Ponyville typically didn't treat the Bearers with reverence, and Twilight usually saw that as a good thing.

When the group had to travel... well, during the earliest missions, the typical out-of-town reaction to their arrival started with "...who?" and went downhill from there. But it hadn't lasted. They'd been through adventures, they'd benefited from experience, and because the group had a distinct tendency to create collateral damage, the Guards had eventually figured out that if the mares weren't at the pick-up point on time, the first (and pretty much only) place to check was the nearest jail cell. It had been starting to give them something of a reputation --

-- but then Twilight had changed. And while it was (in a very few, extremely limited ways) good for the populace to have an automatic focus point of recognition, she'd also discovered that most of the country had a distressing tendency to work an equation of Horn + Wings = Is, At A Minimum, In Full Possession Of All The Facts. She generally wasn't. Too many of the missions still found the group more or less making it up as they went along, and to have entire towns looking towards her as a symbol of authority...

But Ponyville had more experience with the Bearers than anywhere else on the planet, and so recognized a fundamental truth: their heroines could be relied on to save the day, and what they would frequently be saving it from was themselves. There was no disaster so great that a Bearer wasn't capable of starting it. Just the presence of the six often seemed to serve as a magnetic pole steadily pulling in weirdness, and so a few of the town's residents didn't see them quite so much as The Reason I'm Still Alive as The Reason I'm Filling Out Disaster Relief Forms Again. Even Twilight recognized that the oddities had a tendency to accumulate, and had stopped doing the actual statistical analysis once the depression had begun to set in.

Ponyville knew them (or collectively thought it did), the good and the bad. For Rainbow, that was annoying, because the weather coordinator still believed the best part of being a hometown heroine should have been free food, endless lines of potential partners vying for her touch, and a little open worship was nice. But for Twilight, the opposite could be a precious thing. To end a mission full of stares and spontaneous requests for advice and ponies counting on her to come home and just be... normal. A normal librarian in a not-so-normal town, who was simply treated normally... it was nice.

It was also an illusion.

Ponyville typically didn't treat the Bearers with reverence: it simply knew them too well for that. But it didn't necessarily treat them normally. There were ways in which 'reverence' was nothing more than the base word for something else entirely and to make a fully deliberate internal spelling mistake in the name of irony, Twilight would end that cool spring day realizing that so many of her beliefs had been in 'ir'ror.

It was the sort of spring morning which almost forced patrons into the library: too close to the Wrap-Up for warmth to have fully settled in, with a chill breeze coming in from the west. In that kind of weather, ponies tended to go for the books which weren't so much novels as pure potboilers, warming their fur by curling up around overheated verbiage. If she listened carefully, she could hear pages being nosed throughout the tree, and it would have been truly nice if that had been all she was hearing.

With the tree so crowded -- at least thirty ponies, no more than two of whom had mastered the delicate art of putting something back where they'd originally found it -- peace was at a premium. And so Twilight was... well, sneaking.

She had to sneak. The whole point of catching ponies who were making too much noise was to catch them doing it. If they heard or saw her coming, they would stop and -- all right, having them stop was certainly welcome, but if she didn't catch them in the act, they would just go back to breaking the rules at the moment they believed she was out of range. True enforcement of library law required stealth, and so she'd been sneaking down the aisles with all the skill a small, rather non-physical alicorn who still didn't have full control over her wings could muster: not much.

(She wasn't even using her stealth suit. It wasn't cut for wings and anyway, she was no longer sure it worked.)

Several browsing patrons glanced down as her lowered body brushed against them.

"Um," Rumble managed.

"Shhhh!" Twilight hissed, just as a not-very-distant raucous laugh did its best to ruin everypony's collective reading experience.

Rumble shut up, and Twilight continued to let her barrel sweep the floor. Her latest targets were just a little bit ahead: she had picked up on the babble of their disruptive conversation at a distance. Talking about books was fine. Laughing at something funny in a book showed the writer knew what they were doing, plus there was a chance for Twilight to jot down the title for the next time she needed a laugh. But when ponies were being that loud...

It was the second day back from a mission which had seen strange magic and horrible monsters and worst of all, ponies who'd decided they didn't have to personally think about how to deal with any of it as long as she was there to do the thinking for them. In the wake of that, maintaining the peace of the library was normal and as far as Twilight was concerned, so was getting a chance to restore it. The disruptive group was in a natural alcove created by the gap between International Literature and the periodicals racks. She was almost there. She was getting close enough to make out what they were saying...

"...no way! I didn't think it could ever go that badly!" pealed an overly-delighted (and just as overly-loud) mare. "I thought for sure you'd be there all night! After you got him out of the bar..."

Another mare laughed, and did so mostly on technicality because the dictionary had nothing brief and suitable for 'a near-barking collection of snorts which imply both a deviated septum and a total lack of spacial awareness: i.e. no bucking idea that she is currently in a library.' "I know! I swear on Cadance's plushy butt --"

Twilight paused. Forced wings whose joints had just tightened with anger to loosen again, pushed on.

"-- that when I picked him up..." Giggling now (because the dictionary didn't contain anything shorthoof for 'a bunch of gravel tossed into a working dryer alongside a family of possums who really, really hate being pelted by said gravel' either), "...well, you saw me! You know what I get like after a couple of drinks! Sex: that's all I thought he was good for!"

...actually, maybe she was better off letting this conversation burn itself out. Sure, the actual readers in the library would be disrupted for a longer period, but by the time she got out of the restroom and all the cold water Twilight was about to splash on her suddenly-flushed face had stopped dripping from her fur, it might have ended anyway...

"Not conversation, not even cuddling: just some sex. And you know I wouldn't have targeted him if I didn't think he was going to give me an Applejack!"

The librarian froze.

Did she just say...

"I thought Applejacking was all he was good for!" a third mare delightedly chimed in. "All he was capable of, as far as that goes!" With a sudden drop into gleeful thought, "Well, after watching him move, I suppose there was a chance he might Rainbow..."

It would have been difficult for Twilight to describe what was happening in her head. The topic was sex. The words being used to describe it were the names of her friends, and so the burning sensation which had been running across her features turned cold: the outwards expression of the internal collisions, where ninety percent of the true crash was happening below the surface.

Her eyelids twitched. Her brain was desperately trying to steer away from a full-speed impact and found itself skidding into the wall.

One more body length. Just one more and she could stand up, make herself visible, stop this...

"You're horrible!" the first mare tittered. "And after all that..."

"After all that," the second one graveled, "once he finally got started... all I wanted to do was Twilight Sparkle!"

The inner wall shattered. A few of the pieces ricocheted into the knees, which at least got them to straighten out.

"Excuse me."

The three resting mares (two earth ponies, one pegasus, all within five years or so of Twilight's age and none completely having sobered up from the night before) stopped. Looked to the left and found an alicorn who had pulled herself up to what passed for her full height, which generally meant about as much as a parasprite going in for ramming speed. When it came to full height, Twilight didn't have much for pulling herself up to, and it meant her physical presence had always been something less than intimidating. However, when it came to inducing fear in those she confronted, the often-unexpected addition of 'alicorn' to the description meant rather a lot.

"You're. being. very. loud." Each of the words had been bitten off into its own sentence, and her teeth ground after every release.

"...sorry," the mare with the horrible laugh quickly said, her wings starting to unfurl from the rest position. "We're sorry. We're very sorry. We'll just be --"

"-- and I couldn't help but notice your topic," Twilight just barely managed to vocalize. "You were talking about... about..."

She swallowed. All that did was provide the earth ponies with time in which to stand.

...um...

She tried to picture what they might have truly been talking about, and found her own imagination trying to shut down in self-defense.

She didn't want to know.

She really didn't want to know.

She had to know.

"...actually," Twilight finally said, "what does that mean? What under Moon is a... a..."

"WE'REVERYSORRYWE'LLBEGOINGNOWBYE!"

It was very nearly a perfect chorus, with only the implied landslide from the pegasus marring it. And then the three mares were heading for the exit, one racing through the air while two had their hooves pound against wood and anything which might have been in the way, which meant Twilight got to hear Rumble's yelp as the colt barely cleared the path in time.

The doors slammed. Several books finished vibrating their way off the shelves, which gave Rumble something new to dodge. And feeling oddly alone among the sound of plummeting hardcovers, Twilight stared at sudden vacuum. Something which was fully incapable of answering her question.

She voiced it anyway, in the hopes that doing so would let it fully exit mind as well as throat. Make her stop thinking about it.

"...what's a me?"

It did not.

There were Procedures for gathering her friends in an emergency, and Twilight had found all of them complicated by the sudden loss of Step One. In theory, she always had the option to ask Spike for a desperate round of scroll-sending, and he always had the option to try reading whatever he'd just been given. (Passing over sealed scrolls was just begging to incite the little dragon's curiosity, and dictating the message had clearly been right out.) Besides, he was enjoying the post-mission return to normalcy by going outside to play: the weekend provided any number of colts and fillies who were ready to welcome him home, and calling him back to the tree for... this... no.

So she'd been forced to commission a pegasus, hoping unto Sun that professionalism would prevent the grey mare from gossiping to the townsponies about the unexpected gathering. And after a much longer delay than the flame-boosted usual, they were assembled in the basement, camped out among equipment which had been fully shut down for the occasion because despite what should have been previous explosion-based experience, Rainbow still occasionally wanted to know what that flask did.

Twilight had just finished telling them why she'd called them all in. (The whole of what she'd been able to manage in the letters was along the lines of 'please come, nothing's at risk, there's no missions or anything, but I NEED YOU ALL RIGHT NOW', and that had been after twenty edits.) It had taken several minutes, along with multiple breaks for water.

They were staring at her. She'd expected that. Staring seemed to be pretty much required.

"Three of us," the little librarian helplessly said. "They were using three of our names for -- for -- I don't even know!" Feathers appeared to be independently wringing themselves. "I just know it's associated with having sex! But not what kind, or why!" More timidly, "They're talking about us like we're something you do..."

"So it's like a euphemism," Applejack tightly said -- and then the hat shifted as green eyes brightened. "Naw! It's a you-phemism!"

The stares now had a new central target.

"Because it's... it's a euphemism -- 'bout you..." The hat dipped, shading her face while failing to block the mutter. "Bet y'would've laughed if Pinkie said it."

"I'm pretty sure everypony would have just stared at me," the baker gently countered. "Including me, and that's really really hard to do. Twilight, please sit down with us. You're all worked up, you're just about dripping with sweat, you need to calm down..."

"I can't!" the alicorn gasped. "Not with this! Not when ponies are talking about all of us like -- like that!"

Rainbow looked oddly thoughtful.

"Bet you mine's awesome."

Rarity took a slow breath. "Rainbow," the designer carefully began, "this is perhaps not the time --"

"-- it's something to do with sex and it's named after me," the weather coordinator grinned. "And she was hoping he could do it, so it's not something everypony can do! So how can it not be awesome!" Her right forehoof rubbed against her chin. "I'm thinking three orgasms." More hastily, "No. Four. At least four."

"But with me," Twilight helplessly said, "it was like they were talking about something bad. I don't... I can't..." She swallowed again, thought about those who were still watching her with concern, drew in strength. "I don't want to know and -- I can't keep going if I don't. It's too weird. I want to find out what it is and then I want to make it stop. How do we do that?"

And now everypony was deep in thought, with one lowered yellow head almost completely buried under its own mane.

"Unappreciated wordplay aside," Applejack slowly said, "Ah don't like it. It's a little too personal, y'know? She wanted him t' give her a me, an' it makes me wanna give her a kickin'. Twi, Ah don't s'ppose y'recognized 'em?"

The smallest mare wearily shook her head. "More new arrivals, Applejack: they've been around for a few moons, but I haven't really met them. I can't keep up with all the ponies who've been moving here."

"...um," Fluttershy said. Everypony missed it.

"To connect one's name with a sexual act," Rarity tightly added, "is not necessarily a display of respect. Especially given the context in which Twilight's was utilized. And to have three of our names invoked makes it rather easy to suspect all six of us have been treated in such a matter." The purple tail lashed, hard enough to straighten the tip curl. "At the very least, we must discover which acts have been tied to our persons."

"I don't want anypony to get the wrong impression!" Pinkie insisted. "There's things I would never do! And things which have to be done properly!" She was looking around at the others. "Things which ponies shouldn't be associating with me. Things where..." She shuddered. "We'd better find out."

Applejack's nod came with enough force to briefly vibrate a shut-down burner. "Yeah. An' the sooner, the better. Like today. Ah can give up the rest of mah shift for that. This is too important."

"But how do we find out?" Twilight desperately asked.

"We shall..." Another lash, and blue eyes narrowed quickly enough to make false lashes slip. "...make inquires."

"...um," Fluttershy repeated. This was overlooked.

"Let us give ourselves... four hours," Rarity continued. "We each head out or in some cases, back. For my part, I shall reopen the Boutique. Ponies often gossip while in the shop. I shall simply listen closely, and perhaps make an attempt to -- steer the conversation. So some to our businesses, and others to the streets. Wherever we feel we can best gather information. Fluttershy, I suppose that would be the cottage for you."

"...um..."

"I don't think anypony's going to talk about it in the library," Twilight softly groaned. "Not after that. Those mares might be warning everypony right now!"

"Then we've gotta move fast," Applejack declared as she stood up. "We all come back here in four hours t' compare notes. See how we did. Twi, any problems in closin' the library again?" The farmer briefly frowned. "Actually, any problems closin' it out of nowhere the first time?"

"No," Twilight miserably stated. "It's me. Or it's us. With all the missions and emergencies, I think everypony's more surprised when I get a normal workday in. Ponies start moving for the door if I look at it too long. But where do I go? I can't... I don't know how to ask when it's..." Her wings helplessly drooped. "...sex..."

Rarity's response was a soft sigh, added to a slow swish of the anger-damaged tail as she began to push herself upright. "You have had something of a shock, dear. Take some time to recover and if you feel unable to face the task, then allow us to haul the burden for you. In any case, it would be rather difficult for us to inquire about our own --"

Rainbow grinned. "I know just where to start for mine!"

Wings flared. Wind backblasted against everypony's fur. Several doors got out of the way.

"-- definitions," Rarity finished. "And when it comes to subtlety in the inquiries --"

The designer blinked.

"Rainbow just left."

Everypony nodded.

"To make her own investigations."

Again.

"Subtly."

There didn't seem to be any possible response for that.

The white unicorn managed a breath. "Perhaps we should hurry."

"...um..."

Which was lost in the sound of fast-moving hooves pounding their way up the ramp.

Fluttershy unsteadily got up, looking around the empty basement. Sighed, wearily shook her head, and slowly walked towards the exit.

When it came to investigations, Rainbow had two distinct, fully incompatible styles. The first centered around directly confronting whoever she'd already decided was responsible and included frequent verbal blasts of "I know it was you who did it! Own up!": the success rate was largely dependent on how desperate the target was to escape her accusations added to the number of dark clouds in the immediate area, which was most of what defined 'target'. She felt the other was subtle and in this case, she was fully prepared to be subtle all over the candy shop.

She landed before entering: Bon-Bon had a way of arranging display cases which didn't leave a lot of room for flapping. Rainbow had frequently been tempted to call discrimination, and had mostly been stopped by remembering (not always in time) that Bon-Bon responded to cries of 'Discrimination!' through discriminating. Forcefully.

"Hey, Caramel," she cheerfully greeted as she made her way past the salt-water taffy. (Rainbow didn't understand salt-water taffy. Ponyville wasn't anywhere near an ocean and besides, she was almost completely sure most candy couldn't swim.) "Whatcha doin'?"

The earth pony, whose usual received forms of address from Rainbow ran along the lines of 'No', 'Not even after the Princesses switch shifts', or 'Lightning in three, one, I don't care that I skipped two!', rather uncertainly looked up from where he had been sitting, with his mouth just moving away from a full tray of cherry cordials.

"...restocking," he managed. "Why?"

Rainbow put a little flounce into her tail as she approached the counter, stepping around two browsing ponies in order to do so. A little more thought added a certain degree of sway to the hips, and she set her stance to best show off an ass which the sleek pegasus mostly possessed due to anatomical technicalities.

She was facing the wrong way for him to see that part. The rest made him gulp. The words dropped into his ears, fully avoided his brain, and heavily landed somewhere near the testicles.

"So you have a lot of sex, right?"

The browsers, who had been vaguely considering trading in their status for that of 'customer', immediately gave up on all such career plans and with ears rotated towards the source, turned into chroniclers of history.

Caramel blinked, which didn't help anything. The second option was to open his mouth, in the hope that some kind of words would fall out.

"...what?"

Bon-Bon, who'd been heading towards the kitchen doors in search of sugar, decided to stay exactly where she was.

"I mean, everypony knows it!" Rainbow pleasantly declared, adding a teasing head tilt and shift of her wings to the statement. "You have sex more than anypony I know! You're always dating, so that means you're always having sex!" A little more thought. "Until the breakups. Which you always have. But hey, there's always another mare, right? And you know how mares talk, and what they mostly talk about is why the next one shouldn't date you. But they always do! And they wouldn't do that if somepony had told them the sex was bad."

She tilted her head a little more.

"So that means you're good. And..." her volume dropped, and it didn't drop enough "...everypony knows your tastes, don't they? I mean, you're only parading around the streets every weekend with your taste next to you! Or above you. On the weekends when you're not in the hospital, because some of those breakups get nasty. You date pegasi. Just pegasi, just mares. All the time, over and over and -- well, anyway, the point is, you know what you like and you're having sex with it. Lots and lots of sex. More than just about anypony."

Her tail pleasantly swayed, kinked near the tip.

"And you're good at it."

The witnesses placed Bon-Bon's jaw drop into the official record.

Caramel was looking closely at Rainbow, for Rainbow held a truly special status in his life. She was The One Who Got Away or rather, The One Who'd Repeatedly Threatened To Electrocute Him If He Didn't.

She was sleek. Streamlined. There wasn't a tenth-bit of weight on her which didn't have a purpose. She fully committed to everything she felt was important. She tried things nopony had ever thought of, and that kind of personality was talking about him. And sex. Him in association with sex. Good sex.

He still hadn't stood up. (In many ways, he couldn't.) A well-placed nougat tray was now somewhat tilted.

"Really good."

The nougats began to slide. This was particularly impressive because nougats generally weren't capable of that.

There was a certain subtle scent beginning to permeate the candy shop, because hormones being generated at that level of intensity had their own olfactory signature and besides, something had to be subtle. It still made the chroniclers sit down heavily enough to make the contents of two shelves jump.

"I think..." Caramel's face briefly registered surprise at the presence of further words, followed by immediately flushing into somewhat-unearned confidence regarding his being just that good. "I think a gentlecolt --"

"-- stallion," Rainbow cut in. "You're a stallion." With a snort which Caramel completely misread, "'Gentlecolt' is a stupid word anyway, especially when we're talking about sex. And we can talk about sex, right, Caramel?" This head tilt went the other way, and perfectly-aerodynamic wings rustled. "Because you're so good at it."

"-- a stallion doesn't kiss and tell," Caramel stated, and found he was smiling. "Rainbow, this is a little -- public. I don't mind talking about this, especially not with you, but I'm at work --"

"-- talk about it," Bon-Bon hastily ordered as the sturdy body sought support from the nearest wall. "Keep talking about it. Oh, Cadance's pink -- pink --" and left it at that.

The stallion glanced at his employer.

"This is my bedtime story for Lyra," the shop owner said. "Talk."

The nougats were beginning to drop into the case.

Caramel took a breath. Thought about the ponies in the shop who were listening, and then considered exactly what they were listening to.

He already had a reputation. It was about to become capitalized, with optional italics.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Rainbow smiled. She had a surprisingly pretty smile, at least on the few occasions when it could be distinguished from the smirk.

"Well... I just found out that I'm a --" what had been Applejack's word? "-- euphemism." A brief frown. "Me-phemism? Me-feminism? You-me-friends-in-'em -- anyway, one of those!" (And completely missed the way his skin was beginning to pale beneath the fur, although her ears did twitch at the sound of the nougat tray crashing back to a level position.) "And because you have so much sex, good sex, with pegasi... I thought you must have done me! At least once. Maybe you've done me every time!" Which was when her ego finally registered the typical casting vote. "Or maybe you're still working on doing me, because I'm just that hard to pull off. Maybe you've only managed to do me in your dreams, and you just think about doing me every night. So I was just wondering..."

The last head tilt could have been called subtle, especially when added to the eyelash flutter. All sorts of terms could have been used to describe that combination, as long as you didn't mind lying.

"...what am I? Really hard to do? Does it have to be in the air? Because it's fine if it's in the air. That's where all the best stunts are." Thoughtfully, "Could you do me right now, or would you need some prep work first? Out of every ten times you have sex, how many times do I come in? Oh, and speaking of that: at least four, right? It's got to be a minimum of --"

The kitchen doors slammed open.

The kitchen doors started to close.

A certain sound came through the gap.

Rainbow stared at the place where a stallion had once been. Bon-Bon pressed more of her weight against the wall.

"You owe me a new window," the proprietor stated. "Bits on the counter tomorrow morning when I open."

"I --"

"-- and we have a back door," Bon-Bon groaned. "Where does he think we take deliveries? In the back. He takes it in the back all the time. You'd think if anypony would know about taking it in... the..." Which was when she finally noticed the chroniclers, who had plenty of footnote space for side players. "-- and both of you are banned for a week." With a snort, "Heteros. Oh, and Rainbow?"

"...what?" the dazed weather coordinator eventually managed. She didn't understand it. Everything should have gone perfectly. She'd been subtle...

"If you see Lyra, send her here. Now." The earth pony tried to force herself away from the wall. Failed, and collapsed back against her own spreading sweat stain. "Oh, and turn on the fans before you go. Maximum speed. Leave the door open. And put up my Closed sign. On the open door. Why are you still here?"

"-- oh, I am absolutely delighted!" Rarity smiled, allowing the radiance of that open warmth to fill the privacy of the fitting room. "It's not often that I get to turn my horn towards lingerie, you know. And for you, Goldie..."

The carrot farmer smiled as soft blue wrapped the measuring tape around her barrel. "We've been keeping it a secret," the mare whispered. "But it's been weeks now, and he's good for me, Rarity, so good. I wanted to give him something a little -- special. And you know the saying..."

With a wink, "'Concealment is enticement.' Yes. One of the reasons we still have the most dedicated of nudists insisting that clothing is nothing more than a means of provoking arousal. To think they very nearly managed to ban trenchcoats... lace?"

"Lace and metal," Goldie softly replied. "Because it's me."

Rarity nodded. She did work on lingerie every so often, was one of the only ponies in town who would, and so had become privy to any number of secrets about her clients' -- tastes. In Goldie's case, love was something more than a mere word, and also couldn't be used as the safeword because it wasn't something anypony could manage with the reins in their mouth.

"As expected," the designer smiled. "I simply needed to verify the base material. And he has no objections to your play?"

Golden Harvest's volume dropped a little more. "I got him into the saddle."

"Ah," Rarity replied. She wasn't quite sure how the saddle worked: she just knew that its emergence was considered to be a tricky part.

This is an opportunity. I was hardly expecting her today. And in the absence of Bayleaf... Oh, if she only had the cinema's projectionist in the Boutique: that was a mare who had a dual reputation for her delight in trying anything and the horror which followed in her wake when she cheerfully talked about it. Bayleaf was to sex what Twilight was to spells: a life of fully-dedicated research accompanied by a distressing tendency to occasionally just kick an idea into the hopper and see what the blast radius looked like.

When it came to sex, Bayleaf would talk about anything, and the only thing stopping Rarity from consulting her on the euphemisms -- and what was a 'Rarity', anyway? She was desperately hoping it was at least something classy -- was her inability to get into the projection booth during working hours. But Goldie, whose sex life ran through a well-worn harness groove in her current partner's fur, wasn't necessarily the worst substitute.

Try. What's the worst which could happen?

"Actually," Rarity gently pitched towards the orange mane, "I have a -- question, if you're willing." In the tones of perfect acceptance, "I know how much strength it took for you to come here the first time, Goldie. To speak of your adventures, and hope that I would not judge you."

The mare's eyes momentarily closed, opened again. She slowly nodded.

"And I did not."

"No," Goldie quietly said. "You didn't. And -- thank you."

"You are quite welcome."

The tape shifted. Soft blue took up a quill and jotted down some notes.

"But knowing your habits..." Rarity continued, "Along with recognizing how few others share them... when a perfectly natural question arises in one's mind, you are the only source of accurate information. So if I might ask something, knowing that I do so without judgment rendered towards the answer? Understanding that I do not necessarily intend to indulge personally, and simply wish to know?"

The carrot farmer's eyes sought the door, carefully roamed across the seal and evaluated the soundproofing.

"I trust you," Golden Harvest said. "Ask whatever you need to."

Rarity took a deep breath.

We know of three. Presume there are six. Laugh it off if it hasn't spread that far, then move to the ones we can be sure already exist.

With open, oddly-honest curiosity, "Would you say the saddle impairs your ability to conduct a Fluttershy, or assists it?"

Goldie's eyes widened. Narrowed. A powerful left forehoof slammed into the floor.

"That," the suddenly-very-angry mare stated, "isn't funny."

Rarity blinked and, purely as an incidental movement, backed up somewhat.

"I hardly meant to offend, Goldie!" What did I just ask her? "I simply wished to --"

"Do you know how many ponies have Fluttershied on me? I didn't want them to Fluttershy. I spend my life looking for somepony who won't Fluttershy. And you're asking about the saddle and -- and --"

She reared up, and both forehooves crashed down. Wood cracked.

"Fine," the carrot farmer snarled. "Here's your answer. I have never Fluttershied on anypony. A Fluttershy is something I usually don't feel I'm capable of. I want to think I'm not built for that. But the saddle, the saddle which I only bring out when I'm sure it's the right pony... oh, there have been Fluttershys aplenty with the saddle, Rarity. So assist. It assists. And I always feel worse when it's over. Sometimes I hate myself..."

The unicorn's tail was now pressed against the well-sealed door.

"Goldie, I -- I didn't mean..."

"Get out of the way," Goldie pushed through gritted teeth. "Wink out your field and move. I'll come back tomorrow, after I get a chance to trot around a little and breathe. Or I won't. Move, Rarity. Move before I tell myself it wasn't an innocent question and there's a real reason why I shouldn't stop at just leaving."

The designer almost fell to one side, and the farmer thrust her right shoulder into the exposed exit. Wood cracked again, and furious hooves marched away.

Rarity forced herself upright, just enough to turn a little. Look towards where a soft, hard-lashing orange tail was possibly going away forever.

"Goldie, I don't even know --"

The front doors slammed open. Then they slammed closed. And Rarity slumped back to the floor.

"-- what it means...!"

They were all back in the basement, which in terms of raw depth put them that much closer to being down in the dumps. Rainbow and Rarity had already reported in.

Pinkie sighed. "You know how some ponies will say just about anything to me? Because I'm --" her face worked for a moment "-- approachable. I'm not beautiful, I'm cute. I'm not intimidating, I'm cute. So they don't mind coming up to me, and they'll say just about anything, and maybe part of that is because they're not sure I'll understand it?"

Everypony nodded.

"I found the exception," the baker sighed again, and slowly settled in next to the beaker cabinet. "They'll talk about sex. Some ponies will always talk about sex with me, because I'm cute and approachable and they think that makes sex easy, except that sex can be really really complicated, especially in who you have it with and why. And where. And with what. What can be really complicated. I guess that pony with the saddle would know."

"I suppose," Rarity miserably agreed. (She'd been discreet enough to leave the farmer's name out.) "So when you tried to bring up the subject...?"

"The only thing more complicated than sex," Pinkie said, "is sex with us." Paused. "Um. Sex with your names in it. Nopony wanted to talk about that. And the only thing more complicated than that is a Pinkie. One mare ran away when I asked her about a Pinkie. Onto the train. Without buying a ticket. And you know they charge more in the car."

They all thought about that for a moment.

"So it's five-bits-bad," Applejack seriously declared.

"At least that," Pinkie sadly replied. "I'm not sure if there's an extra surcharge on weekends."

"Don't worry 'bout it." The blonde tail flicked with self-directed annoyance. "Ain't like Ah got anywhere. An' Ah thought Ah'd been lucky. Ah actually heard somepony talkin' 'bout havin' had a Rarity night -- calm down, Rares: your tail's practically knotting itself as-is. Ah didn't get any details, 'cause they know me. They know we're friends, and as soon as they saw me comin', they scrambled. An' what was Ah s'pposed t' do? Can't exactly send Apple Bloom t' ask for me."

"You have a brother," Rarity stated with annoyance. "One who happens to be an adult. He could have --"

Each period came with its own hoof stomp. "Y'want. Mah brother. T' ask what our names mean. For sex. Ah know it's gonna reach him eventually, maybe before it gets t' us. Maybe he already knows. Maybe every time he looks at me, he's smirkin' inside, thinkin' 'bout what an 'Applejack' is an' that Ah probably can't manage mah own name. But Ah ain't gonna ask him. Ever."

"A fair point," Rarity agreed after the ability to use words came back. "Fluttershy?"

Who just looked at them, with the one visible blue-green eye skirting the absolute edge of Stare.

"...um..." The prettiest among them marshaled herself. "...I sort of -- want to make sure I understand this. Everypony here -- expected me to go home... wait for clients to come by... and then talk to them about sex. About how all of our names tie into sex. What they do at home, and whether any of it was us. That's right, isn't it?"

A certain degree of collective realization began to descend on the basement.

The caretaker stood up, then took three careful hoofsteps forward, stopping in front of Rarity.

"...hello," she quietly said. "I'm... actually, it doesn't really matter who I am, because you're outside the cottage and I'm hiding under my couch. You're looking for a kitten and I want to match you with someone who'll love you, but all I can do is cower while your hoof raps on my door." Paused. "And 'eep!' I think I had one of those." She looked towards Twilight. "...but I can follow you back into town while talking to your little brother, because I can't talk to you yet. Now when I met Rainbow for the first time, it was at flight camp and is anypony starting to get it?"

"But..." Twilight failed to rally, "...animals. You live with -- Fluttershy, with all the different mating seasons, there's sex in the cottage all the time. You have to know more about sex than anypony..."

The yellow pegasus' gaze focused a little more.

"...do you know what porcupines do before they mate?"

"No," Twilight quickly said.

"...I do. I've seen it. I've cleaned up after it. Every year. Would you like to know?"

The librarian winced.

"It's stabbing, isn't it?" Rainbow asked, because some ponies were just slow learners. "They stab each other. Before. And during --"

"-- they can mate without getting hurt," Fluttershy softly, calmly told them. "But before they do, the male urinates. On the female. All over her. Head to tail. She gets soaked in it. And he does that from more than one of our body lengths away, so just think about how small he is and how fast it's coming out, along with how much and don't you go anywhere, Rarity. I don't care how green your skin is under your fur: you listen. He pees all over her before he has sex with her, and that's not even the weirdest thing animals do. I spend my life listening to the things they do. Hearing about how much they want to do it, because sex is a pretty big topic for every species. It's constant, it's been constant since I started to listen and it'll never stop. Most of what I hear about at home is sex. So guess how much I want to talk about it with ponies?"

Rainbow was the first one to risk a breath, and the inhale didn't draw a Stare.

"I never actually got your talent," the weather coordinator said. "During the switch. I never understood anything they were saying."

Fluttershy nodded.

"Thank Sun," Rainbow sincerely exhaled. "Twilight, it's down to you. Did you...?"

The little alicorn shook her head. "At least Fluttershy has the vocabulary," she wearily said. "Even if it's for all the wrong species. And I think ponies have been avoiding the tree. They know I heard something. Those three were talking, and now the herd is starting to learn. They're avoiding me because they know I need to find out, and soon they'll be avoiding us..."

The sitting posture collapsed. A narrow chin failed to find true support against slim forelegs.

"I hate this," Twilight whispered. "Hate it. Ponies are thinking of us that way, and maybe that's bad enough. But not knowing what it means... that's so much worse. And once the story spreads enough, they might never tell us or talk around us. Everypony in town will know but us and every time I hear somepony say my name, I'll have to wonder if they're thinking about me or... or that. Something I don't even have a definition for."

The shadows of the basement clustered over the little body, deeply shaded the horn until the blackened portions made it seem as if the remainder was drooping.

"I hate it," the librarian wearily stated. "I don't know if I can live like this..."

"Then we shall not!" And with that, Rarity was standing, with the others looking into furious blue eyes. "The only thing worse than knowing is the reverse. We will know what our names have been tied to before Sun is lowered: this I vow by the orb itself. We will make them tell us."

The group carefully looked her over for a few seconds. Most of that was focused on the eyes, with special scrutiny paid to any twitching which might be taking place at the corners. But the blue gaze held steady.

"How?" Applejack finally voiced, and waited for it.

The designer smiled. There was no humor in it.

"The herd is the problem," she declared. "The herd's decision to link us to their own behaviors. To hide those definitions from us. That was something which spread through the herd. So rather than confronting individual ponies..."

The Ponyville residents who had spotted the first blazing bursts of pinkish corona directed into the sky had spent several minutes in looking up. The blasts of magic had a way of getting attention, and what was happening above them kept it. Most ponies paused when they spotted Rainbow working, although seldom longer than it took to work out any potential downwards trajectory and whether they were personally occupying the impact site. But with this...

The bursts kept coming. Rainbow continued her efforts. And all over Ponyville, citizens were worriedly nudging each other. Knocking on doors. Drawing their neighbors' attention to what was happening in the sky.

After a while, Rainbow dropped down enough to hover near the group outside the tree.

"Anything else?" the perspiring pegasus asked. "Because I'm getting kind of low on clouds here. And when I've spread out the molding this much, I don't know how long it's gonna hold."

They checked the skywriting.

The Bearers request that every adult pony (no minors or Bearer family members!) who can make it to gather in the market square by one hour before Sun-lowering today.

"Seems pretty clear t' me," Applejack decided. "Want t' head over there an' start setting up?"

Twilight nodded. "Let's go."

Rarity raised her left foreleg. "Wait." A glance at the hovering mare. "Rainbow, can you manage two more words?"

"If they're short ones," Rainbow panted. "And you get me some wake-up juice on the way."

"They are, and done."

The pegasus came down a little more. Rarity whispered up. And within minutes:

Or else.

"I don't get it," Twilight declared, frowning at the addition. "Or else what?"

There was still no humor in the answering smile. "Ah," Rarity softly said. "That is the beauty of it, Twilight. Let them imagine. For whatever they perceive in the white will be worse than anything we could ever say."

The message got ponies moving. The addendum had them moving in bulk.

Some arrived early, not so much walking and flying into the market as pushed by the steady pressure of invisible, horrible possibilities. What they found was six mares who were refusing to speak until the appointed hour, and a lot of hoof-hammering. Being a Bearer meant picking up a number of necessary skills, and Twilight was now regretfully familiar with the exact number of soapboxes required to build a six-pony stage.

(There was a hitching post at one end. Applejack had insisted on putting it there. Nopony knew why.)

Ponies slunk into the market square, many with expressions which hoped attendance would be registered without identity. They arrived in confusion, worry, concern, and more than a little fear. But a little at a time, the herd gathered itself and when the appointed hour approached, the Bearers trotted up the makeshift ramp and gazed out across what, for all age-of-consent purposes, was just about Ponyville assembled. Surveying the crowd.

They kept doing it.

"Got another one over there," Applejack muttered.

Twilight nodded, and a teenager's glowing, yelping form was sent towards the central fountain. "Any sign of Spike?"

"Not so far. Good thing it's tournament day: all we needed was one overtime. But Ah'll keep lookin'."

"Please," Twilight sighed. "Maybe he'll know eventually, but I want to keep him out of this part -- oh, for... that's Cotton hiding over there. Against a black wall. Did she really think we weren't going to... never mind." Another corona bubble streaked towards the horizon. "Fluttershy, how are we doing on time?"

"...another minute before we start," the caretaker replied. "I think we've gotten just about everypony we're going to. Some of them can't come, not with their jobs and families. And others just... won't."

Darkly, "I know. I still haven't seen the first three. But there's enough." Two more bolts. "You make one rule... any sign of Bayleaf?"

"Not with today's cinema schedule," Rainbow groaned. "She couldn't even get out of the booth long enough to see the sky, and nopony goes in there when she's working. The one time somepony needs her..."

"A pity," Rarity considered. "It would have helped. Pinkie, do you see any presence from our local law enforcement?"

"Yeah. There's a few," the baker reported. "They're just watching, though. Even with 'or else.' I think they'll stay there unless we actually do something more than sort the crowd."

"And Guards?"

Another check. "No."

The designer exhaled. "Good. I was hoping Rainbow had broken that up before Canterlot spotted it. And with that, Twilight -- it is time. Are you ready?"

She'd been mentally practicing the speech for over an hour, which hadn't been easy with all of Applejack's hoof-hammering. "Yes."

The little alicorn stepped forward, and a town held its breath.

"Hello, Ponyville," their something-more-than-a-librarian said, "We would normally apologize for disrupting everypony's lives with this --" the narrow rib cage expanded "-- but nothing about today has been normal."

The populace waited.

"It has recently come to our attention," Twilight continued, "that our names have, through means which I'm sure nopony is going to explain, become associated with --" another breath "-- sexual acts."

An entire town had its collective spine develop a dip at the center.

"I don't know how that happened," Twilight told them. "I'm not sure how much I care. It's gossip. One pony says something, the next repeats it... the exact path isn't all that important." The next part hurt -- and still had to be said. "And I know I can't make you stop, because that's censorship. I'm not telling anypony what they can and can't say, any more than somepony can tell me which books stay in the library and which ones should be removed because they tell you how to make clothing and somehow, that's erotica. Just know we're not happy about it. You might keep talking that way, but if you do it where we can hear you, we're going to react -- poorly. And it's all made worse by one fact: we don't know what any of it means. We don't know what you've connected us to. So that means we're going to imagine, and as I think a lot of you just found out, when all you can do is imagine -- you come up with the worst."

The herd shuffled their hooves. It was something like a dance, and rather more like a group mind realizing that only its outermost cells had a clear break for the exits.

"We can't stop you," Twilight semi-repeated. "But we can ask you what the definitions are. Because maybe those are bad -- but they won't be as bad as what we've already thought of. They can't. So talk to us, Ponyville. Tell us what you've all decided we're shorthoof slang for. Now."

(Applejack quietly slid her hooves across the wood, shifting to the left.)

The herd hemmed. Hawed. Sent a mutter through itself. Awkwardly cleared its throat, and finally spoke through a single pony.

"We really don't want to tell you," Magnet Bolt desperately tried.

"An' why not?" Applejack shot back.

"Because..." The unicorn swallowed. "...she levitates water towers, she sets off Rainbooms, you practically kick through trees, she can send carnivores rampaging through town, she says five words in the right place and any relationship is over, and she has a party cannon."

There was a moment when the Bearers were all looking at each other, and not without shock.

"We think those are very good reasons not to tell you," Magnet stated.

Rarity stepped forward.

"Well-argued," the designer agreed. "However, if you all might take a moment and consider the opposing angle -- it could be debated that all of the preceding also serve as very good reasons to tell us..."

Ponies were a herd species, and thus were prone to an occasionally-distressing amount of groupthink. In this case, the collective silence which settled over the crowd represented several thousand minds regarding the probable contents of a perfectly-sewn set of saddlebags while carefully going over what rapidly-revising actuarial tables might not allow to become an old saying.

Twilight, Fluttershy, and Pinkie probably wouldn't.
Rainbow and Applejack are at least thinking about it.
Rarity is one enchanted sewing device accident away from becoming a supervillain.

The herd took a deep breath and held it, just in case it turned out to be the last. Chose a new voice, and Time Turner raised his head.

"They're not all sexual acts," the mildly-accented voice tried. "Some of them are... simply things associated with sex. And it wasn't meant as cruelty. Merely an act of irreverence, as it were." Hopefully, "When you truly consider it, I would hope you find it a positive sign, that we can think of you all so lightly..."

"Don't count on it," Applejack growled. "So let's start with me. What's mah name mean here?"

Time Turner's gaze abruptly focused on the cobblestones. Noteworthy took over.

"Actually," the musician said, voice strong and proud in the midst of what he was seeing as his very last performance, "that is one of the sexual connections."

"Really," Applejack said. "An'?"

He heard the anger. But he had committed to his swan song, and so didn't miss a beat.

"Applejacking," Noteworthy proudly declared, "is to just pound away."

Several ponies among the herd dropped to street level and waited for the end. Sun dipped a little. Rainbow completely failed to suppress the snicker, and Applejack's right forehoof nearly went through a soapbox.

"Really."

"For hours," the musician added. "Without stopping. It takes a pony of major stamina to pull off an Applejack. In fact, it's probably more of a theory than anything."

"For. Hours," Applejack repeated, with the tip of her tail starting to fray.

"Because you're the strongest," the doomed pony went on. "And you kick trees. For hours on end. So that's the association. And of course," because he was already so very doomed, "it's mindless pounding. Because kicking trees for hours on end isn't exactly a thinking activity. So that's Applejacking. Mindlessly pounding away for hours until --"

"Twilight?" said the last remnants of Applejack's fading civilized veneer. "It's gonna be you or me. An' if we want those cops t' stay where they are, it had better be you."

Twilight's horn flared.

The herd pulled back, blinked dazzle away, and left Noteworthy where he was: namely, fully enclosed in a soundproofed corona bubble, and still talking.

"Thank y'kindly," Applejack managed. "That'll do."

Hoof gestures were now becoming involved.

"Ah don't s'ppose y'can make that thing a little more opaque?"

"No."

"Tartarus chain it..."

"Okay!" Rainbow's verbal burst echoed. "We've had the comedy! And that's a good one, everypony!" She snickered again. "'Mindlessly pounding'... I'm gonna put that on her next birthday card." (Applejack shifted left again.) "So let's get down to the important bit. Me." Eagerly, "I'm the best one, right? I was originally figuring three or four at the minimum, but if Applejack's that far down, it's got to be at least five. A Rainbow is something where you climax at least five times. Is that it? Or is it the best sex stunt ever..."

(Applejack shifted one more time. Crouched.)

This snicker was distinctive. It also wasn't Rainbow's. It was a snicker which often signified somepony else's fast-approaching misery, and it made the hair bow vibrate with glee.

Flitter smugly smiled, and declared "It's finishing in ten seconds."

Rainbow's wings locked.

"Hold on!" Thunderlane shouted. "That's not it at all!"

"Well, that's how I heard it!" Flitter challenged. "What's yours?"

"A Rainbow," the coordinator's fellow weather team member angrily countered, "is getting so wrapped up in your own pleasure that you forget your partner is even there!"

"I'm gonna -- !"

A precisely-aimed lasso loop tightened around the hitching post, and did so a split-second before the powerful jaw clamped down on Rainbow's tail.

The result was visually interesting. Applejack had thought to anchor the lasso's other end around the strongest thing available: herself. And under normal circumstances, it would have left Rainbow grounded -- but as Twilight had already noted, nothing about the day was normal and so Rainbow was in the air, the entire sleek body straining against the grip as Applejack helplessly vibrated in midair between lasso and tail, the bob weight in the middle of the string.

"-- pound you! With lightning! There's still clouds and nopony would convict me, nopony in the world --"

It didn't really make an impression on the now-arguing herd.

"I thought it was taking a nap during sex," Cherry considered. "...isn't it?"

"I heard," a still-sweaty Lyra softly tried, "that it was trying the same pickup line a dozen times on the same pony and failing. You all heard something else?"

Rainbow strained, screamed, and threatened multiple felonies. Applejack began to develop a neck cramp. And the herd simply gathered closer, discussed matters with itself, quickly tallied the ensuing vote, and then refocused on the stage.

"Upon consultation," Mayor Marigold Mare somberly announced, "the majority opinion is that a Rainbow means any attempted sexual activity which leads to the pony crashing out of bed. And possibly also their partner, as the definition does allow for dual crashes. On up. Hopefully that settles things. So who would be next?"

With one last ear-blistering curse, Rainbow's exhausted froth-coated body crashed to the stage, where Applejack promptly sat on her.

Those Bearers who were still fully conscious looked at each other again, although Applejack's came with a wince as her neck protested the turns. Fluttershy silently stepped forward.

"Excusing yourself for a minute before you start because you need to use the restroom," Pinot Noir immediately announced, "and escaping through the window because you chickened out on having sex."

Several thousand ponies nodded.

(Rarity frantically sought out Golden Harvest's location in the herd, then began mouthing I'm sorry over and over.)

Fluttershy looked thoughtful.

"...that's fair," she decided, and placidly stepped back again.

"Then it's me next," Pinkie announced. "Is there one definition?"

A second, faster round of group consultation took place and left the herd looking all the more awkward for it. Noteworthy, still in the bubble, had added interpretative dance.

"Sort of," Parasol tried. "I mean, I think we all have the general idea. But we're sort of confused on the specifics."

"Okay," Pinkie gently offered. "So just tell me. And if you think you're missing something, just ask somepony for help."

"Well," Parasol awkwardly began, "We think it starts with the haystack --"

She kept talking for a while. Redheart took over once the tubing got involved, and then there was a switch off to Davenport because nopony was better qualified to talk about all the implications of quills. It spread out from there.

Twilight sat down hard. Fluttershy sunk to the stage floor and desperately pressed her forehooves against flattered ears. Applejack's hat twitched in perfect concert with Rarity's eyes. Rainbow began to snore. And Pinkie's right foreleg briefly covered her eyes in pure despair.

"No! Nonono!" she shouted. "You're not doing it properly! If you don't put the sailor's knot around the tuba, then you don't have everything properly braced! You can't ever bring in the water bottles unless you have an equal number of corks! And I don't know where anypony's getting the ostrich from! There was never an ostrich! It's a flamingo! Does everypony understand that? Because the way you're all doing it, somepony's going to get hurt! I'd never do it that way, because it's not being done properly!"

The herd looked both abashed and vaguely impressed, with the exception of the portions which had fainted and Goldie, who was still trying to catch up in her notes.

"If anypony's confused," Pinkie carefully said, "just come up to me during my lunch break. I'll show you the diagrams. Also, you get ten percent off the zip line order if you mention my name."

"What about the carabiners?" Mayor Mare asked.

"That's a separate seller. Full price -- yes, I know it's silly. They're brothers. You'd think they'd save on postage by just combining their catalogs already," Pinkie sighed. "And this is why we should all talk about sex more than we do, everypony. Because if we don't, stuff like this happens. Almost happens -- wait. Nopony's been checked into the hospital with stripes up and down their back and a fracture at L2?"

"Nopony," Redheart confirmed.

Pinkie was openly relieved. "Then nopony tried it. And shouldn't until we all talk a little more." The baker exhaled. "So remember: ask me first. And if I'm busy, ask Bayleaf, because we sort of worked it out together. While she was still single. But ask carefully, because she's always looking for something new and I think she was starting to consider adding gramophones."

She stepped back.

"That was close," she whispered to what was left of Twilight's sanity. "Some ponies really had the wrong impression!"

"Pinkie," just barely emerged.

"But don't worry! The corncobs are what make it fun!"

Rarity shuddered.

"I suppose we should all be grateful that Spike wasn't included in this mess?" she sarcastically asked the herd. "That you have at least spared him your attentions?"

Several thousand ponies were instantly offended.

"He's a minor!" Blue shouted.

"He's too young for any of it!" yelled Crescent.

"What kind of ponies do you think we are?" bellowed a furious Minty.

Rarity's hooves slipped, driven backwards by the sheer force of the herd's rage -- and then her head bowed.

"You are right," she apologized. "My opinion of you was far too low. And for that, I am sorry."

"You should be," Minuette angrily declared.

"I am."

With a mighty lash of the striped tail, "Because everypony knows that being a Spike means you're somepony who's chasing down the impossible and in the best case, has to wait at least ten years before you get any!"

The designer blinked. Mentally counted the number of sewing needles she was carrying in her saddlebags, compared them to the attendance, and came up with a regrettable shortfall.

"Ah," she said for lack of manageable (fully imaginary, and yet strangely satisfying) mass murder, especially in the presence of an alicorn who could shut her down at the outset. "And myself?"

"Being so fussy about picking a partner that you go home alone every night," the dental potion seller added. "How could you not know that?"

"Wasn't it supposed to be fussiness about positions?" Roseluck asked. "I could have sworn --"

"No, it's the sheets!" Daisy decided. "You won't do anything on a thread count of less than five thousand, because you're just that --"

"-- yes, I am particular in my desires!" Rarity abruptly shouted. "Thank you all so very much for having called it to my attention at long last!"

One accident away... thought the herd, and rather quickly shut up.

Twilight looked up. Sun was getting lower, and appeared to have absolutely no chance of mercifully crushing the stage.

"One left," she quietly told them. "And then it's over. So somepony just..." Eyes and ears dipped. "...get it over with."

This time, the collective thought sounded a variation on a slightly older note.

Twilight probably wouldn't...

Time Turner cleared his throat.

"It's just... irreverence," the older stallion quietly said. "We bring you down to our level, because it's a reminder that you don't want to be above us. You never did. They're jokes, Ms. Sparkle. We wouldn't jest like this if we were afraid. But I think we've been reminded of something today. That jokes can hurt. And we feel you've been hurt enough already."

"It hurts more," Twilight softly countered, "to not know. Is there a single definition?"

He looked around. Ponies nodded.

"Yes."

"Then... please?"

The earth pony slowly nodded, and trotted out of the herd. Up the ramp, step by steady step, passing Bearer after Bearer as he moved across the stage. And at the last, he bent his head and whispered it directly into her ears, so that nopony else would hear.

She let him depart in peace, and cast her gaze over the herd one last time.

"Go home," she told them. "Just... go home."

They didn't move.

"You have jokes," she said. "We understand that. We make jokes ourselves about who we are and what we do, because sometimes we get scared or angry, and jokes are part of how we deal with it. So I think we understand jokes. But don't make them too mean. And if you ever try something like this again --"

Purple eyes narrowed, and flashed to white.

"-- when it comes to retaliatory jokes: we have a Pinkie Pie. GO HOME."

The herd stared. Broke. And when the stampede ended, the market square was empty again. Even the fainted had been pulled away to safety.

"That was really nice of you, Twilight," Pinkie gently told her. "To not get too mad. And I'm flattered that you think that much of me. Really I am. Really-really."

Her voice said "Thank you, Pinkie." Her mind went with I can never look at quills the same way again. "But start working on an 'irreverent jest' or two. Just in case. And start with the mayor."

"Okay!" And with considerably more worry, "Twilight --"

"-- five seconds in," the librarian cut her off, "you stop and ask your partner if they have anything you could read instead. Can we all just go back to the tree? I'll carry Rainbow." She sighed. "I just want to enjoy the last minutes we have before Spike sees Sun go all the way down and comes home to make dinner. And he'll probably hear at least two of these things on the way back. Or more."

The group clustered around her, supported her with their presence. (With the exception of a still-snoring Rainbow, who was now being levitated well overhead.)

"Irreverent," Twilight sighed as they all began to leave the stage. "That's what having our names mean something else is. Irreverent."

"There are worse things," Rarity forced a smile.

Which drew a stark "Name two."

Immediately, "Reverence. To the point of worship."

The little alicorn paused.

"Ouch," she said, and meant it.

"...mine really was fair," Fluttershy decided. "Is there any arugula in the tree's kitchen? I think we could all use arugula."

"I can cook if Spike isn't back in time," Pinkie offered.

"I'll help," Applejack added. "He can send a letter tellin' mah family Ah'll be late. Not in much of a hurry t' get home anyway." Darkly, "Mindless poundin'..."

Rainbow made a snirking sound, then partially rolled over. Dreaming hooves slammed into phantom clouds, and a thousand memories of ponies died screaming.

"I know, Applejack," Twilight sighed. "Just take a few days before you even look at Noteworthy. It may take at least that long before he stops feeling sick, after they all rolled his bubble away. With him in it." She stepped back down to street level. "Do you think anypony else has to put up with this?"

And nopony could say anything. They simply stayed with her, all the way to tree and meal, until they all fell asleep together with the question unanswered.

A full gallop away, staggering hooves just barely found purchase in a palace corridor which had been surfaced in silver-shot marble.

The stallion tried another step, and almost veered into the waiting line. Fifteen sympathetic ponies watched the rookie weave, saw the froth falling from his fur, and the eldest moved to prop him up.

"It's all right," she said. "You did well for your first try. We were timing you. Most ponies don't make three minutes."

"NEXT!" an authoritative-yet-merry voice called out, and the line dutifully shuffled forward, with the lead pony entering the dark bedroom.

"I..." The rookie barely managed to raise his head. "...I feel like I can barely breathe... like I might never do anything else again..."

"There's water," the experienced mare told him. "And orange slices. It'll get better."

"But I... she just..."

The veteran smiled.

"It's all right," she reassured him. "It happens to everypony after they've been Lunaed."