Lim & Dim - Alchemical Adventures in Western Equestria


                                            >"So, what's your catch?"

                                            >"Sleeper agent?"

                                            >"Changeling spy?"

                                            >"...Cannibal?"

                                            >The air in the woods just beyond the witch's alcove is crisp and warm in the summer sun. But she's frozen as stiff as a block of ice.

                                            >The Wicked Witch Limeade holds her wary stance.

                                            >Until she finally receives an answer.

                                            >"Specialist."

                                            >"You already said that!" Lime huffs. "That doesn't tell me anything!"

                                            >"And 'wicked' and 'witch' only tell me that I should restrain you, and return you for questioning."

                                            >Lime squeaks, and takes a step back. "Wha—no! The Limeade hasn't done anything! Yet! Unlike Specialist Dim Halhide!"

                                            >Dim raises a brow. His unasked question receives an eager reply.

                                            >"You followed me back from town to my super cool lair! And now you're probably going to tell everypony!"

                                            >"I don't have to."

                                            >Lime blinks. "Huh?"

                                            >"I followed you because I was curious, Miss Wicked Witch Limeade. Like you, I don't take orders." Dim breaks his impression of a statue to lean in. "You're young to be running a business. No less one as a con artist."

                                            >"Limeade is not a con artist!"

                                            >"Limeade isn't as skilled as she tries to appear."

                                            >That finally draws a pout out of Lime. "Well, you're not a very nice looking pony!"

                                            >"I'm a bat pony." He stretches. His light purple armor shifts, crackling quietly below the louder leathery flaps of his wings. "And my specialty is alchemy. You fancy yourself a bit of a potionmaker."

                                            >"I make ades!" She stands straighter, drawing herself up as close as she can to the bat pony's height. "Limeade is my specialty!"

                                            >"And I'm the alchemist Equestria calls upon when they need a solution that works."

                                            >Lime eyes Dim as he kicks a hindleg forward.

                                            >Unlike the single-looped potions on his saddlebags, the leg belt of potions numbers in a neat row of four. Whisking his large wing down, he scoops up one potion with the claw tip, rolls it on his leather, and into a waiting hoof. He presents the bubbleless green concoction to Lime.

                                            >"What do you think this is?"

                                            >Lime squints. "This is a trick question! Limeade doesn't know what it's made of!"

                                            >Dim squints back. "What do you think I made it for, then?"

                                            >"Hm... green is good." She leans in with a raised foreleg. When she sits it down, she adjusts the black sock while she replies. "But Limeade knows you are a trickster! It's acid!"

                                            >Without breaking eye contact, Dim places the jar back on his wing, tilts it back, and with another kick of his hindleg, holds his leg belt in place to re-slot the jar.

                                            >"A very potent acid."

                                            >"Acid should have bubbles!"

                                            >"And be noisy, too. But then creatures would worry. It's meant to look harmless, even though it really isn't."

                                            >"Impressions are important!"

                                            >Dim's lip twitches. "I agree, Wicked Witch Limeade."

                                            >Lime shuffles in place again. The armored bat is still eyeing her with the same look he's been holding since landing behind her.

                                            >"You followed Limeade home to tell her your name? And offer advice?"

                                            >"Yes."

                                            >"I don't trust you!"

                                            >"You really should, Limeade." Much to Lime's surprise, Dim's sharp orange eyes soften. "I can tell you have talent. But I can teach you the skills you need to really make you successful."

                                            >Lime has to really take a moment to think that over.

                                            >This bat pony, rigged up with potions and equipment, just dropped in on her on her way back from a successful outing in that easy-to-trick village. Sure, this was more than likely a trap by those meddling guardsponies from Equestria, but at the same time...

                                            >Wait!

                                            >"Limeade is a strong independent mare!!!"

                                            >"And I only take direct orders from the Princess, and the Captain of the Royal Guard. Both very, very busy ponies."

                                            >Lime's throat suddenly dries up. This can't be it...

                                            >"Otherwise, I deal with things as I see fit."

                                            >"T-this is the catch?"

                                            >"The catch is... I think you could learn a thing or two under my wing."


                                            >The lime complexion of the Wicked Witch Limeade beams right through the clearing.

                                            >Guided by her bright smile and wave, Dim eases his low glide into a descending loop.

                                            >"Dim! You came back!"

                                            >Dim gently alights before the witch-hatted mare. "I said I would, Limeade."

                                            >"I thought you might sleep through the day, like a bat!"

                                            >"I serve both day, and night." His lip twitches in some notion of amusement. "However, ponies—especially ones here—are most active in the day."

                                            >"So when do you sleep?"

                                            >Dim frowns. It's more than plenty to get Lime moving on.

                                            >"Okay... but Limeade dreamed about you!"

                                            >"Is it prudent that I learn its contents?"

                                            >"Huh?" Lime stumbles in her thinking. "Well, no! But it—"

                                            >"Then let's move on."

                                            >Just as Dim starts to move past Lime, she steps into his way.

                                            >"Hey! Limeade wasn't finished talking to you!"

                                            >Unlike yesterday, Dim's withering glare doesn't immediately send her reeling. She holds her ground.

                                            >Dim's response is flat. "Speak."

                                            >"First of all, Limeade is not a potionmaker! She is the most magical pony, ever!"

                                            >Dim stares.

                                            >Lime deflates a little. "Okay, going to be the most super! And... second of all! Um." She glances behind her, then back to Dim. She perks up. "My super cool lair isn't ready for visitors!"

                                            >The reply, while totally expected, is even drier than the last drought. "Noted."

                                            >"So... you don't want to go inside today, okay? "

                                            >"I think I will. I want to see this lab of yours."

                                            >"It's not a lab, it's a lair! Lab makes it sound all science-like!"

                                            >"Magic is its own branch of science."

                                            >"No, it's not!"

                                            >"You agreed to learn. Let me teach you something."

                                            >Lime sighs heavily. "Okay, but—"

                                            >A sharp click snaps from Dim's mouth. It draws a squeak out of Lime.

                                            >"What was that?"

                                            >Lime falls silent.

                                            >Dim waits.

                                            >Eventually, he speaks.

                                            >"Everything in our world is composed of finite matter. Magic can empower this matter. Through it, we can derive and promote a great many effects, including ones for advantageous applications." He licks his lips, and leans in. "For perspective, when it comes to ponies, there are two kinds. Meat, and morsel."

                                            >"Limeade doesn't like that..."

                                            >"Meat is worth working with. Morsels are almost entirely pleasure."

                                            >"Then what am I?"

                                            >Dim blinks. "You're... special."

                                            >"Limeade is special?"

                                            >Dim takes a slow, deep breath. He puffs through his nostrils, and cranes his head to her as he replies. "Very special."

                                            >Lime takes a moment to breathe. When she replies, confidence comes with her. "So... you can teach Limeade more magic?"

                                            >"I can introduce you, and in time, we may learn together."

                                            >"Really?"

                                            >Dim nods. "Alchemy is a principle gateway for many ponies who find themselves lacking in magic. Magic is abundant in our world, and to harness it, one can atune to an art. We, Limeade, find ourselves drawn to the ebb and flow of matter. And like all matter, ponies willing to pursue this path are limited in number."

                                            >When he finishes, Dim is quite clearly on the verge of smiling.

                                            >"...Then does this mean that you're going to be my guard while I figure out the cool stuff like necromancy?"

                                            >And just like that, all traces of the smile slip away. "No, I agreed to mentor you. And no, I won't let you hurt yourself by—"

                                            >"So you can be my mentor and my guard!"

                                            >"That wasn't what we agreed upon."

                                            >"Too bad! You offered to help me, so now you can protect me!" With a happy hum, she turns. "Come on, Specialist Dim! You can be the first—no, the second pony to see the cool and most magical lair of the All-Powerful Limeade!"


                                            >It's a little buried behind the motley barricade of boards, decaying indoor furnishings, and a few still-spry saplings, but the interior more than makes up for the less than stellar external façade.

                                            >Limeade has spared no expense, here: drapes in all colors of the rainbow (but prominently in green) are strung up along the points where the stony alcove's walls meet the ceiling. Plastered in paints and parchment are messages and designs ranging from basic charts to crude but soulful sketches of landmarks in the area.

                                            >When Dim moves his gaze to inspect the floor of the little mare's lair, he's caught off-guard by one crude sketch in particular.

                                            >The bat and witch pony angled pointedly at one another sends a ruffling laugh through his throat.

                                            >"What was that?"

                                            >"You are... creative."

                                            >Lime seems thoroughly pleased, if her smile is anything to go by.

                                            >She's quick to harden up her visage again, though.

                                            >She throws a hoof out from her place in the center of the alcove. "Behold! Limeade's stuff!"

                                            >"If you think I'd judge you for meager livings, you'd be wrong. I was born to poverty."

                                            >"Limeade is not in poverty!" Lime skips over to one side of the room in order to throw open a thoroughly battered trunk. As she digs inside with a hoof, the cave jingles with the sharp clink of coinage. "She has sold many ades!"

                                            >"I find myself more disbelieving that ponies purchase your work."

                                            >The increasingly pouty mare thumps her trunk shut. "Well, ponies do! I can even show you over here! A look behind the curtains!"

                                            >The evergreen cloth hung on the northernmost wall is the least threadbare of the room's drapes.

                                            >When Dim follows after Lime, she holds true to her word, and parts the curtains.

                                            >"Gaze upon Limeade's most magical possessions!"

                                            >Dim visibly cringes.

                                            >"What?" Lime is unnerved by the instant response. She glances between Dim and her display. "What's wrong?"

                                            >"This is where you work, is it?"

                                            >"Y-yes, this is where Limeade's ades are made!"

                                            >Dim takes a slow, shuddering breath. He flexes his wings, and draws himself deeper into the wakeul nightmare.

                                            >He's seen worse.

                                            >But what's present speaks volumes of Lime's tenacity.

                                            >Without another word, Lime begins her impromptu show-and-tell.

                                            >"Over here is the mystical treasury of jars and other glass holding things!"

                                            >She clinks a hoof against the shaky mound of jars. A few tumble down, but the sturdy glass doesn't shatter.

                                            >Dim's comment is honest. "I'm glad there's no broken glass pile, too."

                                            >"Oh, Limeade moved that... elsewhere!" She not-so subtly kicks against a crate underneath the next section of her display. "And this is the mighty mended table of preparation!"

                                            >The mortar and pestle has certainly seen better days, but like the tools before, it at least isn't cracked.

                                            >Lime's hoof raps against something of a delight to Dim's ears.

                                            >Iron.

                                            >"That is a fine oven, there."

                                            >"Thanks! It's an antique!" Lime blinks, then gives her head a quick shake. "No! This is the steamy wood-fed boiler of... erm, boiling!" She toys with the squeaky front gate of the wood stove.

                                            >But Dim's already moved on.

                                            >"And finally, a hoof-spun blender." He blinks, then turns to directly address Lime. "Not exactly what one would expect in a professional's lab."

                                            >"It's for Limeade's ades! Oh, and smoothies! And other... professional stuff." Lime looks away. "Customers did not want chunks in their potions." She huffs. "Limeade knows they don't understand texture!"

                                            >Dim takes one look around the rest of the lair. There's a makeshift bed and some other personal effects, here, but this little 'alchemy lab' is still the thing that brought him here in the first place.

                                            >"Why don't you make something for me?"

                                            >"A-a recipe?"

                                            >"I'd hope so."

                                            >"O-okay! Limeade will... do so!"

                                            >Dim clears his throat.

                                            >Lime's brow brims with a single sweat drop. "Privately! The process is a trade secret!!!"

                                            >With a big swing of her forelegs, she pulls the lab's drapes closed.

                                            >There's the clink of glass, shifting of wood scraps, the squeaking of iron hinges, the soft crushing of a mortar and pestle, the crackle of hungry flames, and finally...

                                            >Dim just can't hold back his comment. "You're using the blender."

                                            >"Yes, it is very important!" Lime pokes her head out from the curtains, squinting Dim's way. "Be patient! I'm almost done!"

                                            >When Dim squints back, Lime beats a hasty retreat.

                                            >Dim's ears tweak to and fro as the steady Limebeats of the hoof-powered blender shrill through his ears.

                                            >After a finally flourishing pour, Lime peels the curtains back.

                                            >"Ta-da!" Her voice is muffled by the jar in her mouth. She spits it into a hoof, and raises it to Dim. "Ade!"

                                            >The viscous blue mixture contains a swirling cloud within, circulating as a ceaseless current.

                                            >"What is this?"

                                            >"Jokeade!"

                                            >Dim suddenly straightens. His eyes narrow, and his voice tightens. "Is poison joke a component?"

                                            >"Yes, of course! Jokeade needs poison joke, of course!"

                                            >"How did you approach the poison joke?"

                                            >"Um, very carefully?"

                                            >Dim sighs. "Tell me you at least have the cure."

                                            >"Cure? But ponies like buying jokeade for pranks! Why would you cure pranks?"

                                            >Silently, Dim pushes Lime and her ade aside.

                                            >"Hey!"

                                            >His eyes roam over the table. He shakes his head, then looks back at Lime.

                                            >"Stay there. And put down the jar. I'm going to show you the quick cure."

                                            >"Quick cure?"

                                            >"I can always start you a bath of tomato soup and More Mundane elixir."

                                            >"Tomato soup? That's the slow cure?!"

                                            >"No, that's just a way to get you to take the herbal bath."

                                            >"Wha—Limeade bathes!" She pauses. "Wait, what's More Mundane?"

                                            >Dim gives her a pointed look. "Before you learn alchemical alternatives, I want you to know how to do it from a base."

                                            >As Limeade settles in beside Dim, the bat pony slinks into his saddlebag with a wing. He's quick to pick out a brown pouch tied with golden string, and set it against the table.

                                            >"The blossoms, as you know, can be used to create the joke extract." Before he continues, he checks to make sure Lime is listening. "But we can also turn the blossoms against the joke. We just need to prepare them differently. I like to start with removing the stamen..."

                                            >It's a good few minutes of work, and Dim surely takes his time with the brewing process, but when all is said and done, he jars the cerulean result.

                                            >"You didn't use the blender..." Lime mutters.

                                            >"I hope you took notes. I'm only showing you once. Next time, you'll need to figure out the solution yourself."

                                            >"You just keep ingredients on you?"

                                            >"Yes, and a small field production kit, albeit less kinetically powered."

                                            >"...Can Limeade try it, now?"

                                            >"Poison joke takes time to percolate through your system. You'd rather cure yourself now?"

                                            >"Limeade just wants to taste it!"

                                            >Dim frowns.

                                            >Lime already knows. "Yes! Some ponies even buy jokeade for the taste!"

                                            >Shaking his head, Dim passes her the cure. "I'll assure you now that this will not taste as good as any smoothie made in that blender."

                                            >This doesn't slow Lime in the slightest. She immediately unstops the jar, and goes for the kill.

                                            >As she drinks, Dim reflects on the knowledge that he won't be slowing her any time soon.

                                            >But he'll certainly be able to guide her.