On the observation of evil and the escapism of oneiromancy

Who's the biggest anarchist here?

Who's the smartest guy here?

Who's the toughest judge here?

Who's the smartest god here?

E. Letov. «Take the coat»

— What happened? — I'm asking. — Belkin, — Petrovich is puzzled today, — You have blood pressure and tachycardia according to the instruments. And you, for a minute, were lying in a capsule with a half-dead brain! We decided not to take any chances until we find out. Until we find out. Is that clear? Until they find out if there's another fool like me with a burnt brain. — Okay. And this… Next time you need to put matches or a lighter in the drawer. And there are more cartridges for the gun. — How will it go. If the manifestation in the form of a horse pulls a marker into the inhabited area, you cock, not a gun. Not enough to shine the level of technology! Who are you gonna shoot? — Am I to understand that this world doesn’t really exist? Then what can be the precautions regarding the hybrid «peppers» and double-barrelled verticals? I did not bring them «Nikonova»! — This «non-existent» world, if you have not forgotten — Petrovich pointed a finger at me, — Uses human brains as the basis of their own existence! As a medium! It's like a Thursday. The question is the same: what's the use of a gun for ponies? And Petrovich kept splurging that they might guess what and who they were, or that all these ponies were just a picture, a facade behind which slimy gates were hiding, ready to fly to the ground with a crunch. Well, figuratively. I don't think it's that serious. Perhaps later it will become a curious case of harmless mass insanity. However… — When the phenomenon of the cerebral arousal wave was discovered, was anyone injured? — I decided to clarify. — About five cases. And about a hundred more unreliable ones. There are fatal outcomes. And madness. What a turnaround! Yes, in a city of millions of people, cars knock out more people in the same period, but every new epidemic generally begins with a «zero» case! — By the way, where did you put the gun? — Where could I put it? Should I take it with me? From glitches? — Damn, this love of secrets has been running wild since the Soviet Union. — Bury it. Hide it. Destroy it. Throw it into the river. Should I list further? — Petrovich said it with such sarcasm that... — No. I'm afraid it's bad. I asked the local pony to hide somewhere, — Looking at the crimson Petrovich, I hurried «correct». — She'll hide it because she doesn't want to be an accomplice... — Belkin, bitch, you should be shot for this! By hanging, fuck it! Fifteen days of execution for you! Do you understand?! With subsequent compulsory treatment in a mental hospital! I told him about fucking secrecy, and he... — My «glitch boss» suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. — What kind of accomplice do you have there? Have they stolen something or broken it? — There’s, uh... overreacting? Well, saving a girl from some rogue bullies. — Holy shit! There’s a girl in there already? Who the fuck is the mare bride? Belkin, you fucking zoophile! What did you do? — I used my service weapon to protect a civilian! — I said with my eyes bulging. — Three shots fired! Attackers neutralized! — Are you sure they're neutralized? — Petrovich's looking a little gray now, but he was looking with hope. — When I buried it, there were no signs of life. I did not look at what was charged, but there... — Go. Get out of my sight. Fucking killer! — Well, I got for a relatively good deed from the boss. — Then we'll contact you. And show the doctor with this pressure.

***

— Didn't you find a better time? — What's the big deal? — An elegant thin-boned unicorn was twirling a multitool in hoofs. — Let them think that I'm going to fuck you. — Considering that, according to you, we are, although very distant, but relatives… — Even more so! — The unicorn was a little younger than Sandy and much more brazen. — Funny thing. But as if under the paw of a griffin or even a minotaur. Not a new model of what? — Do you have more than one Discord? — Sandy looked at the fop with a bit of distaste. — You'll do it anyway in your own way, no one will get to the bottom of it, whether it's under a griffin license or something else. The coxcomb chuckled. What infuriated Sandy the most was that the «relative» was colored to match the color of her mane. Ash-turquoise, but darker. And he wore his own mane and tail in the suit of Sandy herself: gray-yellow or yellow-gray. The stamp is in the form of a cracked gear. He says he got an alarm clock for finally being killed in the process of «fixing» it. And the unicorn took off the camera with a bowl of flash from his neck and put it on the table, pushed the lens accordion apart. «Amulet» put on a sheet of paper, next to the coin fit in one bit to understand the scale. Sitting on the floor, he searched through the bag on his stomach, looking for the right records. Sandy wanted to say something nasty, that he wasn't going to jerk off to a new toy here, the pose was too funny, but she refrained. A new (or monstrously old) thing is money. Her money. Not even the thing itself, but an understanding of its structure. Principle. Celestia had long ago passed a law that all unusual, magical antiques should be immediately surrendered to the Crown, in order to avoid and other tra-la-la, but the ponies were in no particular hurry. The case of the Alicorn Amulet did not teach anyone anything at all, but simply «clarified» the law. Sorceress jewelry? Princesses! Incomprehensible camel cock? Princesses! A piece of what, next to which breaks along the magic test crystal? Also Princesses! Let them have it in the castle and explode. And various nonmagical things can be «lost». «All unusual, magical things» can be read as «unusual and magical too». It is possible as «unusual and at the same time magical». And sure enough antique with all this. Sandy was looking for things like this. And she was. And honestly surrendered, helping with the classification as best she could. But some things were not old enough to surrender. And not unusual enough from the point of view of any earth pony «from the Dam» or from the Baltic Shipping Company, which are not alone. And they were definitely things without magic. Contact pads with a super thin layer of gold, metal samples, pieces of some ribbed vases or ductile iron pots and other debris. Clay rods, burned with powdered powdered rust, for which it was not possible to obtain a significant sum from «Philidelphia main Electric Company». Interestingly, but behind the buyers were not necessarily unicorn clans. Often it was and earth pony. Very rarely — pegasus. A couple of times Sandy suspected griffin interest, which led to auditory hallucinations. There was a sound of the pickaxe pounding on the stone, and a whip clicking, a nasty cursing and a cough over the garden. But when you show some weird pony an even weirder, darker glass with extra wire legs, and he changes face... And then the bank changes its account. And again. And again. Officially, Light Sand was listed in the Baltimore Archaeological Society. Honestly writing articles and reports, taking from another cloaking house like Everfrey some clay skulls or pieces of armor of the Sombre period from the very north, and herself, controlling the loading of lined dry straw boxes with this archaeological debris on the train, went to the train chief or the train driver with a package. — What's in there? Is there nothing like that?.. — There is nothing like that. It looks like parts from a centrifugal regulator. For some reason, magnets are hung there and windings are on the side. Let the authorities take a look. A magic flash clicked on the crystal in the holder in front of the «bowl» covered with white rough enamel from the inside. Then another picture, but without a flash. Again, a man-made lightning bolt and a picture, but from a different angle. — Won't you give the item back? — You'll overdo it. This is my lucky thing. — And did you bring a lot of happiness? — Quipped Nir Edge, who was most likely teased at school by the Near-from-the-edge. — In order. The sharp, dry sound of the gunshot. There is no smoke, it's just a changeling falling like it's been knocked down, and then the body shudders from an internal, dull explosion. The wings of the second rattle. Shot. Choking sound. Another shot. Hit like a whip on the sand, sharp and scattering the upper layer. «My name is Valentin Belkin».

***

But all because the shredder is not coping! Her Majesty Chrysalis was pleased to be angry. Not to say that she spent it right away, but the Sisters powers seemed to be something enviable. On the other hand, she almost won that time not by force, but by cunning and thoughtfulness of spells. A little more, and it was possible to demand certain preferences from Celestia, plastered with enchanted slime, and legalize the shifters as residents of the enclave. Well, she would have fooled around for a week while the «wonderful salvation from captivity» of both Princesses was considered. But for some reason, Sun-ass put her little ragg... little textbook magician into the game. And everything went awry. Chrysalis remembered all the subtle taunts at secret tea parties, where she gritted her teeth in anger, but was forced to endure a long and sophisticated revenge of the conversational genre. For the slime, no other way. So Selka was not against the experiment of including changelings in Equestrian society, but on her own terms. Chrysalis was in no hurry to agree. The changelings already had a crisis (just joke about the name!), which the queen bit off from different sides, but could not level out. The leaky beetles began to live too well after the royal innovations. And they have increased in number. Not immediately, but some progress became noticeable. And the positive emotions necessary for the normal functioning of the nervous system were not received in the right amount. Not to mention the quality. The leader, who decided that «it is impossible to live like this anymore», Chrysalis ordered to be arrested and brought to her for an conversation. During the conversation, Her Majesty was victorious to the wise man verbally «fuck» in an ugly form. After the abuse, Chrysalis, as expected, conceived a plan in her head. So, Thorax gathers all the dissatisfied, whining and ready to lick the Sunny Ass, and... «Thorax, honey, what kind of croup? Have you seen Celestia up close? She's tall! But she is tall and well-proportioned, she does not resemble her own skeleton. And with such sizes, any right croup turns into an ass!» ...he's going to ask for political asylum and other stuff. Since the «emigrants» will live next to the pony, there will be enough fuel. The number of dissatisfied and lazy changelings in the Hive will decrease accordingly. Chrysalis stretched like a cat, almost reaching the wall of the royal cabin with her front hooves. The Queen did not have the same locus as the Sisters. And she was tired. What was a trivial matter for the Princesses took a lot of effort or time for Chrysalis. For example, you can use a sophisticated spell that turns the wood and other debris collected by the team into dust. Charge the starting crystals. Remove the sand from the fatty toxic mineral oil. With the latter is easier: magic pushed diluted some poisonous oil through the fabric. Then she telekinesis a whole storm in the barrel and, like a fool, held that oil tornado for half an hour. But half the oil could be reused. She left the corridor from the «royal» cabin, which was approaching the wall cabinet in her rooms in Hive. The first of the scouts who had been sent to the city was galloping towards her. — Your Majesty! — Well? And shorter! — The water will be delivered by morning! We also agreed with the station chief, he wrote off several barrels of fuel oil and is ready to give coal for a song! — Why would? — Chrysalis looked at her charge through a lock of her mane. By the way, did he give up by any chance? A subject... — Well, I understood that the coal is bought «from their», low-quality, but a lot. And the steam engine stoves began to be covered with manure from such a coal... Oh, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty!.. Chrysalis chuckled. — So what? — And this smart-as... smart pony decided that it was better to dilute the filthy coal with good coal than to be responsible for the damage to the locomotive. And so the furnace will get dirty at the other end of the way, Discord knows where, and it's not his fault. And what will lose money, so freedom is more important than money… — Okay. And how do we charge it into the car? — We fully hoped for the power of magic revealed by our queen, — The scout whispered in horror, falling on his face. — To die is not to get up! Am I a separator for you? Chrysalis looked at the shivering shifter. — They've got some kind of manure, and they're still late! What are your friends doing there? They drink, but not water? — I'm sorry, p-p-please, your Majesty! But there's some kind of holiday for ponies, they might notice… It's better at night, when everyone is full. — What kind of holiday? — Unpleasant forebodings went from the back of my head to my tail in a wave of goosebumps. — It was said that the Guardians, led by the Princess of Friendship, visited Dodge City! — Interesting… In fact, Chrysalis was not at all interested in which member, I'm sorry, the Keeper of the Accordion Details forgot (that was a dream recently!) in a provincial town. Most likely, Celestia kicked the initiative fools out of the capital under the pretext of urgently helping Twilight get acquainted with the country. The new princess, this and that… But in reality they were sent to a rural binge. It is for the penis. There is little hope for the capital's «rear-wheel drive» unicorns, all sorts of hustlers are also not an option… Sensation! Princess Twilight Sparkle has contracted a fucking disease! Only in the «Canterlot Bulletin»! Hurry up and read! Y-yes... Let it be better to «in nature», among strong and savvy on the feet, and not in perversions, stallions. To have enough. Cause when a fucking filly gets in your head, especially Alicorn, it's often... — Your Majesty! — The unfortunate scout raised his head. — I remembered! Twilight Sparkle has to go on some kind of expedition to the Badlands! — Da yob tvoyu babushku! — Chrysalis uttered an untranslatable curse, picked up from those strange ponies. — There was no sadness, the Wendigo was drugged! Why is it always like this? Okay, they definitely will not leave before noon. Unless it's to the bathroom or the mild cider. Then they can and get out, Tway will stir everyone up, that Celestia is waiting, hoping and all that. Have they gathered anything? Hardly. But they could have taken everything from the capital... — My queen! — The scout whined. — None of them have a Mark associated with excavations and deserts! — Then we'll go right away, because stupidity is incurable. Bad. They won't let us ride and work properly, — Chrysalis sighed. — We'll have to start the car by morning, load up quickly and leave. On the way, we pick up the «number one» team and jump to the second point. And we hope that enough fuel has been collected there. By morning, a dust storm began. Weak. Chrysalis graciously held the magic shield over the shifters who were carrying supplies and went into the cabin, leaving the canned glasses dangling around her neck. I wanted to take a bath, not wipe myself with napkins. The deserted ship was rocking slightly in the wind. — Captain? — Yes, Your Majesty? — Can we leave right now? — Quite, Your Majesty! Wind with sand, windmill can not lift... And the charge in the crystals is enough. Everything is immersed, the pressure in the cylinders is raised from the evening. We have no business here. — Then what are we waiting for? To steam engine without steam Chrysalis is not used until now. Without steam and without boiler. Well, it was a small boiler, but it was like a boiler and a boiling water source. And the engine itself took up most of this tartar wheel about eight huge wheels with spokes. A rotating furnace, heated by a fire vortex a series of healthy cylinders. The compressed air in the cylinders pushes the pistons, flows into the cylinders on the roof, cools and is pushed back again. The shaft of the machine rotates the pumps and the wheels themselves through different gears and oil clutch. As there is a transmission of rotation, Chrysalis did not fully understand, as well as in the work of the engine. But here, they are driving somehow. Had to turn on the headlights. The helmsman jerked when the queen came in, but he did not get up. So it was supposed to be. «The Queen is on the Bridge!» — Said the captain of this huge wagon. Chrysalis looked at both compasses. The first was floating in a liquid under a transparent glass cap with a ball with a drawn arrow. The second was a rabid spindle in two horseshoes. Both devices indicated that the car was moving about south. «The wind will wipe out the tracks, — Thought Chrysalis. — We are all like footprints in the sand». The sand rustled on the plating.

***

Valentine didn't sleep well. Dreamed of different kinds of mud. For example, he was walking on the humming mud from autumn and some rotten field. He's heading for the big barn in the middle of this field and the edge above the mud. On the field, a trail like a barn sliding through mud and dead vegetation in a strange way. Valentine knows there’s nothing inside except a light bursting from the cloudy windows, a labyrinth of falling blocks and a floor of earth and planks. Or from boards soaked in once liquid manure and becoming earth. Sweet peat smell, shitty dust. A piece of rusty chain. Void. And he needs to get there in time, look inside, going into one of the outbuildings, booths, with which the barn is overgrown, like tumors. And jump back out before this structure starts to creak somewhere, dropping chipped pieces of slate from the roof. Oh, yes! It is still necessary to escape before the moment when… Then Valentine woke up. Most likely, everyone woke up, but disgust? The hint of a slow wrong post, or a fountain of rotten meat, bone fragments, planks, fish feces and blood... Only a hint of this lazy thick stream of impurity, obscenely curving somewhere behind the «sole» of the clouds... The heart was pounding so much that it hurt like a fist pounding from the inside. The pulse is frequent, but it's not stuck. For some reason, wanted to call Maryska, apparently, forgot the way to the library. Three o'clock in the morning. «Belkin, you fool. Fool and sick!» For some reason was worried about Sandy. Once again, to feel: a sick person on the head is sitting at night in the kitchen and worrying about the character from his glitches. Well, okay, not just from his own. Holy shit, taking care of fictional friends! He remembered the pills he'd given him. He ate one. The tablets helped him to detach from his feelings. Belkin went and lay down again, and now he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Far, far away the window was noisy rare night cars. The night shone with sodium and mercury. And the glow of LEDs crumbled in the eyes. At the edge of the inner perception fluttered a sea of organic waste. Slimy and exfoliated, like a rotten jelly.

***

This was the first time Chrysalis had seen this. A huddled bunch of frightened changelings, who took on the appearance of sand-colored pegasuses. The storm had already ended, and these «scouts» were shaking with chills in such heat, hiding from the sun under an awning bent under the weight of the marked sand. — Well? — The queen jumped down onto the sand, spreading and folding her wings for a couple of moments. — Were you afraid of the storm? Shame. It's a shame. — It draws in magic, — Whispered one of the scouts, Night Scope, it seems. — The air seems to become crystalline, even crunchy, — Added the second, whose name Chrysalis did not bother to remember. The third was just crying silently and tearlessly, breathing quickly and superficially. — Get on board! — Chrysalis ordered, and the shifters took on their natural appearance with silent green flashes before climbing into the car. — Well? — My queen, — Scope bowed, but didn't go anywhere. — We found her. Chrysalis looked at the scout carefully. — She's here, not far away. The queen followed the shifter. It was necessary to go really near, but strongly away from the «road», to the rocks protruding from the sand. In a valley formed in the sand by wind vortexes, it was found... At first Chrysalis thought that it was dragged into the desert unknown magic steamer. On the bent shaft the screw, which had too long blades, froze dead. The strangely pointed stern was shattered with rusty sheets. The wreck itself was covered with sand. — She's been here since the Fall, — Whispered Night Scope. — Or a little later. — Did you climb inside? — Chrysalis scowled, pointing at the dark hole on the side with her front foot. — It's just sand and junk, my queen. — From the Fall, you say? — Chrysalis realized it wasn't about the ship falling. The fall of Stalliongrad. Broken monuments to the Founders. Ugly sealed bazaars under the now ragged and chipped, and once proud domes of steel and glass. Rusty steam locomotives on the tracks, from which again the rails were stolen, and the skeleton of the airship across the airfield, like the remains of a beached sea dweller. Unhealthy lust for a simple pony in the air. Through the teeth of the chattering unicorns that had come from Canterlot to break the magic of the underdeveloped machines in the steel mills, where shrubs were growing through the floors. Celestia, who had not deigned to come to take the oath of the new Equestrians. And they could not become any Equestrians. In the plans of those who for Celestia counted when and how many new bits to mint, there was no room for ponies speaking a different language. And thinking differently. Your monuments are idols, and they are detestable to the Sisters! Your wrinkled runes are not like the graceful horseshoes of the Equestrian alphabet, forget them! Your language is too rude and aggressive, speak the language of the masters! Yes, hosts, for you are only half-intelligent animals, like cows. At first, Chrysalis, familiar with these events at the level of dry intelligence reports, thought that Selka was playing the goddess. Then she began to suspect the arrogant unicorn clans, who decided that they could lead the alicorn by the nose. And only recently, the head of Her Leaky Majesty was visited by the thought that the level of magical skills of some very important unicorn and the magical scattering registered at his mansion did not match. And the magic was something else too. Dead? No, more of a denial of all intelligent life. The Stalliongrad ponies seemed to understand that they had accepted this ruthless principle of the gradual abandonment of corneous witchcraft. But they still continued to use the services of unicorns. Which failed them, because their unicorns were not enough, and invited... Like they were infected with something. — Do you understand the principle? — Chrysalis nodded at the ship. — Like an air carriage, — The scout grimaced. — Rows of crystals enchanted to reduce the weight, and the steam engine is only for movement. — Most likely, there was something there to resume weaving, — The queen thought aloud. — And everything worked, until suddenly… — Like Tirek, — Night Scope suggested. — Inhaled all the magic and exhaled it already dead. — What did it look like? How did it feel? — The sky has become almost black and transparent. Strange, but different to say. Instead of starry drawings only dim dots surrounded by red rings. The air just doesn’t go down your throat like you swallow crystal shavings. No spell works, not even a preliminary concentration, as if something had finally finished inside. I read that this was during the wendigo. That was all that was missing. Chrysalis was secretly convinced that in those early days, from the inside out of reality, something was trying to get into the land of colored horses. Something that had no name or place in this world. It... Takes offerings from Mercury Lakes. And Bottomless Wells. ...wanted to incarnate and for this purpose gathered magic, something whispered... How to find in the broken bones of a criminal mage cylinders of unknown metal, hiding the Corpse Writings. — Let's go to the car, — Chrysalis said softly, not even ordering, but requested. — Take me away. She was still sitting for a while, leaning against the spoke of the wheel. She scooped up the sand with a hoof, loosened her hoof kinesis, and watched as warm coarse sand, rustling, covered the hole. She painted her name in Stalliongrad runes. I< P N 3 4 ^ N C Erasing the drawings. She recollected how she, the queen of changelings, communicated with those ponies through translators, not understanding, except for individual words, this speech that destroys the usual magic. All right, enough pointless reflexes! Chrysalis jumped, her wings clinging to the magic in the air... After all, it can end, and you will fall, you will spin absurdly, like that flying steamer! ...and threw herself onto the cargo deck of a desert ship. Passing into a frankly narrow corridor, she nodded to the shifter on duty at the door that it was possible to lock the heavy sash. She made it to the wheelhouse. — Captain? — The queen is on the bridge! — Put it down! — Chrysalis interrupted the ritual. — What do we have in our cart that is magical, without which we will not be able to move? — Nothing, my queen, — The captain grinned unkindly. — Except, headlights, and that's the result of magic, not her! — Okay... Then we'll have to go somewhere else, — The queen bumped into the still empty seat of the spark transmitter operator. — Something might happen to the magic there. You'll pick up the guys who are more stable so that they can take the ship out of there, if anything. — Yes, my queen! — And this... I can get twisted there, I'm some kind of alicorn. So, I allow you to stuff me with sleeping pills or drain all my emotions, if you can. To the point of stupor. While I'm lying around, we need to get as far away from the center of Badlands as possible. Take any measures to avoid meeting anyone. — As my queen says. Can we go now? — The captain squinted at the pressure gauge. — Wait. Send someone with a camera, — Chrysalis waved her front leg. — Have her carefully sneak inside those wrecks and take pictures of the machines. Erase the traces behind yourself. When they come back, we go without orders.

***

The town accompanied the Six on an expedition. Since the event was secret, the ceremonial send-off was canceled, and alcohol supplies were depleted. But each of the residents, as well as many pets, knew that the Guardians of the Elements were going on a Terribly Secret Hike somewhere to the center of Badlands. «There are no words», — Said herself, shaking her head, the Earth’s pony Light Sand. Yeah, all letters. The showdown was planned for the evening, while Sandy carefully sketched the appearance of the item. Light gray and «greasy» on the look of the alloy was quite light for such a volume. Not magnesium, not a new expensive metal, extracted from strange clays of incredible complexity and strength of electrical magic, but something solid, like old steel. Sandy breathed a few times and decided to pull a flat lever. The stem block carefully pointed at the wall, away from itself. The object quietly clapped and tilted the barrels. Not even the barrels, but one bar with through holes of variable diameter. Sandy grabbed a foreign object and shook slightly. Nothing. Pulled the guns even further. Yeah, the bottom of the casings came out. The bullets were strange in the materials, but familiar in appearance. Ordinary such bullets for Legion and Night Guard rifles. Sometimes the Guard used. But it was quite «sometimes», since the Guard, armed with powder weapons, is a sign of mass disorder or epically fucked up war by someone, not necessarily the ponies themselves. «I picked up on this Belkin», — Thought Sandy. Pony carefully removed all the bullets and put them in a tin box of lollipops. Sandy had the tablets in the same one. A pair of bullets were in poor condition, with transverse ruptures, which showed strange powder grains and a turbid wad of obscure slippery material, resembling the wrong tendon, or translucent fish vertebrae. Like many ponies, Sandy regularly tried animal protein. And like all of these ponies, she hid it even from herself. The town was cleaned up a little bit, and Sandy walked out on the street like that, no shoes, and in one of her pancakes. The weapon was carefully hidden back in a double-bottomed bucket, along with the drawings. She did not go to the square. In fact, she did not have to go anywhere. Walking. She was at the edge of her mind, thinking it was time for some crime, and just like that, she's going to have more adventures on croup. But the town was quiet, as quiet as any settlement near a pony can be considered. Always some whistling with a scandal. Light Sand roamed the streets without entering any backyards or areas of coal warehouses, carriage houses, and steam shops. She climbed the wooden steps over a small shaft stretching beyond the horizon. There, beneath a layer of sand and dry clay, a thick cable rang silently in a brick box, supplying electricity to all of Dodge City. Overhead lines, delicate and cheap, were banned by the Crown because of a couple of pegasus accidents. They, you see, are not afraid of lightning and wires! And after the «fireworks» no one to understand the difference between magic lightning and arc discharge. As Sandy was reading somewhere, from a real thunderstorm, which, with clouds a few miles high, a darkened sky and a broad front half a map, the pegasi were flying around. It doesn't disperse like tiny clouds that mark places of spontaneous magical knots in the air. Therefore, just tried not to bring to such, which meant the need for constant correction of the weather. And still nature took its own. Sandy realized why she was always on the same streets. She left the house out of a precaution, so that the Guardians of the Elements (due to another blow of urine to the head of one alicorn) did not find her and were not forced to go somewhere to Discord on the horns or turn her own head under «completely safe» incantation. Outright refusal would be considered a crime. Like, Celestia has sent a new princess, everyone bows, and she is sent to a certain organ, and regarding this organ itself, too... they send… Yes, Sandy, darling, you don't have a problem with that. Fucked without asking who she was. And almost killed. You have a great sex life! Yes. And in general, Light Sand swirled exactly where she had seen small foals play «Guard and griffins» or something not particularly approved in the capital. And one of them, she saw shell casings brought in and donated by her father or something. Sand-yellow, like Sandy herself, lacquered cylinders made of dense multilayer cardboard, equipped with brass round. Smelling like someone burned a rotten egg. «How is it? — Thought the pony. — Insert all six bullets, click the barrel block. Raise the weapon to the level of the eyes. And shoot». Sandy didn't see any reason why a thing like this couldn't have a normal pony trigger instead of that squiggly button under Belkin's finger.