[REQUEST] Slasher Science - Moon Dancer


                                            Slasher Science asked in one of the threads:

                                            "Requesting a Moon Dancer story from you."

                                            Fairly straight-forward, I must say. Had to re-watch 'Amending Fences' to get a feel for her character though. Watching ponies for research, what an appalling concept, right?


                                            ---


                                            >With the final volume of Juniper Yarn's 'A Treatise on Shrubberies' slotted neatly into place, you twist your upper half from your position on the library ladder and give a thumbs up to your boss.

                                            "All done, First Folio."

                                            >You descend and trudge over to her, the pony giving you a warm look as you approach.

                                            >"Really can't tell you how much I appreciate all your help, Anon."

                                            >You give a shy nod, and the older mare regards you with a casual smile from her seat, a nudge of grey magic pushing her half-rimmed glasses further up her nose.

                                            >"It's been great; super great. Listen, I got a note the other day from a colleague up at the palace; they're looking for help in the Royal Archives, so I put your name down, that okay?"

                                            >You can't help but look surprised.

                                            "Really? Folio, I'm flattered, but I like working here--"

                                            >"Ooh don't be silly, don't be silly, Anon, I like you as well but we're running out of things for you to do down here."

                                            "Ah." Your shoulders sag a bit.

                                            >"Don't go looking so upset; like I keep saying you've been nothing but great, really great, uh huh, so I thought you'd earned a trip further up the library ladder-- besides, working in the Royal Archives pays a lot more than the mooks running this place can afford." She gestures a hoof nonchalantly around at the bookshelves surrounding the two of you.

                                            "So the archives it is, then. What can you tell me about them?"

                                            >"Ooh, only what you'd expect. Closed to most of the public, only VIP's can use it. Ceiling's four times as high as ours, buncha books dating back centuries, and a restricted section for a few writings that have survived millennia. It's a real nice place, real nice. Quiet. You'll like it, I'm sure. Like I said, big pay rise too."

                                            >You bob your head ponderously as she speaks.

                                            "I suppose I'd better get prepared then. When do I start?"

                                            >"Not right now, no, not for a week; you'll just need to wander up there next Wednesday, I have a pass I'll need to give you so stop by the back-room before you leave today before I forget."

                                            "Fair enough. Thank you so much for this, Folio, I really don't know what else to say."

                                            >"How about you come down and visit me every so often, yeah? I'm sure this place'll go straight to Tartarus once you're not monkeyin' around, uh huh; I'm kidding of course, everything will be fine."

                                            "Hah, thanks, well I'll try to monkey on over whenever I get the chance. And I mean hey, look at you! You're doing well; going from Overdue Returns to Head Librarian? That's a pretty big jump."

                                            >"Uh huh, oh yeah, yeah, it's great, real great. Shame about the previous Head, she was nice."

                                            "I never met her, what happened to her, exactly?"

                                            >"Tried to read a copy of 'Literally Just A Monster'; poor soul, poor thing."

                                            "Why's that bad?"

                                            >"Oh well the book is literally just a monster; ate her entire body whole, tragic stuff. Don't read that book, Anon, it's a real stinker, yeah."

                                            "I'll... stay away from it."

                                            >"Good man; you'll go far, Anon, I believe in you, and all that. Anyway, better get back to it; you're on desk duty until the end of the day, m'kay?"

                                            "Okie doke; I'll see you later, Folio."


                                            >Desk duty is fine.

                                            >Not bad, but not exactly entertaining either. Just fine.

                                            >You dutifully note down each withdrawal and deposit, smiling at each pony as they come and go.

                                            >Eventually they all tend to merge together in a vague, general-public-shaped blur.

                                            >Though your work demands that you keep a sharp mind and don't allow yourself to daydream.

                                            >Have to keep yourself alert, especially if you're going to be moving up to the Royal Archives next week.

                                            >You simper at the thought; First Folio has been a treat.

                                            >Mild-mannered, a dry sense of humour, not always 'there'; the perfect overseer. You can only hope that whomever you'll be working for next will be just as--

                                            >You snap to attention at the unicorn before you repeating herself.

                                            >"Hello?"

                                            "Ah, sorry, miss, I was miles away."

                                            >"I can see that," she says with a small grin.

                                            >You take the books from her - three in total - and begin checking them out of the library.

                                            "'Magical Harmonics', 'Great Lakes of Equestria', and 'Cooking for Foals'. Quite an eclectic selection there, miss."

                                            >Her grin broadens and she checks her mane with a quick hoof.

                                            >"Yeah, I'm a pretty voracious reader; have been all my life. What about you, do you read much?"

                                            >You dip your quill in its inkwell and note the date of withdrawal in your ledger, speaking without looking at the mare.

                                            "It's generally what I do to pass the time; books are rarely a disappointment."

                                            >"I completely agree!" she sounds eager. "What sort of books do you like?"

                                            "Oh..." you finish checking the books out and look up at her with a polite smile. "More or less everything."

                                            >The mare takes her books in a pink aura; the hardbacks hovering beside her head.

                                            >"So I don't think I've ever seen-- well uh, 'met' you before, are you new?"

                                            "I've been working at Canterlot Library for about three months, but I mostly worked in the back doing archiving and such."

                                            >"Right, right," she affirmatively nods, "that'll be why I've not met you. I'm in here a -lot-," she laughs.

                                            "Well, I'm sure I'll see you again before long. Take care, miss."

                                            >"Yes! Yes, of course, w-well, goodbye!"

                                            >She merrily trots towards the door, looking back at you before passing through them and onto the street beyond.

                                            >You look back at your ledger to double-check your notes, and hear soft hoofsteps behind you.

                                            >"Was that Moon Dancer just now?"

                                            >Turn to see First Folio, wearing her usual vacant smile.

                                            "You know her?"

                                            >"Oh yes, she's a good friend of mine. Nice girl, real nice; spends most of her time studying."

                                            >She looks appraisingly at the door Moon Dancer just exited through.

                                            >"Really come into her own lately, though; much more confident than she used to be. Cleaned herself up. Yeah, real nice girl."

                                            "I'm glad to hear she's doing well for herself." you say diplomatically as First Folio continues.

                                            >"Sure, sure. Went to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns; real smart-cookie, that one. She knows Princess Twilight Sparkle, don'tcha know."

                                            "Really now? I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting the Princess."

                                            >"She's nice too; she and Moon Dancer go back a long way."

                                            >First Folio gives you a friendly nudge with an elbow.

                                            >"Hey, maybe you can ask Moony to introduce you to the Princess."

                                            "Hah, I'm not really one for meeting royalty, Folio."

                                            >"Ah, suit yourself, but yeah, Moony. Great girl, you'll like her. Anyway, I gotta get back to it..."

                                            >She trails off and frowns at you.

                                            >"Something I was supposed to mention to you..."

                                            "The pass for the archives?"

                                            >"Oh yes!" she brightens up again, "Thought I'd just give it to you now, there you are." A formal strip of card adorned with gold filigree and an elaborate signature in blue ink is placed before you by Folio's magic. "Uh huh, it's Wednesday you'll need to go there. If you don't have the pass the guards won't let you in."

                                            "So soon." you peer up at the domed glass ceiling for a lull. "I'm really gonna miss this place."

                                            >"I'm sure you'll come back once in a while; I still need to teach you how to play poker like someone who isn't having a stroke."

                                            "Ouch." you both share a soft laugh together, then get back to working until the end of your shift.


                                            >The following morning, you're in a more secluded part of the library somewhere in the upper levels reorganising the section on agriculture.

                                            >You take a moment to flip through a large, worn book celebrating the virtues of dynamite as a way to harvest crops.

                                            >You're as intrigued as you are worried.

                                            >After putting the book back and reaching for the next, it leaves the shelf of its own accord in a pink flourish, gently floating away to your left.

                                            >You turn to see Moon Dancer stood close and beaming at you.

                                            >"Hi again!"

                                            "Morning; Moon Dancer, isn't it?"

                                            >"Oh, you know my name?" she edges forward slightly.

                                            "Folio mentioned that you knew each other--"

                                            >"Right! Yes, yes, w-we're great friends." she hastily blurts. "So-oo, what are you working on?"

                                            "Uh," you glance at the next book along from the one Moon Dancer took and cock your head sideways to read the spine, "'Agricultural Industrialisation: A Refutation of an Absurd and Impossible Dream'. That; that explains quite a lot." you mutter the latter to yourself.

                                            >Moon Dancer nods eagerly.

                                            >"I've read that one, really good arguments; death to the machine cult, you know what I mean? Ha ha."

                                            "I suppose; so how can I help you?"

                                            >"Oh, well I just want to, uh, chat. How's it going?"

                                            "It's... going alright. Hey, if you're wanting to stick around, I'll need to index this entire row by publishing date; wanna help?"

                                            >Her smile widens dramatically.


                                            "And she really just ran off without saying goodbye?"

                                            >"Yes... but hey, that was Twilight. She and I were two peas in a pod, both as bad as each other. We're all made up now."

                                            "Good to know. And what are you doing with yourself these days?"

                                            >Moon Dancer shuffles from her spot at the table you're both using so that she's sat closer to you.

                                            >In the centre of the table, a towering, yet neat obelisk of books ordered by date is a testament to the last thirty minutes' minimal labour.

                                            >"Studying, mostly; I've decided that I want to write an encyclopaedia on major Equestrian innovations in the last two-hundred years. Got a lot to read up on."

                                            "Wow, that's one hell of an undertaking; where would you even begin?"

                                            >She shrugs and gives you a coy smirk.

                                            >"At the beginning, I would think."

                                            "Hah, funny mare." you give her a sidelong grin.

                                            >She titters and pushes her glasses back up her nose with a hoof.

                                            >"Well I like to think so. So, where abouts are you in Canterlot?"

                                            "The lower quarter. It's all I can afford right now, though fingers crossed that changes soon."

                                            >"Really? I live there too! Hey, we should meet up sometime, you and me."

                                            "I'll have to think about it. This one needs to go up," you offer her a book.

                                            >"Oh, sure--" the mare sends the book in your hand to the top of the pile with a flick of her horn, watching the tottering pile uneasily as the book is gently settled atop it.

                                            >"'To such heights we've arisen; to such depths we'll fall.'," she says in a deep voice.

                                            >You pause, think, then smile at her.

                                            "Equinas, right?"

                                            >The mare clops her hooves together happily.

                                            >"Yes! I -knew- you'd get that one!"

                                            "Sure, I've read all the classics. At least, I think I have." you rub your chin in thought. "Gonna slap a 'maybe' on that one, actually."

                                            >She squints at you, a playful flicker dancing in her eyes. Then, she sits up straight, her jaw set.

                                            >"Toffee Glow."

                                            "...Yes."

                                            >"Bridlesoar."

                                            "Yyyes."

                                            >"Rimebrant."

                                            "Yup."

                                            >"Hoofington?"

                                            "Most of them."

                                            >"Okay, okay," she puts on her best attempt at a serious expression, the corners of her mouth still pulling up, "Moss Heart's Tetralogy of Light."

                                            "Ah, no, you've got me there," you concede.

                                            >She suppresses a squeal.

                                            >"Yesss! Yesyesyes, I -have- to show you that one! You should come over my place after work! Please Anon, you'll love it!"

                                            >You find it hard to reject her enthusiasm, so with a weak shrug, you make plans.

                                            >When your shift ends, and the indexing is complete, you're half-dragged from the library by Moon Dancer; her magic persistently tugging on your sleeve as you head for the door.

                                            >First Folio watches you go with a wry smirk.

                                            "Uhh, I'll see you tomorrow, Folio," you say in passing.

                                            >"Yes! Bye Folio!" Moon Dancer gushes, "And thank you so much!"

                                            >Folio nods at her friend, still smirking.

                                            >"Knock 'em dead, kiddo."


                                            >Eventually you're able to get her to stop yanking on your sleeve before she tears the arm off your shirt.

                                            >The mare trots alongside you, her expression glowing as the two of you hurry through the busy afternoon streets of lower Canterlot.

                                            >You look down at her as she explains, in excruciating detail, the cut-throat environment of the knitting world.

                                            >Apparently it's not uncommon for ponies to be found beaten with knitting needles jammed up their nostrils.

                                            >Sounds brutal.

                                            >"So yeah, that was basically my introduction to it all. Still, I got this neat sweater out of it."

                                            >She fondly strokes the front of her frizzy black sweater.

                                            "I noticed you were wearing that yesterday; fond of it?"

                                            >"Hah, I basically never take it off. It's like a comfort blanket-- I know, that's silly, but I like it." she firmly nods in a self-assured manner.

                                            "It certainly makes you stick out."

                                            >"In a good way, right?"

                                            "Sure. Means I'll never not see you coming."

                                            >She grins at you.

                                            >"Because I'll definitely be making a habit of chasing you down?"

                                            "I'll certainly be running away a lot."

                                            >"Not before I show you Moss Heart's works; have you -really- not read them?"

                                            "'Fraid not, what's it about?"

                                            >"Oh. Ohhh, Anon, just you wait and see."


                                            >Moon Dancer's home is a bit of a fixer-upper.

                                            >According to the mare, it's seen worse days, but you're not convinced.

                                            >You duck under the doorway as you enter her home, a musty combination hitting you all at once.

                                            >Old paper, stale food, and something else you can't describe assaults your senses, and your nose wrinkles slightly.

                                            >The mare trots off into what she cheerfully claims is the kitchen, leaving you to survey the front room you find yourself in.

                                            >The writing desk pressed against the window to the left seems to be the most-used and best-kept part of the house; piles of books line the walls, and sporadic tomes dot the floor at random positions. The walls, dressed in a faded lilac paint, seem to be succumbing to a mysterious greenish mould coming from the ceiling.

                                            >Moon Dancer emerges from her kitchen, humming; a pair of sandwiches hover in her magic.

                                            >She sees you peering at the ceiling and glances there as well before grinning sheepishly.

                                            >"Oh, that. Yeah, I was going to do something about that but I think it might be some new form of mould never before seen in Equestria, so I've decided to keep it around for study."

                                            "And the floor books?"

                                            >"That's ah, Feng Shui. Read about it in one of the original Saddle Arabian texts. Increases luck, apparently."

                                            "I thought Feng Shui originated in the Jade Reaches?" you say as you take a sandwich that had floated over to you.

                                            >Moon Dancer rolls her eyes.

                                            >"The Jade Reaches popularised the practice, but the Saddle Arabians came up with it first."

                                            >You think on your feet for a moment, and cock your head slightly.

                                            "Mm, that can't be right; Feng Shui has its roots in the Ivory Steppes; nowhere near Saddle Arabia. Yammer Horn was the first Yak to write about it, and he'd never set hoof in Saddle Arabia."

                                            >The mare scowls.

                                            >"But that doesn't explain why the earliest writings show a clear influence of Arabian quillship, a style that didn't travel beyond Saddle Arabia until eight-hundred years ago."

                                            "That quillship is falsely attributed to Saddle Arabia; it actually started in the Jade Reaches, along with Feng Shui."

                                            >There's a pause.

                                            >"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

                                            "Well," you shift uncomfortably, "yeah, I am; you are."

                                            >Moon Dancer progresses from a scowl to a glare.

                                            >Then stuffs her sandwich in her mouth, chewing and swallowing the entire thing in a few ravenous bites.

                                            >After swallowing, she wipes her lips with the back of her foreleg, getting crumbs on her sweater.

                                            >"Oh, -now- it's on."


                                            >The original purpose of your visit all but forgotten, the two of you spend the next four hours reading conflicting reports on the origins of Feng Shui.

                                            >During that time you had shouted at her, and she at you.

                                            >Hooves were jabbed accusingly against chests and legs; arms were waved around in exasperation.

                                            >Books mercilessly tossed about and cited.

                                            >Arguments made, and arguments lost.

                                            >Multisyllabic words used with reckless abandon.

                                            >Multisyllabic words used incorrectly and then called out for their misuse.

                                            >Dictionaries and thesauruses wrenched from the dark corners of the house and furiously regarded.

                                            >Many more sandwiches devoured, and many energy drinks were swallowed; the cans crushed and carelessly tossed to the side.

                                            >Eventually, well into the night, you find yourself slumped on an old maroon beanbag with Moon Dancer; the mare curled up against you.

                                            >The pair of you are reading from the same book, angrily.

                                            >"You done with the page yet?"

                                            "I was done five minutes ago."

                                            >"Please; I choose not to skim-read."

                                            "Skim-reading is necessary when the author keeps labouring the point."

                                            >"And miss out on the nuances of a bolstered argument? You make me sick."

                                            "Your smell makes me sick."

                                            >"My musk is more than you can handle."

                                            "Maybe if you took a god damned shower every once in a while I'd be more open to your musk."

                                            >"You're not exactly a scented rose yourself, you know."

                                            "I work up a sweat when I'm angry."

                                            >"As do I."

                                            "Glad I'm not the only one taking this seriously."

                                            >"I tend to get aggravated when my knowledge is being unduly challenged."

                                            "If I've learnt anything tonight it's that your knowledge is as porous as your sweater."

                                            >"And your blithe dismissals of the historical significance of Gummy Mede's notes regarding her second expedition to the Jade Reaches is, frankly, an insult to anyone considering themselves even remotely academically inclined."

                                            >Your eyebrows are firmly knitted together as you regard the odious little nerd nestled at your side.

                                            >Her contorted face and heavy breathing betray her own outrage at you.

                                            >So wrapped up you are in your anger that you don't really react at first when her hooves grasp your face and pull you into a sweat-laden, overly-tongued mess of a kiss.

                                            >Moon Dancer manages a few muffled grunts as her tongue, still tasting like dandelion sandwiches and Dragon Energy Ultra, drags itself all over your lips, teeth, gums.

                                            >After a half-minute of this, you have just enough mental wherewithal to push her back, the pony gasping; her chest heaving.

                                            >"Wh-why did you stop?"

                                            "Why... why did you start?!"

                                            >"I-I thought, oh, heck, I um--"

                                            >With great effort (considering the malleable nature of the beanbag) she scrambles away from you and to her hooves.

                                            >Her thick-rimmed glasses are skewed, and she quickly corrects them with a flicker of pink.

                                            >"I thought you um, you felt the same way. I'm sorry."

                                            >You swallow the lump in your throat, heart still hammering in your chest.

                                            "It's... fine. I was just really into the argument."

                                            >She manages a breathless laugh.

                                            >"Yeah! It was intense! So um, do you want to take a break?"

                                            >You can just about force yourself to nod a few times.


                                            >She lies on her side on her squeaky bed.

                                            >You are slouched on a wooden stool just beside her.

                                            >The two of you quietly nibble your respective foods; Moon Dancer a stick of granola and yourself a bar of chocolate.

                                            >You're inspecting the corners of her bedroom.

                                            >She's staring straight at you, unblinking.

                                            >Eventually, you clear your throat and gesture to another pile of the omnipresent books that inhabit her house.

                                            "So what are--"

                                            >"Haycart's Theorems. All seventeen volumes."

                                            "I see."

                                            >You take another bite of your bar.

                                            >It's good - Equestrian chocolate is a little bit tougher to chew than the stuff you were used to on Earth, but it tastes near enough the same.

                                            >Once you finish the bar, you cast another look around the room before looking back to Moon Dancer.

                                            "Well, I think I'd better head off; got work tomorrow, and such."

                                            >Your words break her reverie, and she blinks a few times.

                                            >"R-right, uh, well! It was nice meeting you, Anon. I enjoyed our, um, discussion."

                                            "Yes, it was certainly very... animated."

                                            >You rise to your feet and head for the door, the pony hopping off her bed and following you out.

                                            >On her doorstep, you turn back to her.

                                            "Thanks for the interesting evening, Moon Dancer."

                                            >She nods shakily, readjusting her glasses again.

                                            >"See you to-- later! See you later!"

                                            >With that, you stroll off into a pleasantly lit night-time Canterlot.

                                            >She watches you go and, once you're gone, bites her hoof and screams into it.


                                            >Turning the book in your hand, you briefly admire the artwork on the front as its shiny faux-leather surface catches the light streaming in through Canterlot Library's domed ceiling.

                                            >You frown at the book's cover, pondering where to put it.

                                            >'Punching Every Animal In Its Stupid Animal Face', by Kicky Hooves.

                                            >Does it go in fiction, or non-fiction?

                                            >There's no way he actually managed to punch every animal in its stupid animal face.

                                            >Is there?

                                            >You open the book and decide to find out.

                                            >An hour of absolutely captivating reading later, you decide to put it in non-fiction, and mutter a quick prayer to both Jesus and Celestia to preserve his immortal soul.

                                            >As you step away from the bookshelf to admire your organising work, you hear someone clear their throat.

                                            >Turn to see First Folio giving you her usual serene look.

                                            >"So I forgot to ask this morning; how'd it go last night? With Moon Dancer? Nice girl, right?"

                                            "Oh." you blank.

                                            >She chuckles.

                                            >"That good, huh? I knew she'd do well."

                                            >You shake your head slowly.

                                            "We spent most of the night debating. It was... interesting."

                                            >Folio's ordinarily calm expression is momentarily broken.

                                            >Her face scrunches up slightly.

                                            >"Debating...?"

                                            "Sure; we got stuck on a topic and couldn't really move past it." You breathe a short laugh. "I suppose we're both as stubborn as each other."

                                            >"And that's good, right?"

                                            "Sort of? It's not often I meet someone who refuses to let go of a point the same way I do. It was an experience, I'll say that much."

                                            >"You're both okay now though, right?" She looks concerned. "Not mad at each other?"

                                            >You give an unsure shrug.

                                            "Not mad at all, it was just a jarring experience." You give Folio your best smile. "Don't worry, I'm not about to start holding any grudges."

                                            >First Folio frowns, then nods a few times.

                                            >"Uh huh, well, alright then. I'll speak to you later, Anon." She promptly turns and trots away.

                                            >You watch her go with a neutral look.

                                            >Not like First Folio to appear as anything other than mildly bemused.

                                            >Then again, Moon Dancer is her friend. She's probably just worried about her.

                                            >With that thought, you turn back to your task and pick up another book.

                                            "'My Wife Turned Into A Giant Fruit Bat But Is Still Kind Of Hot For Some Reason?'? That one's -gotta- be fiction."


                                            >Another day, but this time you're in the back.

                                            >It's been a while, but you're happy to be here.

                                            >Just you, endless boxes of books, and absolute silence.

                                            >Plus, no public to bother you.

                                            >Not that you necessarily mind, but given the choice between reading in silence and being prodded by strangers you'd take the reading.

                                            >Though to your surprise, as you turn to the next page in 'Harmless Pranks Involving Chicken Wire And Hot Sauce', you find yourself being gently poked from behind.

                                            >You turn in your seat to find Moon Dancer smiling awkwardly at you.

                                            >"Hi, again."

                                            "Oh, hey."

                                            >"Can we talk?"

                                            "I think so, but I don't think the public is allowed back here--"

                                            >"First Folio let me in."

                                            "Ah, fair enough then."

                                            >She slumps onto a stool next to you at your reading desk.

                                            >"I'm sorry about before."

                                            "It's fine, I think we were both upset."

                                            >"Not about the argument, I mean... you know."

                                            >She cocks her head to the side and gives you a shy look.

                                            >You remember the feeling of her face against yours. Not that you'd actually forgotten it, you'd been trying to all day, but now ghosts of her smell and touch were echoing once more in your mind.

                                            "Oh, that."

                                            >"Yeah."

                                            "Again, I think we were just, confused?"

                                            >She gives you an uncertain look, and you don't really buy what you said either.

                                            >The mare leans forward in her seat, peering up at you.

                                            >"Well I, I liked it."

                                            >She shrugs.

                                            >"I'd do it again, if you were up for it?"

                                            "Aha, I'm not looking for anyone right now, Moon Dancer--"

                                            >"Moony. My friends call me Moony."

                                            "...Moony." The mare develops a small grin. "I'm not looking for anyone right now, sorry."

                                            >"Why not?"

                                            "Well, you know, I have a lot going on at the moment."

                                            >Her eyes wander over your face.

                                            >"...Such as?"

                                            "Got a new job coming up soon, so I won't be around here for much longer--"

                                            >"The Royal Archives, right?"

                                            "Uh, yeah? How do you--"

                                            >"Yeah, Folio told me. It's great up there! You need a pass to get in though, right?"

                                            "I... do, yes."

                                            >She nods, a wave of sudden discomfort seeming to wash over her.

                                            >The mare looks at the doorway out of the room, then to you.

                                            >She watches you for a moment, and you can practically hear the gears churning in her head.

                                            >Her horn gently shines with a pink corona, and the door quietly shuts with a click.

                                            >You then hear the tell-tale sound of a lock flicking into place.

                                            >She sits up, trying to be confident, and puts on the most winning smile she can muster.

                                            >"Would the pass look like this?"

                                            >From the depths of her sweater, a familiar piece of gold-embellished card emerges bathed a rosy aura.

                                            >You narrow your eyes at it, then at her.

                                            "Where did you get that?"

                                            >"It dropped out of your pocket at some point the other night. I found it this morning."

                                            "I see. And may I have it back?" you offer your hand towards it.

                                            >Moon Dancer moves her head back slightly, the card travelling alongside her.

                                            >"Not yet. I'd like something from you first."

                                            >She gulps.

                                            >"I-I want to kiss you again."

                                            >You regard her warily.

                                            "What are you doing, Moon Dancer?"

                                            >"I think... no, I -know-, that you and I are a good match."

                                            "Like partners?"

                                            >"Yes." An emphatic nod. "Come on, Anon! A four-hour long argument that neither of us ended up winning? The only other pony I've met that could keep up with me like that was Twilight, and trust me when I say I'm -not- into mares."

                                            >She grins at you.

                                            >"But you've read Yellow Brook! And Polymane! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find another pony who's read all that stuff? Who gets my weird references?"

                                            "Sure, I read a lot, but that doesn't mean--"

                                            >"And I lied!"

                                            >You pause.

                                            >"I-I lied the other night. Y-you know, when you said I, um, smell, and I said you don't smell like roses."

                                            >She blushes.

                                            >"You do. Well, not roses -specifically- but you smell like body wash. You know, 'nice'. I like your smell. It's very agreeable."

                                            "...So your bar to entry for potential partners is: 'must read and also shower', is that it?"

                                            >"Not -only- that; heavens, I'm not -that- desperate."

                                            >The mare shuffles her chair closer.

                                            >"But First Folio has been telling me about you since you first arrived. And she tells me about all the neat stuff you've been doing around here, and how polite you are, and how you do all these generous things for her and the other staff."

                                            "Oh, so that's how you know about the archive job."

                                            >"Yeah, she's been feeding me information. But it's fine! She made you sound great, and what do you know, you -are- great! So come on; you and me. I even showered today!"

                                            >She sticks a hoof forward, and you can detect the vague scent of cheap marketplace perfume.

                                            "Great, but as I said, I'm not looking for anything at the moment, so I'll just be taking my pass--"

                                            >The pass zips away from you both and into the waste paper bin at the far end of the room.

                                            >"Whoops."

                                            "Moon Dancer."

                                            >"Moony."

                                            "Moon. Dancer. This isn't funny." You rise to your feet, towering over her.

                                            >Then you let out a surprised yelp as you're hurled to the ground.

                                            >You look up, dazed and bewildered, at Moon Dancer.

                                            >Her hooves are clasped over her mouth, eyes widened in shock.

                                            >"Oh gosh, I didn't mean to throw you that hard! Sorry, I don't get much practice at using telekinesis on larger things like you."

                                            "What the hell are you doing?"

                                            >The mare glances at the door again, and her horn flares once more.

                                            >A thin pink sheen passes over the wood, then expands to envelop the stone walls and ceiling.

                                            >You watch this with great concern.

                                            >The mare gives you a sheepish smile.

                                            >"Noise-cancelling. Learnt that one from Twilight."

                                            "And why," you swallow the growing lump in your throat, "would you need something like that, Moon D... Moony?"

                                            >She shudders, likely from nerves, and slides off the stool.

                                            >Then takes a moment to turn away and begins psyching herself up. You can hear her muttering lines to herself and sucking in deep breaths.

                                            >You take the opportunity to leap to your feet and to the door, hand gripping the handle and twisting it to open.

                                            >The door holds fast, and you slam a palm against it in a panic.

                                            >To your surprise, the impact makes no sound, even as you feel the surface hit your skin, proving that Moon Dancer wasn't bluffing.

                                            >"Anon?"

                                            >You hesitate, but turn.

                                            >Moon Dancer stands before you, one of her forelegs rubbing the other nervously.

                                            >Her black sweater is crumpled up on a nearby box of books, and her hair-band has been removed; the mare's mane flopped into its natural straight bangs.

                                            >Her glasses remain perched on her nose, though, and she shakily corrects them with a hoof.

                                            >"It's like in 'Tender Hearts', right? You've read that one?"

                                            >You carefully study the mare's lithe form from a (worryingly close) distance

                                            >Under the frumpy sweater she always wears, there's a surprisingly slim figure; her pale cream coat and vibrant red and purple striped mane complimenting her violet eyes.

                                            >Certainly not an athletic mare, but a softer, more delicate looking body than you would have expected.

                                            >The aforementioned eyes are watching you closely.

                                            >You wet your lips and cautiously retort.

                                            "In 'Tender Hearts', Greymane and Kind Heart were mutual lovers. And they consummated their love in a broom closet, not the back room of a public library."

                                            >Moon Dancer nickers affectionately.

                                            >"See, that right there."

                                            >She begins tentatively closing the gap.

                                            >"That right there is why I like you."

                                            "W-wouldn't you rather talk about philosophy or something?"

                                            >"Anon... I read so much cheap smut it's unreal."

                                            >She stops at your feet and gazes up at you lovingly.

                                            >"I gotta put at least -some- of what I've read into practice, right?"

                                            >You gulp.

                                            >Her horn sparks, and you're yanked down to her, where she moves her mouth next to your ear and whispers.

                                            >"'Her choral screams intertwined with his roaring, guttural passions. Their duet the sweetest music; his throbbing heat igniting her core.'"

                                            "...'The Heartbound', by Princess Cadence."

                                            >Her hooves slide around your neck and she bites your earlobe.

                                            >"Gods, you drive me WILD."


                                            >First Folio purses her lips.

                                            >You sit at the front desk of the mercifully empty library, a thousand-yard stare your only response to whatever she had said to you.

                                            >"So... You and Moony had a talk, uh huh?"

                                            "...Uh huh."

                                            >"...You both work out your differences?"

                                            "In... In a manner of speaking, yes."

                                            >"No harsh words, I hope?"

                                            "W-well, she's certainly very domineering when she wants to be. Her vocabulary had a lot of very physically-oriented commands and I found it hard to resist her arguments."

                                            >The older mare nods slowly, her characteristic smile returning.

                                            >"Alright then... That's good, real good. Glad to hear you two are getting along. I was worried you'd got off on the wrong hoof, you know? She's a nice girl, but I'm sure you know that now."

                                            >She turns to leave, but pauses and tilts her head back at you.

                                            >"By the way, I was going through the back-rooms earlier, and saw one of the storage rooms was a bit trashed. Weird smell in there too; would you mind clearing it up? Not sure how that could have happened."

                                            "I'll... I'll get right on that, First Folio."

                                            >"Thanks Anon, you're a great help." she gives you a sly wink. "I knew you and Moony would get along."


                                            >The following Wednesday, you diligently work away at the task your new boss had assigned you.

                                            >The reverent halls of the Royal Archive surround you, and you had to gasp when you first saw it in all its glory.

                                            >But you cannot get distracted; the archives need constantly updating, and your boss, a close friend of First Folio, seems to think you're the man to do it.

                                            >You're certainly not about to let him down.

                                            >As you write away at your desk near the entrance to the archives, you hear a polite cough.

                                            >You don't look up from your work.

                                            "Checking in or out?"

                                            >"Checking out."

                                            >You freeze.

                                            >Then slowly look up.

                                            >Moon Dancer beams at you.

                                            >The two of you lock eyes for a while, the mare wearing a look of devious, joyful intent; you, a look of utter terror.

                                            "B-but the public isn't allowed in here!"

                                            >Moon Dancer chews her lip, then gives you a playful smile.

                                            >"Yup. But I was a student at Celestia's school. That makes me a VIP."

                                            >You find yourself incapable of moving, more out of fear than from magical implications.

                                            >The mare looks over her shoulder at the silent, empty hall, then back to you as she reaches up and removes her headband, shaking her head to free her vibrant, freshly shampooed and glossy mane.

                                            >"So-oo... wanna practise some more?"


                                            The End.