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Synopsis: Starlight (begrudgingly) takes Anon to see her old bedroom at Sire's Hollow.
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>"Well, here it is," Starlight says as she leads you into a room.
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>But this isn't just *any* room.
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>You and Starlight are currently in Sire's Hollow—Starlight's home town.
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>And this room—it's her old bedroom.
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>And *what* an old bedroom it is.
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>"He really kept everything *exactly* how I left it… Haha…great…" you hear Starlight grumble.
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>The "He" in this case is her dad: Firelight, and the "great" is her limitless adoration towards her total time capsule of a bedroom.
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>It took no small amount of pleading to convince Starlight to let you in here, but seeing it now—it was undoubtedly worth the effort.
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>This place has been left completely untouched ever since Starlight set off on her questionable quest to "Fight The Power"—and then subsequently lose to "The Power" and become one of the pawns of "The Mare."
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>Dated posters of teenage idols line the dark blue walls alongside moody masks and other bygone baubles.
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>The window curtains are, of course, closed; partially shredded though they may be, they do the best they can to stymie those intrusive illuminating rays coming from that repugnant outside world.
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>The fuzzy carpet covering the floor is also dark blue; it takes you a good few seconds to confirm its colour, though, as it is absolutely littered with all sorts of teenage memorabilia:
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>Opened books, decorative skulls, fake eyeballs buckets of gemstones, a skateboard—and even a thick pair of boots in front of the bed.
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>Starlight Glimmer herself stands by the bedside, looking around; the corners of her mouth are sucked in as she awkwardly and internally reminisces about the state of her room.
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"Gotta say, this room isn't anything like how I expected it."
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>She turns her head to you and huffs.
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>"Well, I *did* warn you."
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>You knew Starlight had a "past," but wow…
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>The difference between this messy mosh pit of a bedroom and her tidy, approachable abode back in Twilight's Castle is like night and day.
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>When Starlight goes through a phase—she really goes all in.
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"Not that it's a bad thing, but phew…"
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>You sniff the air; the first thing that hits your nose is the otherworldly smell of magic lingering in the air—something that can best be described as a "cosmic burning essence."
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>And behind that ethereal scent, there's the loitering fragrance of the various grungy perfumes that Starlight had doubtless lathered herself with during her edgy years.
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"Sure smells like teenage angst in here."
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>Sneaking a glance to the window, you can see that it's closed shut—and it clearly has been left shut for a very long time.
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>When Firelight had said that he kept the room just the way Starlight left it, you now realise he was dead serious about the fact; he went all in—adolescent odours included.
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>Like father, like daughter, you suppose.
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>In fact, the more you sniff, the more of Starlight you can smell, and…
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>You wrinkle your nose.
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"Actually, I think I can smell a bit more than 'angst' in here—"
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>Your vision is suddenly taken up by a translucent off-white veil as the top half of your face is covered up by…something.
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"Mmf!"
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>You feel around your face, touching plastic—Starlight has just forced one of her decade-old face masks onto your mug.
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>Looking through the eyeholes, you see a grumpy, blushing Starlight looking at you.
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>"Alright, that's enough out of you, mister."
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>Well, you can't smell the room any more, so it *should* be enough, but…
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>The mask also smells like Starlight.
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"Just so you know, the mask isn't masking anything."
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>"Urk—!"
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>The greyish mask quickly floats off of your face and Starlight chucks it towards a forgotten corner of the room; it lands on a pile of other baubles that she has likely chucked away in a fit of spontaneity.
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>"Okay! So you've seen it, smelt it. That's all, right? Now we can leave?"
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>She gives you a hopeful, albeit-forced grin.
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"Hold on; here's like three other senses I still need to flex in here."
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>"…Please don't taste my room."
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"Okay, two senses."
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>You a waggle a finger in the air.
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"And I'm still not done looking, for that matter."
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>She sighs in defeat, rolling her eyes.
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>"Fiiine."
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>Her ardent approval acquired, you begin examining the room in earnest.
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>The first thing that catches your attention is right next to you—it's one of the many buckets littering the room that contain a treasure trove of crystals.
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>You pick a crystal up.
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"Ah, these…"
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>You're no magician, but you *do* know that large piles of crystals generally correlate to lots of spells—something about them being great conductors of magical energy.
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>And since there are literally bucketfuls of the rockstuffs here…
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"Practised a lot of magic in this room, I'm guessing?"
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>She nods.
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>"Yeah, there was a lot to practise, especially when I got my, um, cutie mark."
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>Turning your eyes back to the crystal in your hand, you can see something faint swirling around in its misty interior—
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>It's a little equals sign.
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>Probably a touchy subject to pry further.
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"Gotcha."
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>You place the crystal back into the bucket.
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"Because it was either that—or you're actually part dragon with the hoard you've got here."
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>"Ahah…" she nervously chuckles.
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>But she doesn't deny it.
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>Curious… Very curious…
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>Well, anyway, she clearly had all of these magical crystals for a reason.
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>And that reason likely correlates to all of the open spellbooks carelessly scattered all over the carpet.
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"Someone's a messy mare."
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>She sighs.
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>"Yes, I know. I got enough of that from my dad back in the day; I don't need you joining in."
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>You crouch down to pick up one of the books.
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>But before you pick it up, you look to Starlight.
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"May I disturb the timeless antiquity of these hallowed halls?"
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>Her eyes? Rolled.
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>"Sure, go ahead."
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>After picking the book up, you gather a couple more tomes of waylaid magical manuals, soon holding three volumes of mystical voodoo within your arms.
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>There are a few more books littering the floor, but considering how heavy they all are—you don't think that you can hold more than that.
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"I'm…I'm gonna have to set these down…"
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>With a grunt, you gently place the books onto the left side of the bed and sit down next to them.
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>Starlight reluctantly sits down on the side of the books opposite you; she wears a pensive frown on her face.
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>"You know, these books aren't *that* different from the ones we have back home; you really don't have to…"
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"Perhaps, but *those* books weren't studied by the illustrious Starlight Glimmer during her wildest years."
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>"I don't know about 'wild…'"
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"Now, without further ado, let's see what the Starlight of the Past was studying…"
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>Starlight purses her lips as you flip the books to the page containing their table of contents and read out a few choice titles:
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"'Spells to Help Cope with the Loss of a Friend.'"
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"'Summoning Friends From the Great Beyond.'"
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"'Supercharging Your Kites.'"
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"'Getting Rid of Cutie Marks—100% Success Rate!'"
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"'Making Friends Who Can't Say No.'"
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"'Mind Control Spells That Can't Be Detected.'"
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>You raise your head, arching an eyebrow at Starlight.
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>And you slowly, silently shuffle away from her, maintaining eye contact with her all the while.
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>"Wh—hey!" she sputters. "Th-that's all in the past now!"
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>You squint your eyes.
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"…Even the kites?"
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>Her eyes flit to the side.
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>"Well…okay, no—not the kites. I still supercharge them sometimes."
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>You snicker.
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"Hearing you say that has made this trip totally worth it."
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>You shuffle back towards Starlight and extend an arm, reassuringly resting it on her withers.
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"Just messing with you, Glimmy. I know those tyrannical days of ruling villages through mass mind control are long behind you now."
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>Her eyes flick back to you.
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>"Haha…thanks…" She awkwardly smiles.
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>Your eyes shift upwards.
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"But speaking of kites…"
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>You notice some familiar fabric crafts hanging from the ceiling.
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"Can't help but notice you've got a few flyers hanging up there."
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>"Mm-hmm. Even back then, I was *really* into kites."
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"I see…"
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>Much like her room back in the castle, several kites decorate the ceiling, painting a picture of Starlight's favourite hobby.
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>*Unlike* the colourful crafts back in her present bedroom, however, these gloomy gliders are dyed only in the darkest of despondent vibes—moody blues, dull purples, greyish reds…
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>And it's not just the colours; one of the kites over by the corner stands out among the rest—and it's not because of its colouration.
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"Is…is that one using *metal chains* as the bridle?"
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>She nervously chuckles.
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>"Y-yeah. I was really, um, experimental with my kites back then; wanted to see what could fly and what couldn't."
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"Guess that one didn't fly so good."
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>"No, not really, but that's okay. They're all flying high in my room right now, and that's where they'll keep flying."
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>You raise an eyebrow.
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"Wait, you're leaving them all here?"
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>She nods.
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>"Yeah, it's for the best. These kites all belong to past me. Her kites should stay in her room."
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>While you can understand her sentiment, you don't necessarily agree with it.
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>Moody though these kites may be, they're still a part of the mare that you love; it'd be downright wasteful to leave them here.
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"That's a shame. They're all really cute. I think they'd make a great fit for your current room."
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>"Um, cute?" you catch her mumbling.
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"Yeah…" you sigh wistfully.
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>Looking back up, you continue to stare at the kites for a bit longer; you can feel Starlight stealing glances at you every so often.
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>After a few moments, she speaks up.
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>"W-well, maybe we can take one back later. If you really want… Just one."
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>Her eyes flit to the kite in the corner, than back to you.
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>"Not the one with the chain, though."
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"Deal." You smile at her.
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>After closing the books, you pick them up and set them on the bedside table.
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"Now, as I'm sure you know, there's still one sense of mine that's been left untouched."
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>You tap your right ear with a finger for emphasis.
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"And I've gotta address the metalhead elephant in the room here…"
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>You turn around on the bed, looking towards the direction of the window.
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>Right under the window, there's a moderately-sized speaker with a few sinister stickers slapped on its sides.
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>And right next to the speaker—is a guitar.
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>It's a curiously decorated instrument; shaped like a skull and coloured bone white to match—it also has some decorative horns sticking out of the upper bout.
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>You look back at Starlight.
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"So, you played guitar?"
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>She chews her upper lip for a bit before responding.
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>"…Yes. It was all the rage back in the day. Just something to help fill in the void."
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"The 'void,' you say?"
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>You wiggle your eyebrows at her edgy turn of phrase.
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>She quickly clears her throat.
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>"Y-you know what I mean. Anyway, that was ages ago."
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>You nod, humming.
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>And then wordlessly tap your ear again.
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>She blinks at you a few times, then sighs.
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>"Okay, fine. Just…don't laugh, okay? Like I said—it's been a long time."
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>She carefully levitates the guitar over to the other side of the bed in front of her; then, she cradles the instrument against her chest, holding it with her hooves.
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>"That's if this thing still works."
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>She tentatively tests the strings with a forehoof, causing a fresh-sounding *twang* to punch through the air.
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>With how crisp that tone sounded, you wouldn't believe that this guitar had been sitting unattended within a teenager's room for several years; it gives you cause to wonder—maybe this room really *is* a time capsule.
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>Perhaps her dad had used a stasis spell of some kind…
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>Humming in approval, Starlight closes her eyes and begins to play.
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>Surprisingly, she uses her hooves to strum the strings, not her magic.
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>The tune she plays is a melancholic one—one that speaks of her solitude during the later years she had spent at Sire's Hollow.
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>It slowly builds in tempo as her loneliness turns to bitterness—and then to resentment.
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>The shut-in mare, bereft of friends to rely upon during her darkest hours, turns to her books—and the magic contained within.
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>She reads on and on, and the raw resentment that festers within her body becomes tempered—focused.
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>Magic was all that kept her company during those years.
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>And it's that very same magic that could change the world—that *will* change the world.
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>Her song speaks to you through every step of her magical journey:
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>Every spell scuffed; every charm comprehended; every malediction mastered.
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>The tune is no doubt a little off-key at points, but it's nonetheless literal music to your ears.
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>After all, it's her—and her purest emotions laid bare.
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>The song reaches its crescendo as she perfects the one spell that will set her plan in motion: the Cutie Unmarking—and the beatitude of her breakthrough.
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>Of course, after every victorious peak comes the wind down; Starlight bids farewell to her home town, and she sets off into the horizon—to forge her own destiny.
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>And so the song draws to a close.
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>As she finishes her ballad, she turns her head towards you.
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>"There," she states.
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>You gave the musician of your dreams a standing ovation.
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"That was amazing!"
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>She blushes, quickly shaking her head.
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>"I-it…it really wasn't. I'm out of practise, big time."
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>You dial down your standing ovation into mere sitting praise.
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"If that was you 'out of practise,' then I *need* to see 'in practise' Starlight. That song *spoke* to me."
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>"Hope it didn't *say* anything embarrassing…" she mumbles.
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"On the contrary, that was a beautiful ballad. You're a natural maestro, Starlight."
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>You focus your gaze on the guitar.
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"We're definitely bringing this beauty back, right?"
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>Starlight blinks at you a few times, before her eyes widen.
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>"Th-this thing? N-no! Absolutely not!" She rapidly shakes her head. "It's so…so tacky! I'm not bringing this thing anywhere near my room!"
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>Her rigid refusal lowers your spirits somewhat; you doubt that she'll budge on this like she did with the kites.
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>But still…
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"If we really can't bring this one back, how about we get a more normal-looking guitar for your home back in Ponyville?"
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>She purses her lips at you briefly.
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>"That 'normal-looking' guitar will be coming out of *your* budget, you know. And I make no guarantees that I'll even touch it."
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>So she's saying there's a chance…
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"Perfectly fine with me." You smile.
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>She sees your smile and breaks eye contact, flushing her blush.
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>"…Come on, Anon; all I did was strum a few strings. It can't have been that good."
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"I'm one-hundred-percent serious. I'd love to hear you play more."
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>"If you want to listen to a pony playing guitar, then…I dunno, can't you just go to a concert or something? There's plenty of those back in Ponyville."
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>You shake your head and rest a hand upon her shoulder.
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"I don't want to 'go to a concert;' I want to listen to you, Starlight."
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>She quickly opens her mouth to speak, but opts to close it soon after, turning her gaze back to her guitar.
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>After staring at it for a few seconds, she mumbles to herself.
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>"Well I…m-maybe…"
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>She absent-mindedly strums the guitar's strings a little more, before stopping herself.
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>"Um, a-anyway!"
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>She carefully lifts the guitar with her magic, and lays it back in the corner where you had first saw it.
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>Once that's done, she hops off of the bed and turns to face you with a wide smile that's eager to usher you out of here.
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>"That's the full tour of my room finished, wouldn't you say? I say it's time for us to go and get out there—explore the rest of what this wonderful town has to offer!"
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>She turns around, ready to head to the bedroom door.
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"Now hold on there, Glimmy. There's one more thing I'd like to go over with you while we're here."
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>She turns back to you, raising an eyebrow.
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>"…Does it *have* to be in here?"
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>You grin.
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"Ooh yes. This room is perfect for it."
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>You pat the spot next to you on the bed, and she reluctantly hops back on.
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>"Ugh, fiiine. What is it?" She sighs.
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"Your dad gave me something."
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>"He…did?" She tilts her head.
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>You slowly reach into your bag, drawing out the suspense.
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>Starlight's eyes monitor your movements with suspicion, and when she catches a glimpse of what you're bringing out—
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>"No. No—he didn't."
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"He totally did."
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>You bring out a book from your bag, and on the front, it's labelled:
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>'Pumpky-Wumpkin's Photo Album.'
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>Out of the corner of your eye, you see Starlight's horn beginning to light up—
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>And you firmly press your finger against it, giving her horn a disorienting boop and preventing her from casting whatever "please don't look at my most embarrassing fillyhood memories" spell that she had planned.
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>"O-ow! Hey!" She yelps, flinching slightly.
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"Nope. No backsies. We are absolutely going through this."
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>She shoots you a pleading look.
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>"Anon, please. Don't do this. Some memories are better left unseen."
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"Aw, hey, it can't be that bad, I mean look—"
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>You quickly open the album to the first page as Starlight pre-emptively cringes, closing her eyes.
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"—here you are as an adorable little baby!"
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>Starlight slowly opens her eyes.
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>Photos of her as a little baby foal decorate both pages of the album.
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>She sighs in what sounds like relief.
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>"Oh. Yeah, I guess."
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>From carpet to chair to crib—this album has it all when it comes to showcasing baby Starlight in a wide range of home-bound locales.
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>The next pages are also chock-full of her baby pictures.
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>As are the next.
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>…As are the next.
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"Wow, your dad took a *lot* of photos of you as a baby."
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>Starlight awkwardly laughs.
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>"Yeah, he really did…b-but wait—"
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>She rests a forehoof on the pages of the album, preventing you from flipping any further.
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>"Let's stop while we're ahead, okay? You've seen me as a baby—that should be enough, right?"
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>She gives you a nervous grin.
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>You give her a deadpan stare.
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"This is not nearly enough."
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>You gently push her hoof off of the album as she groans in frustration.
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>Turning over a few more pages, you find photos of her as a filly:
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>Some of her playing with her childhood friend: Sunburst;
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>Then, some of her awkwardly standing next to a few other foals;
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>And then some of her sitting in her room by her lonesome, levitating some blocks.
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"Ah…"
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>You think you're getting the picture here.
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>Of how her only friend left her for academic pastures and kick-started her spell of solitude.
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>Starlight glances at the photos of her now-lonesome past self and frowns.
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>"Yeah, now do you see? I…I didn't want you to see that part of my life. They aren't pleasant memories by any means."
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"Sorry, Glimmy. Didn't mean to dredge up those awkward memories."
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>You only wanted to peruse the photos that potentially contain the most embarrassing moments of her early years—which is perfectly a-okay in your books.
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>"Well, it's alright. That's all in the past now. Sunburst and I have made up, and…"
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>She nuzzles against you.
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>"I have you now, too."
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>A blush crosses her face as she quickly appends her statement.
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>"A-and everypony else, of course."
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>So, she didn't want you to see her when she was a lonely filly?
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>Starlight clearly doesn't look back on those friendless years with any fondness, that much is certain.
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>But is that really all there is to it?
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>Glancing back at the album, you're only a third of the way in…
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>"Anyway, you can close it now."
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"Hm?"
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>She rests her hoof on the album again.
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>"You've had your fun now, right? Now you can give this thing back to my dad and we can finally get out of here."
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>You make eye contact with her.
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"But there's still more than half of the album left."
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>She blinks at you.
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>"Anon, please close it."
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"It can't all be filly pictures, can it?"
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>She blinks at you again—slower, this time.
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>"I…"
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>You can feel a rising tension in the air.
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>"I am no longer asking."
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>She narrows her eyes, taking a stern tone.
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>"Close it."
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>Ah, there it is; you can see it in her body language—
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>The stilted posture, the steely eyes, the strong hoof-grip on the album.
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>You're on the cusp of that juicy, juicy backstory.
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>A veritable feast of Starlight's unspoken past awaits your eyes.
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>But the lilac dragon herself blocks the way to the hoard.
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>She's a vengeful, highly magical sort; even if you were to lay eyes on your prize, there's no telling what she'd do to you as payback.
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>She has given you an out—a chance to back away from the dragon's den with all previous sins forgiven.
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>But you are Anonymous.
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>And you do not simply *close* a half-opened photo album.
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>You squint your eyes.
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>And you swiftly raise one of your hands, snaking it under one of her ears and giving her a surprise ear scritch.
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>"Ngh!"
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>She tenses up, briefly taking her hoof of the album—
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>And that's your opening.
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>You quickly roll over the other side of the bed, holding the album close to your chest.
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>"No!"
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>Landing on your front with the album directly under you, you feel Starlight leap onto your back.
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>"Give it…here!"
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>She frantically waggles her forehooves around your front, desperately reaching out to grab the photo album in your arms.
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>Thanks to your proud, tall humanoid physique—it is all too easy to shift your weight around to keep the album away from her short pony limbs.
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>But you'll have to think of something soon; it's only a matter of time before she starts getting *magical* ideas.
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>What to do, what to do…ah!
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>Starlight's bed has been in a perpetual state of being messily unmade for many, many timeless years; her bed covers limply lay off of the bed over in one corner—and they shall be your ticket to throw her off.
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>Carefully taking one arm off the album, you reach out to the bed covers; once your grip is secured, you toss them upwards towards you—and the pony latched onto your back.
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>The bed covers gracefully fall atop the two of you, covering you both.
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>"Wh-whah?!" she yelps.
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>Incidentally, these sheets *really* smell like her.
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>In her confusion, she releases her grip on you and raises her hooves upwards, trying in vain to the pry the smelly bed covers off.
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>Making full use of the opportunity that you've provided yourself with, you roll away, quickly escaping the purple prison of Starlight's bed covers.
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>Turning around, you see Starlight—or rather, you see an entity clothed in the purplest of blankets angrily flailing around on the bed, trying to escape its constraints.
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"Ahah…sorry Glimmy."
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>"ANONYMOUS! When I get out of here…!" she yells from within her bedspread bundle.
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>Her tone is spine-tingling, but you know that you've bought yourself ample time; bed covers are a pony's natural enemy—especially Starlight's.
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>Ample though it may be, it's time you don't intend to waste, regardless; you quickly skim through the next pages of the album.
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>More filly Starlight—followed by even *more* filly Starlight.
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>You've gotta hand it to her dad, he was nothing but thorough when it came to cataloguing every step of his daughter's life.
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>Judging by some of the photos, he *literally* catalogued every step that she took.
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>Yep, time to skim faster.
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>Starlight as a filly,
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>Starlight as a filly,
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>Filly as a Starlight,
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>Starlight as a filly—
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"Hey, you've got your cutie mark in this one."
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>"Oh, believe me—you're gonna see *exactly* what this cutie mark can do once I get out of here!"
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>Chills.
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>Also, excitement.
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>Also, the purple blanket charges at you.
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>You deftly dodge, rolling to the side.
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>She crashes into the bed's head rest—right into that fake skull adorning the top of it.
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>You'd feel bad, but you quickly realise that you'll have plenty of time to feel bad later.
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>Back to the album.
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>Well, she's casting a lot more magic now.
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>In one photo, she lifts the entire dining room table with a furious expression on her face—perhaps it had something to do with the sprouts on her dinner plate.
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>In another, she is levitating herself off of the ground; she looks somewhat nervous at her aerial suspension, but the photo is taken directly under her, indicating that her dad was ready to catch her if she fell.
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>You're not sure whether to appreciate or admonish this pony for taking pictures of her daughter at every possible opportunity he can, even when she's in distress.
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>As her magical prowess grows, so does she.
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>You see some photos of her entering that awkward, lanky horse stage of her teenage years.
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>Her countenance has evolved from sad sourness to dismal dourness.
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>The teenage angst must be coming in hard.
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>You're about two-thirds through the album now—
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>"Anon," the purple blanket speaks to you.
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>You warily shift your eyes up from the album, scanning the mobile bedspread for any sudden movements.
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>"If you close the album right now, I'll forget all about this, and we can let this be water under the bridge, okay?"
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>Her tone is pleading, laden with desperation.
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>You know now, without a doubt, that whatever she doesn't want you to see is just around the corner.
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>But you also feel pretty bad.
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>You'll just have to make it up to her later.
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"Sorry Glimmy, but I—"
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>She makes one last leap at you to take back the album.
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>Unfortunately for her, you had anticipated this, and you casually side roll her latest attack.
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>"Uuugh…" she weakly groans upon realising that her brash bound hasn't bound anything.
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"Come on, Starlight. Don't you think you're overreacting just a *little* bit? They're just photos."
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>You turn to the next page of the album.
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"I mean it can't be—oh."
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>On the next page, you see photos of Starlight Glimmer—at least, you *think* it's Starlight Glimmer; the equine captured within these next photographs certainly resembles her in some fashion.
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>The lilac mare in these pictures is still a teenager, but she's taken on an interesting change of wardrobe.
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>She is dressed to the nines—or rather, the six-six-sixes.
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>She wears a black pleather vest, with matching black highlights for her mane and tail.
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>Her eyes almost look like miniature black holes with how much black eyeshadow she's using.
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>Anarchic accessories of all kinds adorn her very being:
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>She has skull earrings, perfect for showcasing how dead she feels inside;
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>A spiked collar, which likely doubles as an deterrent against surprise parental nuzzles;
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>Studded bracelets, with one for her tail, too;
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>And you just can't forget those oversized boots for her hindlegs—only for her hindlegs, though; her forelegs pull double duty when it comes to showing off her rebellious bracelets.
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>It feels like even just looking at these photos of her will cut you on her edge.
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>Actually, you think you feel a paper cut coming on…
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"Oh wow," you state.
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>You hear the springs of the mattress straining as the bedspread beast crumples down in defeat.
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>Cautiously, you crawl over to the mass of purple fabric; you slowly lift the bed sheets up…
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>And a turquoise force quickly slams them back down.
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>"Leave me alone."
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"Don't you want to look at these photos with me?"
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>"No. I *don't* want to look at those awful photos. In fact, I *don't* want to ever be seen again, not by you or anypony else."
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>She groans, slumping even further down.
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>"Just leave me be. Let me perish."
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>You gently pat the dejected lump of purple.
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"I'd never live it down if I left you to suffocate in your old unwashed bedsheets."
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>"Good. Maybe then you'll feel some measure of remorse for the torment that you've put me through today."
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"'Torment?' Come on, Glimmy, they aren't that bad. Like I said—they're just photos."
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>"They are *not* just photos," she snaps. "They're visual reminders from the most embarrassing time of my life. They're just…ugh…they're sooo bad…"
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>Sitting down next to the almost-flatlined bedspread, you peruse the photo album once more.
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>You note that the pictures that are set in her bedroom have all been carefully captured at a safe distance through an opening in the bedroom door—right next to the "No Dads Allowed" sign hanging off it.
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>There are some photos of her playing her skull-themed guitar, and there are some her wearing some headphones while she reads through a book that doubtless contains all sorts of dark spells.
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>She occasionally changes up her look as the photos go on; switching up her skull earrings for spider-themed ones, and changing her black mane highlights for red ones.
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>As you continue to look through the photos of her punk phase, you find yourself coming to a steady, powerful realisation.
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>She really rocks that look.
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"You know, even back then, you were pretty cute."
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>She takes a few seconds to respond.
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>"…Shut up."
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"Hm, how about sexy, then?"
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>You see the bottom of the bed covers glow turquoise as they lift up slightly…
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>And a lilac hoof attempts to swipe at your leg from under the covers.
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"Whoa!"
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>Thankfully, her range is short and her aim is half-hearted, so a minor shuffle of your knees places you firmly out of harms way from this highly aggressive mare.
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"Okay, okay. What *do* you want to hear from me?"
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>You hear a muffled huff.
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>"I want you to stop buttering me up. Your empty praise is just making me feel worse."
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"But what if I told you that it *wasn't* empty praise?"
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>"Then…"
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>She slowly lifts the bed covers once more, presumably to take a second shot at you—
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>But you seize the chance to yank them up all the way, flinging them away from the bed and away from her.
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>"Ah!" Starlight yelps, fully exposed.
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>She stares at you for a brief second, wide-eyed.
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>Then she suddenly lunges at you, forcing you onto your back with her face directly above yours.
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>With an angry pout and piercing eyes, she silently glares down at you, judging every emotion present on your face.
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>You silently stare up at her with a nervous smile.
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>Several seconds into this tense and silent stare down, her glare falters and she swallows a lump in her throat.
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>She rolls off of you and sits up on her haunches, facing away from you.
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>You sit up and look at her.
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"Hey, Starlight."
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>"Hmph."
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"I really do mean it, you know."
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>"Sure you do."
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"Aw, come on. Are you really that ashamed of that part of your life?"
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>"Yes!" She gesticulates with her forehooves. "It's worse than…it's worse than the whole Equality thing! *That's* how bad it is!"
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>Photo album still in hand, you manoeuvre to the edge of the bed and resume your look-through of her past.
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>Within the pages, you can't help but notice how her face consistently holds that "I'm so done with life" scowl across every photo—it's downright impressive.
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>She has it even when her dad manages to drag her out of her bedroom into the kitchen for lunch.
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>And even on her birthday, next to her birthday cake.
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"Now I wish I had brought my own photo album back from my world. I have some colourful memories of my own past from when I was younger."
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>From behind where you're sitting, you can hear Starlight huff.
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>"Well, you didn't, so it's only *my* awkward past that you can laugh at."
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"Aw, Glimmy, don't be like that; do I sound like I'm laughing?"
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>"No…but you're laughing on the inside, I bet."
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"I'm actually loving you even more on the inside."
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>The bed creaks as Starlight shuffles over to the spot next you on the edge of the bed.
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>She then gives you a light jab in the side with a forehoof.
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>"Stop that."
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"Only if you agree to look at the rest of these photos with me."
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>She rolls her eyes, but doesn't bat the album out of your hands or leap away from the scene—which is promising.
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>You turn the page, letting your eyes be graced with more photos of a punkish Starlight; a lot of them are of her in her bedroom with her headphones on.
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>Nothing stands out to you among these pages, but with Starlight right next to you, there's a question you want to ask.
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"By the way, what kind of music did you listen to?"
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>You look at Starlight, who has silently been looking at the photo album with you.
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>She sees your gaze and awkwardly looks away, pursing her lips.
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>"Oh, um…stuff…"
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"Uh huh…?"
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>"Yeah. Stuff."
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"What kind of 'stuff?'"
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>She chews her lip for a bit before answering.
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>"Y-you know, um…rock music."
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"Just rock?"
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>"Like, hardcore rock…" she mumbles. "Songs about friendships gone bad; songs about how unfair life is; songs about toppling Celestia's reign and establishing an anarchic society…"
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>You slowly nod.
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"Mm, I see."
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>You can't help but wonder just how much of her plan as an evil Equality mare came from the songs she listened to as a teen.
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>…But if they *did* contribute to any buildings plots of world domination—then they must be total bangers.
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"Well, if you have any records lying around in here. We should take them with us; I'd love to listen to these songs with you some day."
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>Starlight sighs, turning back to you.
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>"Kites, guitar, old records…building up quite the shopping list, aren't we?"
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"Hey, if it's Glimmy-related—I'm interested."
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>She rolls her eyes.
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>"If you're *really* sure, then I suppose we can grab a few of the classics from the drawer."
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>Huh, you expected a little more pushback from her there, but you're certainly not complaining.
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>"…You just can't get enough of this room, can you?"
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"Hah, of course. To me, everything that you've done in this room is a vital part of the mare that I love."
-
-
>She reaches out a hoof towards you—
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>But instead of giving you another warning jab, she gently rests it against your arm, slowly caressing it.
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>"Hey, didn't you hear me earlier? Stop sweet talking me," she speaks in a strangely soft tone.
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>You turn back to the photo album with a smile.
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"Hey, it's not sweet talking if it's the truth, right?"
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>"I mean it, Nonny… That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble…" she breathily whispers.
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>Flipping through another page in the album, you can still feel Starlight's gaze upon you, as well as her hoof against your arm.
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>In the photos, you see punk Starlight crafting some suitably punk kites.
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>One photo in particular has her holding a metal chain by her teeth while she tries to wrap it around a kite spar.
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"Oh, this one must have been the kite you made with the chain."
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>Your eyes briefly flit upwards to spy the chain kite still hanging from the ceiling.
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"Seriously, flyable or not, it's impressive you were able to put something like that together; you really are a natural prodigy at kites."
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>The Starlight in the present does not respond, but you're too invested in the album to wonder why.
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>Scanning through the next few photos, you see Starlight maintaining her skull guitar, and then playing it.
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>That reminds you—you're still gonna need to buy one for her later.
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"Stylish kites, great taste in music, and excellent fashion sense—really, Glimmy, I don't know why you'd ever be ashamed of this part of your life. I'm certainly a fan."
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>Starlight lets out another sigh next to you.
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>But this time, it's a deep, drawn-out sigh—one that sends a shiver up your spine and gives you pause.
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>Even while you look upon the album, you can still feel it: her eyes haven't left your face—and her hoof has been absent-mindedly rubbing your arm this entire time.
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>So, you gently set the album down on your other side and turn to face her.
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"Is everything alright, Glim—oh."
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>As you make eye contact with her, you notice something—
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>She's got hearts in her eyes.
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>Like literally—she has cartoonish pink hearts swirling around in her saucepan-sized pupils.
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>Her lips are slightly parted as she stares right at you.
-
>While the sight of hearts swimming within her eyeballs takes you aback, it's not entirely alien to you.
-
>You've heard tales of how these "heart pupils" can emerge within the eyes of Equestrians.
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>Usually, they form as a result of certain spells cast with certain intent, but right here—they seem to have come about as a completely natural occurrence.
-
>How strange.
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>What a peculiar phenomenon of pony physiology.
-
>And it's one that you find yourself the direct recipient of.
-
>Here, in her old bedroom.
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>Sitting on her old bed.
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>With her.
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>Oh.
-
"H-hey, um, Starlight, maybe we can talk—"
-
>"No."
-
>Without any more hesitation, she pushes you down onto the bed—
-
>And Anon never stood a chance.
by Glimbrain
by Glimbrain
by Glimbrain
by Glimbrain
by Glimbrain