie replies, still half absent minded

                                            >Oddie immediately springs into action, picking out certain items one after the other

                                            >"Here, look at this!" she holds up a flat, wooden case

                                            "What's in there?"

                                            >"oh you'll see" she opens the case, inside are some little round, brown nuts

                                            >suddenly one jumps up, and steadily continues its skyward trajectory before Oddie plucks it out of the air with her magic, enclosing it in the container again

                                            >"Anti-gravitational jumping beans, the newest in pointless magic. Not interested? Don't worry, I have plenty more"

                                            >she wastes no time in showing off more goods with an inspiring enthusiasm

                                            >A collection of five beautiful quill pens in different colors, each came from a different pegasus, all five made in a renowned Cloudsdale manufactory

                                            >An antique dog bowl with log-effect exterior, blue glazed interior and golden rim, for the most discerning of canines

                                            >flea powder. Just add water, and there'll be plenty of lively little fleas in no time!

                                            >the horseshoe that breathes, at least that's what the box claims

                                            >"And this one here, it's brilliant! Got it in just the other day."

                                            "It's a can opener." Trixie observes, somewhat puzzled

                                            >"A magical can opener. When you go the other way, the can seals again!... Wait, is something wrong? You didn't even react at all"

                                            >avoiding her gaze and uncertainly shifting from one hoof to the other, Trixie finally manages to get word out

                                            "Look, Odilia. There's... something Trixie... I have to show you. In my wagon"

                                            >her opposite raises an eyebrow, the big eyes amplified by the glasses in front of them

                                            >"Alright, what is it?"

                                            "...It... is strange. Very strange. I was hoping we could work out some kind of deal. Promise you won't be spooked or weirded out or anything?"