Relieved Day, Muddy Midnight


Written by Septia.


“Phhheee…” Celestia sighed as she closed the door to her quarters.  There was an aroma of her royal breakfast still lingering in the air, of grease, cloaked fatty proteins and stale condiments, a scent that reminded her of the outhouse… She wished to be rid of anything reminiscent of such an odour, harkening back to those memories. Appaloosa were not going to be happy with the delay to her visit, especially since the trip to Philistine’s culture festival had gone off without a hitch. Though after her… excursion, to the Wickersteed forest she required a moment's peace, and a change of underwear… or, changing into, any underwear. The princess glanced back to her rear. Down the slope of the yellow summer dress adorning back, falling over her cheeks, draping and strapped between her flanks from the lack of underwear-. Her eyes snapped open. The dress had sunk deep, defining the portly princess hind with more contour and definition than if somepony had painted a massive target on her in black marker. In the rush of strain the princess had scrambled to tug off her dress. She slid out of the front, folding it back over herself, the yellow fabric unfolding over her rear like the petals of a wilting daffodil, the last of the cloth pinched stuck in her hind. “Just, get, it off,” she grunted. Her hind hooves stomping the dress onto the floor, and yanking herself forwards. It crinkled out of the grasp of her her rear in a splutter of dried fabric -Chhrffrrwth-. The matriarch sighed, seeing it fluttering into a fall, with clear folds of crumpled fabric outlining a butterfly of fissures where the cloth had been trapped in her south canyon. She tilted her neck down with a sigh. 
	“I really ought to cut back on frivolous diets,” she mumbled to herself. This whole day had turned into a cornucopia of coincidence and circumstance, certainly, though there was a certain courage in having a scapegoat to condemn rather than carry the consequences of her own accord. Besides, she could do with cutting back some. Celestia hoisted up the dress. The front kept light and airy, though as she leaned in close to the proverbial butterfly folds, -Snnf.- the sniff sent her muzzle caving back in on itself, squished like an accordion that tumbled down the stairs. The air rung foul in a wave of putrefaction with warps of decomposing jerky and crude salad oils. Celestia banished the dress to the laundry basket. She proceeded to stamp it down with her hooves, giving her hind a brief scratch before levitating the garment ahead of her. With her hooves to trap it near the bottom, away from prying eyes. It would be dealt with as would any laundry, residual shame was scrubbed under a platitude of soap and sponges. The cool, comforting air of her bedroom coursed through her lungs. 
	The shackles of embarrassment and strain of her duties eased. Vanquishing the weight off of her veins… she could focus inwards, feel her consicousness through every fiber of her behind, fee-… how… her rear was really itchy… She kept scratching at her hind, digging, massaging over her bun so a crater formed along the cheek where she weighed down the pressure of her hoof… But the itch sat, deeper. She recoiled. Of course… of course her underwear would not be… sufficient for clearing her hind… Banishing the thought of what would have happened, how much worse itwould have been if she abstained… Celestia's cheeks pinched together -Bbbwthham- bumping up with a jostle of steel taut buns clapping firm. Though the tingle disrupted her focus. She planted her hind straight down on the carpeted floor -Bbthwhthsp-. 
	“T’is merely a worldly matter, I have been throuuuoooo w-why?” Celestia asked as the itch spread from the depths of her crack up through her canyon: the ache a spider spun a web over the princess's nerves as it widened its territory across her posterior. Breathe in, then out, in then out… “Have to be strong, but the itch… This irritation plagued her senses. There had to… be a way to be rid of it… she thought, flailing and grinding her back. Opening her eyes, she looked back, noticing she had traversed across half her room on her hind. Forehooves clamped down on the ground ahead of her, and dragged back, hauling her forwards, scooching onwards in some display of raw, primal instincts. She reached her hooves forwards, then halted herself. This was beneath her, this was some sort of-. But her hooves moved out of their own volition, trawling her forward, steamrolling her cheeks plastered to the carpet, brushing her hind against the grace of the bristles in the fabric below, which caressed along the grooves and furrows in her pucker, sweeping away the straining ache. Her pupils rolled up into her head in this stream of relief. “Oh-a-hoahaa,” tingles cascading through her body from dealing with this disgraceful itch. 
	“Jus-just, a couple more…” she mumbled, dragging herself onwards like a tobaggoned and hound all at once, intertwined; scooching, with a brush of her grand hind bulldozing the carpet -Chhptphhgs- to have her hind be blessed by the embrace of the carpet, creeping its way up through her crack with the help of her motions, the bristling, drag of resistance pelting her aching hind with the taboo sensation the alicorn had seldom dreamed of… 
	Celestia stood sharp and straight as a nail. Wings unfolding and flapping along, providing additional drag to wind her onwards, sailing over the brush of the carpet like a ship across a calm ocean. Wingspan folding inwards, she coughed to herself, eyelids pinched taut. “There, has, to be a more poignant solution,” Celestia mumbled to herself. Though without the stride of the graceful carpet,the desire to scratch the ache built, revving like a steam engine… there had to be a way to handle this in a dignified manner, there must be some form of implement… And there it was – upon a tray bestowed upon her by her dear maids, steeped tea –  still steaming – near to a cup; by the side, a jar of honey. It must have been Sweeper Clean, that mare always knew Celestia harbored quite the sweet tooth. Yet, it was not the honey, but what laid beside it. A stick of carved wood tapered off towards a bulb; wooden layers forming a rugged surface and shelves for honey to nestle within: A honey wand. It appeared to… shimmer.
	Celestia's eyes sparkling in its grace. Trotting over, she levitated it with a whip of magic from her horn, spreading her cheeks, and… -Pwwthp- The marriage of wood and flesh commenced. Her tongue lulled out in the jolt of satisfaction crashing through her nervous system: akin to satiating a wailing foal with a pacifier, her royal trench was satiated by nursing the wooden implement. She threaded the first layers of elevated oak disks down to grind against the rhind of her mud chute, and the gentle scrub and twirl of the wand vanquished the ache with a serene spell of alleviation and comfort. Celestia's breath eased, the comfort settling in her nerves as she revolved the wand against the crusted perimeter. “Sweeper Clean, you gorgeous mare. What would I mfmmf, do without y-yooou~.” Celestia mused as she stirred at her pit, scrubbing and indulging with gentle vibrations that flushed the irritation out of her nerves, and let her settle in a calm she had not felt since this morning, gorging on those delectable fried morsels and chugging down her lemonade… perhaps it was too early to give up her lavish meals after all? Celestia pondered, close to the melting point once she had finally found the key that fit exquisitely in her steady lock, and she couldn't help but keep turning, and twisting the key, feeling it soak in and brush away all the discomfort. Such an indulgence… Her mind drifted away, and all the struggles of the day, seemed so inconsequential. All would be fine. 


~ 1 ~


The princess held the honey wand ahead of her. It had served its purpose. And it had done so well. Were she able to provide a title of honor to a tea-time utensil, she would. Though as it stood, she needed to be rid of this too… It would be suspicious to find in the laundry and in the state it was now, it would certainly stand out with the rest of the dishes… She could wash it herself, certainly her wardrobe had some form of shampoo to rid the smell of her shame fr-. 
	-Kkdnk-Dkgnk-KDnnkg- three, clear, consice, knocks at the door. 
	“Princess, would it be fine if I bothered you for just a minute?” 
	Celestia swallowed. That was Twilight. She glanced between the honey wand and the door, then slammed the utensil back on the tray, hidden in the shadow of the honey jar. 
	“Of course, my most studious pupil. My doors shall always remain open for you,” she called out in the soft, regal tone she had developed though the centuries. 
	The door swung open, and the lilac mare trounced inside. “I know, though as a great ruler once said: ask for nothing, and ye shalt receive nothing,” Twilight said, walking up to her mentor's side with a touch of a chuckle. “That ah, was you, though the quote may be a touch old-fashioned at this point.” 
	“Oh, Twilight, if that is old fashion, then what would you call me?” 
	“Oh that's, ahah, I wasn't implying…” 
	Celestia let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, my dear little pony, as much as you have grown there is a cautious politeness that shall never fade.” 
	“Suppose you are right, though I have been reading up on cognitive behavioural therapy that might just, oh, well, no sorry. where are my manners.” 
	“Oh no, do go on.”
	“I can always write you about it later, but I am here to ask how it went on your royal excursions: Quite the trip to go all from Philistine to Appaloosa.” 
	Celestia's brows stiffened for a moment. “Ah, yes, there, were some complications, though I had to move the Appaloosa appointment. Perhaps you would do me company for their address on the morrow?” 
	“It would be my honor, princess, though it is a shame the trip had to be cut short. I know how you enjoy the pastries they cook up in that ol' waterin-ge-hole.” 
	Celestia took in Twilight's attempt at slang with a smirk; it was the uniform pronunciation of somepony who had only read of accents in a book. Which, did fit the bill, and was was most assuredly the case. 
	“Only the more delightful to enjoy it together, dear Twilight.” 
	“Phoo, speaking of, I see you haven't had your tea yet, Princess.” 
	Celestia's insides shattered, only the facade remained congruent in holding her together. 
	“And I am feeling quite parched. Could I join you for a cup?” 
	“I… am not, thirsty,” Celestia… spoke. 
	“Oo, then don't mind if I have a taste? Rather parched and this blend smells delightful.” 
	Celestia reached out for Twilight who levitated the cup and filled it with tea. 
	The stress muddled Celestia's memory: did Twilight enjoy honey with her tea? She was the kind of pony to drink it straight for the steeped flavor, right? But if she did… what kind of excuse could she make for her? If it was even necessary? Her mind wobbled and inverted with uncertainty, affixed to the floor as her pupil finished filling the cup. 
	“Ooh, almost forgot.” 
	Oh no. Sweat pooled at the back of Celestia's head. Seeing the honey wand enveloped in a soft, purple light, raising together with the jar. 
	She reached out a hoof. “Twilight wai-.” 
	The wand dunked past the surface -Chhgtwhhllloop-, the golden fluid seeping into every nook of the carved grooves, spun and twirled through the jar before being hoisted out and drizzling a stream of the turgid syrup down the cup of cloudy drink -Csllrpth-. 
	“Hmm?” Twilight wondered with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, you changed your mind, princess? Would you like a cup?” Twilight said and offered the cup towards her mentor, in a sincere gesture of generosity. 
	She felt her eyes spinning, staring into the cup, watching the folds and tangles of honey coil upon another in the bottom of the porcelain, a swirl of thick nectar that curled and drooled together like a big, steaming, pile of… 
	She swallowed the repulsion before it reached her face. “Please, do go ahead. Just wanted to warn you-… a-about keeping honey i-in… moderation,” Celestia strung the words together like she was knitting a sweater, and halfway through had forgotten what loop or through-stitch meant. 
	Twilight snickered, “I assure you there is nothing to worry about calories on my end. I had a book for lunch, and you know those aren't exactly high in calories,” Twilight snickered. 
	Celestia felt inclined to join the guffaw. As she saw Twilight put the cup to her lips, a sniff, and… take a big swig of the tea. “Aha…aha… hfnnngf-…” Celestia felt a tinge of discomfort wrap at the tip of her tail, coursing upwards, through her spine, ravaging her frame in a cluster of displaced sentiment, the discomfort cultivated through her arteries, unearthed like farm loam.
	“Phaaa… Oo, this blend really got some uh… zing to it. You'll have to tell me what kind this is,” Twilight said with, only a modicum of hesitation. 
	“Mm hmm,” Celestia nodded, with teeth clenched behind a delicate smile. She waited a moment, Twilight followed suit. Just… a long silence, stretching between them, elongating. Did she know? She must must know… But was she just not realising it to her face? 'Wow, Princess, this sure tastes rancid. Did you steep the tea in your plot or something?' But Twilight could never say that, could she? So was this just her playing? Or too awkward to mention it? Did she genuinely not notice it? 
	Twilight went for another sip, the light burbling slurp of tea filling the silence. 
	The fact she couldn't read her student only weighed on her like a carriage… “Ooh, that reminds me, did you remember to pick up that tome on the psychology of trench farming over in Philistine?” Twilight wondered. 
	A change in topic, score. “Yes, I do believe I did. It was quite a busy day, but I saw clear to that errand early on. It should be… should… be, right…” Celestia mumbled. She did recall picking up that book, but, she had other priorities which had been thrown off, certainly today. 
	“That is fine, I know I always remember to put away important things in some clever places, but if I could only recall what those places were afterwards, aha,” Twilight joked. “Perhaps they are just left in the chariot? That might be where you left your necklace too.” 
	“Most possible, I could have left it with… What did you say?” 
	Twilight gestured to her. “You, aren't wearing it.” 
	Celestia felt her hair tense down to its roots, peeking down at her neck. 'Oh, so that's why it felt cool.' 
	“Oh but, we are certain that…” Celestia's eyes bulged open. In her mind’s eyes she saw her vision zoom out from her bedroom. Then out to watch over Canterlot, then out over the land, and further to witness all of Equestria. Then focus, pull in towards the ground, above the Wickersteed forest, close by the pond she had visited, towards the outhouse, and there… at the floor of the outhouse… laid her necklace. A gleaming piece of jewellery in a run down, mouldy atmosphere of rotting bark and a far worse concoction in its depth… 
	Celestia's face froze as she processed this vision, quivering.
	“Princess?” Twilight inquired. 
	Celestia shook her head. “Right, of course. It is certainly just left waiting in the carriage, I will see to pick them up shortly.” 
	“Celestia, with all due-,” she took a sip -Shhrlrp-, “With all due respect, you seem to have had quite a stressful day, I am sure the maids could escort me to-.” 
	“Twilight, Twilight, oh never bog yourself down with such a task. I could use a walk myself, and you just be sure to tend to your own studies, alright?” she said as she started to walk to her, then with the pony, head out towards the exit of her room. 
	“Princess, I assure you that-.” 
	“Oh I assure you, Twilight Sparkle, It is of no concern,” she said whilst practically shoving Twilight out the door. The mare looked back to Celestia, and felt her eyes drawn to the carpet. There seemed to be… grooves in the fabric, the grain of the threads, carved and curved in slopes, with… tracks of… skid marks? 
	“Well if you insist, I am not going to rob our princess of some exercise.” 
	“Ahah, I could use it, couldn't I ahaha,” Celestia mock laughed. “You be on your way now. Thank you for stopping in, bye-bye take care,” Celestia said and shoved the door shut, locking the door behind her student.. She blanketed it with her whole body like a goalie in preparation for a free kick. She held her breath… one… two… three… She heard the taps of Twilight's hooves dancing away in the hallway. 
	“Phaaaoooo…” Celestia wheezed, slumping together by the wall. Sashaying her head she gave a dismal salute to the jar of honey, knowing where it had been, there were precious few uses left for it. She patted her chest, at the vacant space of her necklace. She remembered the choking odour, how heavy the adornment had felt on her lungs. But how could she have forgotten?… She steadied herself. Staring out at the budding evening. Through her window. Striding out on the balcony. Partaking in a carriage back implied giving her guards an explanation of why she were to visit the desolate glade In the Wickersteed forest once more… But, perhaps, tonight… She closed her eyes. Horn lit aglow. At feeling the registry of the sun… that warm, youthful glow lingered after a long day of spreading its light. She comforted it, shushed it, allowed it to rest…. With that, the day's evening, was concluded before its schedule. 


~ 2 ~


Celestia soared in the moonless night. It would be a moment before Luna took to her duties, realizing that no glow laid upon Equestrian, but that would give her just enough time… There was no pony who noticed a shadow in the sky among a world of shadows…


She soared over the forest, once the shine of night was upheld, she landed into the canopy of the trees, towards the silent ground. Silence all around her. Good… it was not far from here. 
	As the princess began to search through familiar vegetation, trying to catch the scent of water or… unsightly substances, lingering on the breezes… she did not consider… that silence, did not ensure she was alone…
	A body shimmied in the darkness, hounding the bright pale mare… Its eyes caught on the grand, plump rump that was jostling gently on their haunches… The creature growled. And trekked through the darkness, closer… closer… Silent, not to spook its morsel. Jaws pried wide, dripping with drool, threading right up to the mare's frame. 
	-Gbbghrhgbghsh- Celestia felt a rumble through her frame, after a brief glance she eased the pressure, her tail hoisted as her cheeks blurred in the vibration of hot mists -Vvvrrfffppprrrwwwprth- The gale fluttered forth in a reek of sweat marinated bone broth distilled into a sharp alcohol wisping through the calm forest air. The Creature was stuck with a mouthful of the stench, filling its maw and clamming into its nostrils. 
	“Hughaahhgha…,” it wheezed out a breath of smog, and slumped down on the ground, cross eyed. 
	Celestia let out a soft sigh. “Haaa… so glad no one was here to sample that one,” she mused and strode onwards, leaving the piled up mammal knocked out in her wake. 


~ 3 ~


It filled her with relief to see the light of the moon reflected in the lake, framing her sister's presence in the sky in a beautiful frame. A place she would adore to share with her pupil. But, she could never bring her with a clear conscience… Trotting onwards, she felt her path through the trees, her steps still fresh. And… there it was… The outhouse… An obelisk of filth towering in its hoof-made horror against the backdrops of the natural world… “In, and out, easy enough…” Celestia said, though it still took her near a minute with her hoof above the handle before she proceeded. “Please be there… Please be there,” She mumbled. 
	-Krrrrrnnnk- The door’s cringes creaked… There it was, gem pointed down to the tile of planks, a deep exhale ridding herself of worry as she reached down for it. “There we are.” 
	A rustle in the bushes -Ckrkrch-. 
	Panic. This was an outhouse, of course some pony lived nearby. And if they did, and saw here… here.
	Celestia rushed into the outhouse, slamming the door shut behind her, and instantly cursing herself for the clack of wood that echoed out amidst the trees. 
	“Perhaps, it was just her imagination…?”
	-Thhhd- A step… -Thhd- Another… it was approaching…


The ursine raised his head, and sniffed. There were scents, unusual, here, ones that were not a summer scent, nor an autumn scent. It was… fresh. Unnatural. It move and lumbered between the trees. And followed its nose. Until it found… the hollow tree. The strange, sharp tree that appeared one day. The scent. It was coming from in there. It walked towards it, raising its paws; and rested them to the bark… 
	“Please just go,” Celestia mumbled to herself, jamming the lock and turning it shut, hoping the intruder would take the hint or think it was jammed. The bear, weighed in on the outhouse. Claws digging into the fiber, carving paths through it, steadying its grasp. 
	“Celestia was muffling her own wheezes, feeling her hooves shake as she held the door in place. The wood buckled, paws slammed against the door, each time digging deeper, a rasp of skinning a tree as it screamed in splinters reverberating between Celestia and the nature-ruled night. “Stop,” she cried out. 
	The bear slammed harder. -Thhtgbpash- “Stop it, o-occupied just give me a moment,” Celestia pleaded. 
	-Ththwhpahg- -Thhtwngaj- slams after another, the ursine weighing into the box… until… -Clkrthc-. The bulk, set the booth off its center of balance. Celestia 's eyelids twitched, feeling the world, tilting backwards… and hearing a chug of a damp mire chugging onwards, staring down the pit to witness the darkness rushing upwards, lard in a crown of tainted white underwear… 
	The Outhouse, tipped. -Thhtbghgh- crashing down flat, its weight balance displaced, dragging it over the edge of a slope in the terrain. Roots and brushwood paved aside as the outhouse tobaggoned down the terrain, underlined by a weighty chug of a bathtub of syrup dunked over a mattress, and the cry of terror reverberating the planks -Chsgltlpgh-. “AhahKyayaaaarhg-.” -Chhgltpgh- though as the outhouse came to a stop, a few meters down the slope, the scream was buried to a faint mumble, and then nothing… 
	The bear, motionless. Paws resting on the ground. Its nostrils flared. -Snnfn- -Snnrrrffth-. The scent it sought, was no more. It sauntered off, leaving the outhouse toppled, and stewing, in silence. 


~ 4 ~


“Princess Celestia? Princess?” Twilight called out, knocking on the door.
	Twilight stepped back, confused. 
	“I, guess she is really not in there.” 
	Sweeper Snack stepped forwards, daintily knocking. “Your majesty? Your sister had to step in to raise the Sun, it is far too late in the evening. Please answer?” 
	She stepped back by Twilight's side. “Strange…” 
	“She must not be in.” 
	“That does not make sense…” A par of royal guards joined them. “The princess has not scheduled any outings, or reported leaving the castle.” 
	“So… we have no clue where she'd been? At all?” the maid said. 
	Twilight shook her had. “She could be anywhere. She could have been kidnapped, we must sound, some form of alarm. If we cannot find her soon, then who knows what could happen.” 
	“But,” the first royal guard interjected, “Her majesty could be anywhere: she could be in the town square, halfway across the continent, or-.” 
	The other guard raised a hoof. “Right there.” 
	Everypony's eyes turned. 
	-A droplet of grime hit the hallway with a splat of overcultured yogurt -Schrlrlptsh-. Drippling from a beard of sludge that had formed down a once elegant neck, now hung low to the ground. It was… difficult to discern the princess; few mares shared her, proportions, but her silhouette was… muddled. Coat drenched in a deep deluge of raw umber and chestnuts hues, cracked with fissures sprawling from her neck down her legs and all across her barrel, slathered. The fissures spread and contracted along with the mare's breaths, softer segments smushed and stretched with tethers of grime webbing them to entwine, while other slabs -Chhglrlg- ground together like coarse sandstone, crumbling with sediments of hardened sludge sprinkled across the ground she strode down. The worse laid to her underside – as though she had hugged an avalanche – but her back wings laid soaked in a tainted auburn, sprawled with a gallant blue spiralling through the pattern of grease and bowel lard coating her frame. The caked on dough reached all the way up her head, where her horn hung drooping with clogs of manure gummed to the appendage, sloughed down like dunes of candle wax pooling down from a long, lit candle. Ironically, there was little of the princess’s former, waxy white to be shown through the overcoat of muck that now made up her attire. Patches of toilet paper draped down her side, plastered and matted to her, the fissured furrows drawing down to the floor like a bride's dress train… leaving paving streaks of moisture in its wake. Her crown sat tilted, and her ears glued with grime to her head in a permanent slope. Stodge full of a mire of dried and goopy sludge, like a cargo of partially-baked cookie batter had been dumped on her, some segments softer, other crispy and crackling. A veritable trove of gunk and sediments drizzled in her path, each step, closing in… The air reached the bystanders… A raw bile of reducing cider to not but a sour pudding, and then boiling it with swamp water and dropping a bag of brine and a mountain of pepper into the pot, and leaving it to stew in basking summer sunshine… the air twisted before it reached the ponies' nostrils, warping the overwhelming tartness up their snouts as the… thing, hazed closer. 
	Twilight covered her face. The maid soon to follow. Both guards, attempting to restrain their composure, but finding themselves only suffering in the onslaught of pickled sweat and molten sulfur slag wafting in the winds as the figure approached. A sting of a neutralizing agent cut through the stench, though its quest to dampen the walking heap of sludge was a trifling endeavor. The stench displaced the air in a mockery of petrichor, as if a fertilized farmland had been struck with a hail of acid rain… The figure slugged up towards the door, ponies parting their way for it. One last, soft step underlined with a slough of sludge -Clslthpgh- stopping the mare in her tracks. The silence filled with the drooling percolation of acidic urine mixed with tart muck. Slow, quaking breaths weaved through the atmosphere. Her wings flopped out for a moment -Clfplwthh- casting a splatter of dung in a rugged perimeter around her, before they folded back in with a crackle and smear of muck plastered between layers of rubber -Chhrllghthth- -Clgphththaght-. The wings slotted into place in the gruelling splat of contorted grime. -Cslpgthahg-glpghtha- Globules of slop dislodged and toppled to the ground in a husk of umber -Sfllvglptwhwp-. Drooling bowel fluids in stretching puddles over the hallway flooring. One, soft breath. 
	The voice wheezed out, through teeth and spittle, as stern as a bowl of lemon peel. “Twilight…” 
	“Y-yes? Pr-princess?” 
	The silence laid pregnant. Celestia's pupils shifted to stare her down. “Do, not, involve, yourself.” 
	Twilight swallowed. Coughing as she held over her muzzle. “U-un. G-got it,” she replied, and backed off. 
	The pupil trailed to the maid. 
	“Sweeper Clean…” 
	“Y-Your majesty?” 
	She turned her head away. “Cancel… any of my dut-… appointments, for, the day…” 
	“B-but I-… Y, -yes.” 
	“Bring… four…” a silence, as a droplet of raw sewage drooled down her chin and splattered against the door, “five, bottles of mouthwash. Four, warm, wet towels… a liter… of shampoo-… p-poo…” she trembled at the word, “and a jug of conditioner…” 
	“O-of course, I'll see to it immediately.” 
	Celestia closed her eyes. 
	“Silver Feather, Ore Shield,” she addressed the guards by name, without a glance. “Speak of this day to anyone…” A heap of dried sludge drooped off of her, cracking against the ground like gavel striking jelly -DDtth-Gplltch-. “You will be banished. To the trenches of Canterlot's sewage system…” 
	The guards stood straight, keeping their posture in the waves of cloying stink, even if their hooves rattled. 
	Celestia hummed and opened the door to her chambers. A sigh fell through tired lips. “Dismissed…” she wheezed and stumbled inside. 
	As the door closed, one a chunk of slop drooped down off of Celestia's horn, uncovering a piece of fabric, flopping under the grime slathered weight… a pair of once petite, delicate underwear. 
	Shield blinked and looked loser, before the door shut. His eyelids flashed open with realization “Ooooh, so that's-,” he said with clarify slicing through the strained atmosphere, “So that's where her underwear went.”