Sunset twirled her fork clockwise, then counter-clockwise, paying no real attention to the lone noodle she’d drawn from the tangle. Her mind remained in her study, deep within the pages of Kanthaka’s Facts and Artifacts. She’d checked it out from the Canterlot Archives, alongside twenty-seven other books of varying scopes, not long after escaping Cadance’s tower. Anything even tangentially relevant had made the list, ranging from The Confounding Copiosity of Cordiform Crystalline Curios right through to Gems: A History. She’d only had two hours to peruse them before dinner, but she would have all the time she needed afterward. A scent-free taper candle already waited back home—her only companion for the long night ahead.
Early signs weren’t promising, but she’d hardly scratched the surface. Given a few more hours, Sunset was confident that she would be able to write a whole thesis on the Everheart. After all, if Equestria’s own Research Rodeo Queen—four years running—couldn’t pinpoint such a potent artifact given so many resources, it must not exist. But she had already ruled out that possibility, having seen it herself, so it was only a matter of time.
At present she was mulling over a peculiar footnote in the “Pins & Brooches” section of Kanthaka’s. It stated that magical objects of such designs were often reconfigured into necklaces or amulets after a few centuries, if deemed important enough. That tidbit made her want to double-check Magical Compendium: Volume XVII for potential—
“What has you so distracted, my student?”
Sunset snapped back to the moment. She glanced across the dining table to Equestria’s reigning monarch and shrugged, her focus falling to the pesto-drowned pasta. “Nothing. It’s just been a long day.”
“Indeed it has,” Princess Celestia said, her fork clinking against the porcelain. “You must have had quite an early start this morning, considering your most recent assignment.”
“Uh huh.”
Most ponies would have taken the ensuing pause as just that, but Sunset knew better. Princess Celestia was always saying something, even with her silences. Especially with her silences. Not that Sunset could decipher the meaning most of the time, but being aware of the message at all was an acquired skill.
“Speaking of which,” Princess Celestia continued, “how did you find your first meeting with Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?”
Torture, thanks for asking. “It was fine,” Sunset said. The pasta no longer appealed to her, so she switched to the side salad.
“Only ‘fine?’”
“Mm-hmm.” She skewered a cherry tomato and popped it in her mouth.
“Did anything noteworthy take place? Anything you would like to share?”
She swallowed the tomato whole, partly hoping that it would lodge in her throat so she’d have an excuse to end this conversation. “Not really.”
More silence, which suited Sunset just fine. Seizing the opportunity, she gathered up random clusters of spinach and began shovelling them in, barely tasting anything beyond the vinaigrette. She hoped it would prolong the pause long enough to force a shift in topic.
Nothing so simple ever worked on Princess Celestia.
“Strange,” the princess said, underscored by the ambient hum of her magic. “Mi Amore Cadenza had quite a bit more to say on the matter.”
The next bite froze at her teeth. Sunset looked up into Princess Celestia’s smoky smile right as it vanished behind a goblet of water.
All right, let’s get this over with. Sunset lowered her fork and said, “Like what?”
Finishing her sip, Princess Celestia grinned. “For one thing, I believe your eagerness for learning is already rubbing off on her. I invited her to join us here this evening”—she nodded to the third place setting that Sunset had deigned not to mention—“but she declined. She wanted to spend more time practicing the mental exercises you taught her.”
“Good,” Sunset said, her gaze scurrying away. “She needs it.”
Another break, but brief—a silent exclamation point. “From what I could gather, she also seems to have taken quite a liking to you personally.”
Sunset met the princess’s eyes, furrowing her brow like she'd been tasked with solving one of Erudite Enigma's infamous riddles. “…Really?”
Princess Celestia nodded. “I believe her exact words were ‘passionate and inspiring, if a bit brusque.’”
Oh, that little— Sunset pursed her lips. “That’s nice,” she said, then pushed her dinner away—flecks of green sauce splattered onto the tablecloth. “Princess, I’m not very hungry, and I have a lot of studying to catch up on. Can I go?”
“You may,” Princess Celestia said, levitating the dishes away. “I only ask that you answer one small question first.”
“What?”
Not a wrinkle of mirth on her face, the princess said, “I would like to know why you refused Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s invitation to join her book club.”
Sunset blinked. She waited for a moment to see if the princess intended to ask a genuine question. When she didn’t, Sunset said, “Forgive me, Princess, but that hardly seems like something worth discussing.”
“And yet, here we are discussing it.” Princess Celestia’s eyebrows sulked. “It’s an activity that seems right up your alley, so I’m confused as to why you wouldn’t want to partake.”
Maybe because being forced to see her three times a week already makes me wish for stonesleep. “My schedule’s full enough as it is. I don’t have time for any clubs.”
“If that’s your only concern, I’m certain we can rearrange your lessons to accommodate.” In a flash of gold, a quill and spiral planner winked into being. Princess Celestia opened the notebook to a red-tabbed page, and her eyes flitted across it like she were reading a grocery list. “Perhaps we could eliminate one of your seven study hall sessions.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Fine. I just don’t want to.” She stood, and her chair reeled backward with a wooden squeal. “Happy?”
Had Sunset not been so familiar with Princess Celestia’s many frowns, she would have needed a microscope to see the corners of her mouth dip. “May I ask why?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It’s important to expand your horizons beyond the classroom, Sunset, and you lack any other extracurricular activities. A book club would be a good choice, especially considering your common ground with Mi Amore Cadenza.”
“‘Common ground?’” She spoke the words like they might be laced with arsenic.
“She tells me that you share some literary interests,” Princess Celestia said. She placed the planner right in front of Sunset. “You’ll be spending a lot of time with her. You may find it helpful to get to know her outside of tutoring sessions.”
Sunset’s gaze dropped to the schedule and bounced off. “I don’t see the benefit.”
“Perhaps not yet, but the most valuable teachings can often be found in the most unassuming places.” The quill hovered over, and the aura holding it bled from gold to teal. “I believe the two of you could learn a great deal from one another.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes at the page before her. Small, colour-coordinated blocks filled the six rightmost day columns in a rainbow mosaic of academic perfection—the far left column an unbroken black streak that tied it all together. She took a few moments to admire the sheer beauty.
Once she felt like she’d feigned consideration long enough, she set the quill down and said, “I’d rather use the time to study. Like I should be doing right now.”
Princess Celestia initiated an impromptu staring contest, which Sunset immediately forfeited. The planner and quill poofed out of existence. “Sleep on it. You might have a different perspective come morning.”
“Fine.” Sunset flicked her tail. “I answered your question. Can I go now?”
“Of course.” Princess Celestia offered the sort of smile that reminded Sunset of her mother, which admittedly made her heart hurt. “Enjoy your evening, Sunset Shimmer.”
“Thank you, Princess.” She bowed hastily. “You too.”
With that, she trotted from the dining hall and quickened to a canter as she gained distance through the corridors. Already she felt the conversation slipping to the back of her mind and being replaced by the many articles and indices waiting in her suite—seeds of knowledge ripe for harvesting.
Sunset smirked, her blood turning electric. By tomorrow morning, she would be one step closer to the end of her quest—the start of her legend. The answers she needed were just a few tomes away.
Next dawn’s light stabbed Sunset in the eyes, angering the swollen beast in her skull. She grumbled and rolled to the other side of her pillow, which was actually an open copy of Mistmane’s Reliquary. Her mane sagged around her face, slick from the heat of the midnight oil. She glared into the dusty shadows of her study.
The floor had become a wasteland. Tumbleweeds of balled-up notes littered the arid stretches between towering book-hoodoos. Traitors, Sunset thought as she scanned the crooked silhouettes.
Apparently the Everheart didn’t exist. Not on paper at any rate, which meant that it might as well have been adrift in Limbo for all she could learn about it.
She’d come up with two theories: either Cadance had lied about the name, or she had been lied to about the name and had never bothered looking into it herself. The latter seemed more probable for a dunce like her. Besides, she didn’t strike Sunset as a good liar.
Still, even that hadn’t seemed like much of an obstacle six hours ago. After sniffing out the name as a red herring, Sunset had assumed that the relic simply went by another name, so she had reoriented her search around its ability to amplify emotions instead, hoping Cadance had at least been right about that. But even if she had, that trail had so many branches and dead ends that a solo expedition across Labyrinthia sounded easy by comparison. Emotional resonance happened to be the single most common trait among heart-shaped magic objects, doubly so if it was a gem or crystal. Go figure.
Forget the books then, her inner pragmatist said. You have a primary source.
Sunset scowled. The truth occasionally made that happen.
Cadance, by her own admission, knew horseapples about the amulet. Yet somehow she had still been able to trigger its magic, and while she didn’t understand how it worked, Sunset undoubtedly would. All she needed were details—details both Cadance and Princess Celestia had left curiously vague, only alluding to “an inspiring feat” at the coronation. Just as well. For Sunset, hearing that story would be like pouring water on a grease fire.
Of course, that had been before the Everheart. If that amulet turned out to be the key she needed, enduring Cadance’s tale of ascension might be a necessary evil. Unless she could get her hooves on the Everheart directly, in which case—
Sunset’s ears twitched, barely catching the gentle crackle behind her.
Then the window exploded.
Earlier than usual, Sunset thought. Otherwise she did not react to the waves of heat crashing around her, the white embers slicing past, or the screech shrill enough to curdle blood—all the wrath of a supernova packed into two heartbeats. It soon dwindled to little more than torchlight, leaving the room no worse for wear.
“Nice try,” Sunset said. She peeled her cheek from the book and sat up, grinning at the divine bird on her windowsill. “I almost flinched that time.”
Philomena warbled dramatically. She closed the distance with a single flap and perched on the edge of the desk. Her head dipped to Sunset’s level with the uncanny motion of a drinking bird, and she leaned in for a nuzzle.
Sunset returned it, heedless of the beak strong enough to snap obsidian. She nickered and said, “Thanks. It’s been a…” A yawn crept out between her words. “…long night.”
Rising to her full height, Philomena glanced about the study. Her forge-coal eyes narrowed at a nearby stack of books. Following her gaze, Sunset read the topmost title: Lichdom Through the Ages: Art of the Phylactery.
She grimaced. “Independent research study,” she stammered, and it technically wasn’t a lie. That particular theory had been a long shot, but she needed to consider every possibility. “There wasn’t anything useful in that one anyway.”
Philomena cocked her head.
In an attempt to climb free of the hole she was digging, Sunset said, “What are you even doing here? Breakfast isn’t for another hour.”
Ignoring the fact that it was physically impossible, Philomena smirked. She soared across the study on golden winds, coming to a hover by the door. Her talons turned the knob and revealed the gloomy living space beyond. Before Sunset could even begin to respond, Philomena pumped her wings and shot out the window, melting into the sunrise.
“Uh, bye?” Sunset said, then shrugged. She’d learned long ago not to question Philomena’s antics. Ever since their bombastic first meeting which had earned Sunset her cutie mark, she’d understood that the phoenix harbored wisdom beyond her comprehension. And oddly enough, she was okay with that.
Deciding that she had moped too long already, Sunset blew out the wax flower that had once been a candle and rose onto wooden limbs, stretching like a nap-fresh cat. Trotting out of the study, she lit her horn and gathered the discarded notes into one corner, simultaneously pushing all the books into another. She meandered across the loft to her kitchenette where a dark Smoky Mountain brew sang its siren song.
She only got halfway before the knocks came: three timid thuds she definitely wouldn’t have heard had she still been holed up in her study.
Sunset frowned. She corrected her course for the railing overlooking her little foyer. “Who is it?” she called, making zero effort to sand the edge in her voice.
“It’s Cadance!” Of course it is. “Sorry for coming by so early. I just know you probably have a busy day, so I wanted to catch you before you got going.”
Sunset’s eyes sharpened—daggers hot from the grindstone. She marched for the double doors, considering what sin she must have committed in a previous life to deserve this. Murder, probably.
She yanked the handles with her magic. The doors hadn’t even finished opening when she said, “How did you find out where I live?”
If Cadance was put off by the harsh welcome, her smile hid it well. “A little birdie told me,” she said.
Rustling leaves pulled Sunset’s attention upward. From the tree just opposite, Philomena winked and took off like a red-hoofed colt.
“Hey!” Sunset cried, trying and failing to catch her tail feathers in an arcane vice. A feral groan ripped from her throat.
Cadance frowned. “Have you been up all night?”
“So what if I have?! I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“No, you certainly don’t,” Cadance said, her voice frustratingly even—a flaccid attempt at mimicking Princess Celestia’s tone, no doubt. “I was, um, hoping to have a little chat, if you have time. May I come in?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. In fact…” Knowing and not caring that she was crossing a line, Sunset grappled Cadance in her magic and shoved her like one might shove broken furniture from their home. Cadance gasped and skidded a few hooves backward, stumbling when Sunset released her. “That’s about close enough. Now what do you want?”
For a razor-thin moment, Cadance’s eyes hardened into what could generously be called a glare. It looked wrong among her soft features, like a butter knife in a bouquet. She hid it behind her eyelids, exhaled audibly, and her eyes came back as shiny amethyst bubbles.
“Okay,” she said, putting on a new smile, “clearly this isn’t the best time for you, so I’ll be quick. I was hoping, if you’re free, that you might join me for a picnic later this evening. Maybe around six o’clock, if that works for you.”
Sunset gave the incredulous face of a pony who’d been asked to spend the night in Tartarus. “You’re inviting me to a picnic? With you?”
“I am!” Cadance said, and her smile widened until her dimples were showing. “There’s a lovely spot in the east castle courtyard I had in mind, unless you’d prefer someplace else. You know the grounds better than I do, after all. Oh, and do you have any allergies I should know about?”
A thousand biting retorts swarmed in Sunset’s mind, but she ignored them all in favour of, “Why?”
“I want to know what kinds of food I can and can’t bring.” Cadance giggled and took a step closer. “This one time, I went for lunch with my neighbor’s daughter, Honeysuckle, and I made honeysuckle sandwiches because I thought, ‘Oh, that’ll be cute,’ but ironically enough—”
“Not that,” Sunset said. “I really don’t care. Why are you inviting me in the first place?” What makes you think I’d say yes?
Some of the brightness drained from Cadance’s face. “Well, I feel like we got off on the wrong hoof yesterday, and I was hoping we could start fresh. I thought a picnic might be a fun way to do that. I’ll understand if you’re not up for it though, especially if you haven’t slept much.”
Sunset’s upper lip curled. Venom boiled on her tongue, but her rational brain put a lid on it before it could erupt. Primary source, remember? Could be a good chance to get some information out of her. And it might get Princess Celestia off your back about the book club nonsense. Two parasprites, one trombone.
Sunset groaned. “I don’t know,” she said, mostly to herself.
“I get it,” Cadance said. “I’m probably being too forward, and you’re clearly not comfortable with it. Maybe some other time.” She offered a curt nod and turned away, starting down the path. “Good luck with your summoning exam! See you in a couple days.”
Window’s closing, Shimmer. What, you hoping to find something when cross-referencing The Unabridged History of Amulets for the twentieth time?
Biting her lip, Sunset pinched her eyes shut and sighed. “Six, you said?”
Cadance’s hooffalls stopped. “Pardon?”
“I can do six,” Sunset said, hating herself more by the second. “For the picnic.”
The air had gone still and silent, as if the world was holding its breath. “You mean you’ll come?” Cadance said.
“Only because I don’t have anything better to do tonight.” Sunset opened her eyes and met Cadance’s owlish stare. “But we’re doing the west castle courtyard. It’s quieter.”
“Of… Of course!” Cadance’s wings fluttered like party streamers. “I can handle the food, so all you have to bring is yourself. Unless you want to bring something, of course. Did you want to walk there together or—?”
“I’ll meet you there,” Sunset blurted. “Now get out of here. I have classes to prepare for.”
Folding her wings in, Cadance beamed and said, “Right, I’ve kept you long enough. Just one last thing.” She lowered her head and squinted, giving Sunset a look similar to what one might expect from a surly stallion in some dodgy back alley. “Where d’tha timbah widows creep by midnight?”
Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
In a blink, Cadance became her chipper self again. “That’s all I needed to know.” She turned tail and cantered off towards the castle. “See you tonight!”
Remaining on the threshold for a full minute longer, Sunset replayed the conversation in her head to see if she had missed something. She arrived to the conclusion that Cadance was insane, which actually answered more questions than it raised. She shook her head, plodded back inside, and finished her grand odyssey to the coffee pot.
She skipped the mug and chugged the whole carafe.
As I was reading this chapter, I connected with Sunset on a spiritual level. Namely because my mother showed up to interrupt me, much as Cadance did, to bombard me with pleasantries and things I already knew. She won't even let me sleep.
Oh, Sunset. She'll learn. Eventually. For now, at least she's capable of forcing herself to interact with other ponies.
It's telling that Celestia really doesn't know how to manage either her student or her niece. Too soft and subtle with one, and insisting on calling the other by her full title at all times.
I quite enjoyed seeing Celestia's problem children bounce off of one another. I do love the idea of Sunset having a history with Philomena.
As for Cadence's code phrase... well, I trust we'll see what's going there soon enough.
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I personally relate to Cadance more, as I’m often the one inundating people with niceties to an excessive degree. Hooray for crushing optimism!
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Sunset and Philomena having a close relationship just made so much sense to me, and I’m glad you like the idea too! Can’t wait to explore it more throughout this story.
And don’t worry. You won’t have to wait too long to find out what Cadance was going on about there.
Was that something out of a book? I feel Cadence just made reference to a book.
... nah. I'm probably wrong.
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It does admittedly sound like it could be a quote from a book!
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That is neither a yes or a no, dear Author.
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Don't want to share too much too soon!
Scrolling warning: this comment is over 1700 words.
I'm loving this Sunset so much. Studious and committed to her goals, scornful and opportunistic... but her edge is shown in a slightly lighter shade of steel in this chapter, thanks to Philomena.
I'm doubly glad to see her included, incidentally. First, because it's nice to see her at all after she ceased to exist altogether in the show after A Bird in the Hoof.
Second, because that way, Sunset is given a friend (or as close to that as she can consider anyone, obsessed as she seems to be with "her legend") before her fall. It's a welcome change from Friendship is Magic's usual route.
Cadance is as adorable as ever, to the point of seeing Sunset as "passionate and inspiring" And, true, "a bit brusque" too.
Celestia, for her part... well, this was her first appearance and I can already see the seeds that will grow into Sunset's contempt for her. She just doesn't take no for an answer, does she? And considering her suspiciously specific question—“Did anything noteworthy take place?”—I can't help but look at a line from the previous chapter in a new light: “That’s why you’re here. Partly, anyway.”
Is giving Cadance the Everheart before sending Sunset off to her room another one of the tests you seem to love so much, Princess Celestia? I wouldn't put it past you, 'Destiny's Hoof.'
I also see other seeds, which may explain why she has apparently discarded friendship itself as something worth pursuing in the first movie.
As unimpressed as I am with canon Celestia, though, let me make it clear: I loved Sunset and Cadance to bits here.
Moving on to more technical matters.
I loved that you used "said" rather than 'lied' in "“It was fine,” Sunset said." It'd have been entirely unnecessary, redundant even, given the context, and so you settled for "said." Lovely.
A look at my earlier notes tells me you've changed some bits since this chapter was first uploaded. I'd say it was for the better; "candle glow" feels better than "lunar glow" and so does the "venom boiled on her tongue" sentence compared to the original.
Picturing Sunset standing at the end of a lonely pier, trying desperately not to be snatched by the waves, when you called Celestia's eyes "oceanic" was an interesting image, at least; I just couldn't reconcile her pink eyes with the ocean otherwise.
Speaking of eyes and adjectives, Philomena's "forge-coal eyes." I like it (although I liked what I originally misread it as, 'forge-cold,' more), but I found it out of place for two reasons. First, it's (as far as I remember) the only time the color of anything that's not an object is described in the story; in fact, it's the only time any character's natural features are described, period, if you ignore Sunset's dismissive thoughts about "the pink horror herself" and her "shiny amethyst bubbles."
Second, it feels off to me to describe the eyes of someone you've known for a long time. But this one goes back to my interpretation of 'internal narration,' so to speak, which I'll talk about now.
I've narrowed down why your "murder by metaphor" sometimes threw me off, even though I love it a lot, and that's for the same reason. Note that this isn't a criticism or even a suggestion, just an explanation of why I feel this way.
My 'in-character narration' can be described as 'first-person masquerading as third-person;' a character's thoughts, as they think them in their own head, except with "he" or "she" rather than "I."
A lot of this story is described from Sunset's point of view. I find lines like "For a razor-thin moment, Cadance’s eyes hardened into what could generously be called a glare" to work very well, for instance, because I can imagine her thinking 'that's what she calls a glare? Cute' as the event unfolds.
On the other hand, a line like "Sunset met the princess’s eyes, furrowing her brow like she'd been tasked with solving one of Erudite Enigma's infamous riddles" feels off to me, because the point of view shifts to outside her mind; this sounds like someone else describing what they see as they look at Sunset, again as the event unfolds. I also can't picture Sunset thinking 'have I just been tasked with solving one of these riddles?', perhaps because it doesn't fit the context, or maybe because of how the sentence is worded.
In contrast, I find "Cadance’s wings fluttered like party streamers" to work beautifully, because that's Sunset's description of something she's seeing. I can imagine her being reminded of party streamers.
This is also why referring to Philomena as a "divine bird" gave me pause; I wasn't sure Sunset would add that qualifier given the context and her familiarity with her. At the same time, it was kind of cute that there was one creature in all of existence which Sunset would genuinely call "divine" of all things.
Once again, though, this is an explanation. I'm not telling you to change your writing style. Just because I'm locked into mine doesn't mean others shouldn't exist. I sprinkle all these 'I found' and 'for me' in my comments for a reason.
One last thing about Sunset's perspective before I go into typos and quote the lines I liked; I noticed that she always, always refers to Celestia as "Princess Celestia" during the dinner between them; in fact, she's first introduced into the narration as "Equestria’s reigning monarch." This says a lot about what Sunset sees when she looks at her...
The typos;
'to the moment' (as far as I can tell)
'didn't know horseapples' (again, as far as I understand the idiom)
'this time' (I think)
And the lines I liked;
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Another absolutely lovely comment. Thank you for taking the time to provide so much feedback! It will always be appreciated, and it motivates me to get the next part of the story out that much sooner. Not that I expect such in-depth comments on every chapter, but just knowing that you're so invested in the story is really phenomenal.
That was my primary reason for including her, beyond the fact that the two of them having some kind of relationship just seemed logical. While pre-reform Sunset is indisputably a lone wolf, I think giving her someone she can realistically confide in and trust in some capacity resembling friendship is important, and it will become increasingly important as the story progresses.
Very astute observation, but I think that's all I can say on the matter without giving too much away.
Good to know that you see other seeds, because I've definitely planted a few! Hopefully I can nurture them in a satisfying way as the story continues.
Thanks! I've been trying to get better about that. I've never been especially bad with said-isms, but I'm working on making it a point not to use anything more complex than "said" or "asked" unless it adds something to the narrative beyond what's already provided by the context.
Indeed I have. I might still go in to tinker with a few things since I don't feel like this chapter is as strong as it could be, and probably not as strong as the first chapter overall, but I'm glad to know that you think the changes I've made were improvements.
This is something I have difficulty deciding on a lot of the time. How much narrative space do you dedicate to describing a character's physical attributes? I err on the side of "very little," especially since we know what these characters look like already, but sometimes it's definitely important to emphasize them if it adds to the story in an appreciable way. I think this particular description helps to expand upon Sunset's image of Philomena, albeit in a minor way, which is why I left it in, but thank you for letting me know that you thought it was a bit off.
On the topic of Sunset's internal narrative (not going to quote anything for this one since it would be a relatively long quote), I think you've touched upon an important point. By and large, most of the stories I've written in the past have been of the objective third-person variety, where the world and events are described in an entirely neutral manner and readers are left to interpret things their own way, and I've only recently been branching out into the realm of limited third-person, where the narrative is firmly locked in one character's head and the world needs to be described through that lens. The examples you've pointed out indicate to me that I still occasionally slip back into that objective narration because it's what I'm most familiar with, and while you're right that I don't need to radically change my writing style just based on one opinion, I will try to be more cognizant of this going forward. Colouring the world through Sunset's eyes is integral for this story to work to its fullest capacity, and I want to be as consistent with that as I can be. Thank you for the insight.
Another very sharp observation! That particular line about "Equestria's reigning monarch" is actually one of my personal favourites, because it touches not only on her view of Celestia but also subtly emphasizes her views on Cadance. After all, Equestria is no longer a monarchy as of her coronation.
Thanks again for catching the typos and showcasing the lines you enjoyed. I also appreciate you using spoiler tags to keep the comments as safe for new readers as possible. I will continue to keep your feedback in mind as I work on the rest of the story. Hopefully it'll only get better from here!
As far as back and forth passwords my favorite is still from The Shadow.
“The Sun is shining.”
“But the ice is slippery.”
I love the hint of a potential plot twist of Cadance secretly being a lich. Though if we're going by D&D rules, then each lich has to research and create their own phylactery and their specific special way to die. As in, no two phylacterys or means of death can be the same between two liches.
So that book may not be that useful to any would be lich.
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Yeah, it probably wouldn't be super useful for anyone striving to be a lich. Then again, books that are useful for that process aren't likely to be found in a public library. This one would be more of a "History & Facts About Liches" style of book.
And I think we can all agree that Cadance
iswould be the most adorable lich ever.