THE BEGINNING OF THE END—PART ONE
Written by Joanna Lewis, Kristine Songco
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to an extreme close-up of Twilight Sparkle’s galloping hooves, seen in time with her labored breathing. The camera tilts up to frame her racing along a stony path that snakes through a meadowland, Spike beating his wings furiously to keep up. It is daytime, and a cut to behind the pair brings their objective into view—Canterlot. Planting all four hooves on the rise she has just topped, she hurls herself into a desperate flight alongside her number-one assistant to close in on the grand city. In the far distance, a row of multicolored specks that can only be her friends has gathered at the far end of the open drawbridge. Cut to them, turning to fly/gallop through the archway and its open gates once Twilight and Spike have rocketed in over their heads.)
Fluttershy: Oh, good. We’re all here.
Twilight: So everypony got an urgent summons to the castle with no explanation?
Pinkie Pie: Yep! I just love a good mysterious summons.
(She gathers part of her mane in front of her face to act as a false beard on the end of this line, then lets it go and sidles up to Rainbow Dash.)
Pinkie: What’s it about? (to Fluttershy) Do you think it’s a surprise party? (to all) Hey! Why are we running?
Twilight: Because something could be terribly wrong! Somepony turned bad? Another evil creature back for revenge?
Applejack: Don’t you think you’re bein’ a little paranoid?
Twilight: Why else would the Princesses send scrolls in such a hurry?
Rarity: Good point. They’d know better than to make us worry.
Pinkie: Plus, I like it when you run so fast, the walls get all blurry!
(The camera pivots and pans around her at a sickeningly fast velocity to produce that very effect, then returns to her—eyes replaced by vertiginous blue spirals.)
Pinkie: Whee!
Rainbow: Race you!
(She is gone in a blaze of multicolored light, leaving the pink mare to bounce rump over teakettle along the thoroughfare. In no time the seven are hurtling through a courtyard toward one of the entrances to Canterlot Castle; cut to a set of closed doors within as they burst through from the other side and hit the brakes, Spike having shifted to leg-power. Pinkie is the last to arrive, barreling in as an equine cannonball to knock the dragon off his feet, but a couple of flaps are all he needs to right himself.)
Princess Celestia: (from o.s., solemnly) Girls…
(Cut to just behind Twilight and Spike. The group has arrived in the throne room, in which Celestia and Princess Luna occupy their seats of power on the top level of the dais.)
Celestia: …thank you so much for coming.
Twilight: What’s wrong? What can we do?
Luna: That’s just it. (as both sisters smile) Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s perfect! (Cut to Twilight/Applejack/Pinkie.)
Applejack: Did y’all call us down here just to tell us that? (Pan to Rarity on the next line.)
Rarity: With all due respect, Majesties, you might want to save your urgent summons for matters that are a bit more…well, urgent.
(Celestia and Luna trade a gentle laugh.)
Luna: Well, there is more to it. (Long shot of the room; slow pan.) Equestria is currently enjoying its longest period of harmony in recent years. (Cut to Celestia.)
Celestia: And it’s all thanks to you, Twilight… (Close-up of a surprised Twilight; she continues o.s.) …and your friends, of course. (Zoom out to frame all seven.)
Spike: (smugly) Who, us?
Rarity: Oh, pshaw. (Demure giggle.)
Rainbow: It’s about time you noticed.
Twilight: (bowing) Thank you!
Luna: Because of your efforts, there’s been less and less for us to do.
Celestia: So after much consideration, my sister and I have decided it is time for us… (firmly) …to retire!
(Sounds of unmitigated disbelief from the gang, followed by a flash that heralds the arrival of Discord. Dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, necktie, vest, fedora with press card in the band, notepad and pencil at the ready—a reporter itching for a scoop.)
Discord: (taking notes) Breaking news! The Royal Princesses retiring! I have so many questions! (He floats over to the pair.) Who’ll take over? Who will run Equestria? Will it be someone tall, dark, and handsome— (vanishing pad/pencil) —or will it be the Lord of Chaos?
(No fewer than four copies of his taloned forelimb wink into view and point directly at his grinning mug. Celestia just throws him an indulgent smile and points down off the dais; cut to ground level, one pair of eyes after another widening at the realization that the gesture is aimed at Twilight.)
Discord: (disdainfully) Oh, fine. Go with the obvious choice.
(The spare appendages have cleared the area now. Zoom in slowly on the newly upped Princess, who manages a half-choked cry, and fade to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to a stretch of one of the throne room’s stained-glass windows, against which Twilight stands up into view in a full-on tizzy.)
Twilight: You’re retiring?!?
Spike: (hovering up alongside her) Princesses can retire? (Long shot of the room; slow pan.)
Luna: (laughing gently) Of course we can. I for one am looking forward to a little R&R—maybe a trip to Silver Shoals. (Cut to Twilight.)
Twilight: And you want me to take your place?
Celestia, Luna: (nodding) Mmm-hmm.
Luna: With the help of your friends, of course.
(The violet face shifts from brain-locked fright to a welcoming smile as her six fellow travelers gather in close.)
Celestia: We can’t think of anypony more worthy. (She lifts off from the dais and touches down facing Twilight.) Over the years, we’ve watched you grow. You’ve faced task after task. (Luna joins her.)
Luna: Challenge after challenge.
Discord: (floating lazily past on his back, reporter attire gone) Countless adversities, yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it.
Celestia: And you’ve always prevailed. (She rests a hoof briefly on Twilight’s shoulder.)
Twilight: Thank you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m—that we’re ready to do what you do! (Cut to Celestia, backing up next to Luna.)
Celestia: (laughing) Oh, of course you are. I realize this is a lot to take in, but—
Rainbow: (from o.s.) Nope. (She hovers near Twilight.) Makes perfect sense. We’re awesome! (Gasp.) Does this mean we get all your powers? Ooh, ooh! I call dibs on showing up in everypony’s dreams!
(The grinning flyer is unceremoniously hauled back in Twilight’s aura.)
Twilight: You can’t be ready to step into their horseshoes just like that!
Applejack: Well, if the Princesses think it’s time to retire, we’re not a bad choice. We always have Equestria’s best interests at heart. (Spike nods.)
Twilight: That’s a fair point— (floating out quill and notepaper) —which should be taken into consideration when we have a round-table discussion!
Rarity: Well, I’m in! (The items drop into Spike’s grip; she brings up a measuring tape.) Darlings, we’ll all need a complete wardrobe update. (Send it away; address the Princesses.) And I would love to pick your brain about mane maintenance—when you have a moment.
Fluttershy: As long as we all have each other, I’m sure we can do it.
Pinkie: (jumping in place, rising to hind legs) Yay! “Protectors of Equestria” on three!
(She leans forward, extending a foreleg, and Rarity touches one of hers to it.)
Pinkie: One… (Applejack follows suit.) …two…
(A yellow hoof is put in, then a sky-blue one and a clawed violet hand; Spike has put aside his quill and paper. The twelve eyes wired to these appendages turn expectantly toward Twilight, who blows out a long breath.)
Twilight: (smiling) If you’re all on board, I guess I am too. (She adds a hoof to the pile; overhead shot of the group.)
All seven: (throwing limbs upward) PROTECTORS OF EQUESTRIA! (Ground level again.)
Twilight: It’ll be a bit of an adjustment, but I imagine the transfer of power will be a lengthy process which will give us— (Cut to Celestia and Luna on the next line.)
Celestia: Actually, we just need a few days to put together a little ceremony.
(Discord, standing behind them, is noticeably caught out at this assessment.)
Twilight: (giggling weakly) A few DAYS?!? (“Uh-oh” groans pass among the other six.) But that’s so soon! Shouldn’t there be some sort of training program that lasts weeks—no, months, if not YEARS?!?
Celestia: Everything you’ve gone through over the years has been a training program.
Twilight: Okay, but there’s gotta be a guide or a rulebook?
Discord: (holding up a thick book with her picture on the cover) Yes, I have it right here. (flipping through it) How to Rule Equestria, by Nopony McPretendsmith.
(As she leans in to peer at the pages, he slams the thing shut and avoids crushing her nose by the slimmest of margins. Now Luna floats up a copy of the friendship journal that Twilight and company published in “Fame and Misfortune.” On the next line, she projects it down to Twilight and the camera cuts to the latter, who takes it in hoof.)
Luna: The friendship journal you wrote yourselves is a better guide than any we could provide.
(The high-strung Princess clasps it to her chest and launches into a bout of hyperventilation.)
Celestia: We have the utmost confidence in you.
Luna: And we hope you’ll have the same in yourself.
(These reassurances do nothing whatever to calm Twilight down; next she levitates up a paper bag and breathes madly into it.)
Discord: Oh, I’m absolutely certain she does.
(Wipe to a close-up of a pair of closed doors within the Castle of Friendship; Twilight stands up into view, having ditched the bag and journal and worked herself around to an especially foul frame of mind.)
Twilight: I am not confident about this at all!
(She paces away; cut to a long overhead shot of the area—the throne room. Spike and the other five mares are here, as is Discord, lounging on the bare central table. He has dispelled the book he showed off in the Canterlot Castle throne room and is combing his beard with a fork.)
Discord: Well, that’s what I thought. I was being sarcastic before.
(A bit of hairspray is applied from a tiny can; Applejack shoots him a pointed look as she rests a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.)
Discord: What? (tossing fork/can away) This is all so predictable. Now’s the part where you all tell little Sparkle here that everything is going to be fine, but she won’t believe you. Ugh, I don’t need to be here for this.
(He creates a little rainbow with his talons during this line, then snaps himself out of the room at its end.)
Twilight: It’s just…I know I said yes, but then they said “in a few days,” and there’s still so much to figure out! It’s all happening so fast!
(Accompanied by Applejack gently pushing her to the star-marked throne and setting her on it, then Twilight pulling at her own cheeks and summoning the paper bag for a few quick breaths. As she sends it away again, Rarity approaches from the other side, levitating a glass of water.)
Twilight: I think I need some…
(A moue of surprise crosses her face as she notices the container at eye level, and she gets her hooves to it, guzzles the water, and sets the empty on the table.)
Twilight: (calmer, smiling) Okay. I’ll feel much better—
Rarity: (cocking an eyebrow) —once you make a plan?
(Right on cue, here comes Spike for a landing on the table, quill and paper ready to deploy.)
Twilight: Oh, wow! It’s like you—
Spike: —knew you were going to react this way? We did. (Rarity floats the glass away as Pinkie peeks out from behind the top of the throne.)
Pinkie: (knowingly) Classic Twilighting.
Twilight: (taken aback) “Twilighting”? You…you made me a verb? (She slumps dejectedly as Pinkie nods.)
Applejack: (patting her shoulder) It’s not a bad thing. We just know you have a…process. (Rainbow flies over to the group.)
Rainbow: Stage one—you get big news, and you’re like, “Noooo!” But then you pace, and you chart, you worry— (Fluttershy crosses to them.)
Fluttershy: It’s okay. (patting Twilight’s hoof) You go ahead and Twilight, and we’ll be here for you.
(The mare whose name has become a synonym for freaking out yanks clear of the yellow grip.)
Twilight: You’re all acting so calm, but this is a big deal. What do we do if something big happens and the Princesses aren’t there to help? (She huddles down, chin on table and hooves pressed to head. Long pause.)
Rainbow: Um…if you think about it, they literally almost never help. (Twilight sits up, floored.)
Applejack: Huh.
Pinkie: And we still always win! (rapid fire) Like when Sombra almost took back the Crystal Empire, or when Chrysalis pretended to be Cadence, or when Tirek came back and absorbed all the magic, or the other time Chrysalis tried to take over, or with Cozy Glow and the School! (Deep breath.) Am I missing anything?
(Twilight steadily shrinks in her seat under this disaster-laden tale of the tape until she is almost completely out of sight. Cut to her perspective of the table; each speaker swings into view in turn, Spike no longer carrying his writing gear.)
Rarity: Pony of Shadows.
Spike: Starlight when she was evil.
Fluttershy: Discord when he was evil.
Applejack: Do Flim and Flam count?
Rainbow: See? We’ve almost always done things without the Princesses’ help. (Side view of her and Twilight.) Which makes sense now, because it was all just training for you to take over.
(By the time she finishes, she has plunked herself next to Twilight on the throne and extended a blue foreleg to pull its original occupant chummily close.)
Spike: And it worked! I mean, if you think about it, there hasn’t been a single villain that we couldn’t defeat.
Twilight: (relieved) Phew.
(Dissolve to a slow pan through a remarkably uninviting stretch of the Everfree Forest. The weeds and spiderwebs have been accented with globs and runners of sickly green slime whose source is visible as a perforated silhouette in the distance.)
Chrysalis: One day, you’ll see. (Close-up.) I will defeat Twilight Sparkle and her friends— (Twisted little chuckle.) —and they will pay for stealing my kingdom!
(A cut to just behind her picks out the recipient of her words—a log balanced on a tree stump and etched with the face of a snarling changeling drone. The half-crazed former queen levitates up a second chunk of wood and carves a face onto its surface in like manner, then vanishes abruptly in a swirl of black flames. Her new “minion” thuds to the forest floor near a pile of others.)
(Tilt down through the earth, the camera passing a layer of blackness before entering the rocky prison of Tartarus. Two cages stand in the foreground, one occupied by a sullen-faced, horned monstrosity; much farther back is an isolated, craggy platform accessible only by a narrow, winding set of stairs. Two cages stand here, one considerably smaller than the other—holding Cozy Glow and Lord Tirek, respectively, the former imprisoned as the latter’s neighbor after her attempt to take over Equestria in “School Raze”—and Cerberus keeps watch on both. Cut to an extreme close-up of a panel as Tirek’s red hand reaches into view. The surface is covered with hash marks in groups of five, and the index finger scratches one more.)
Cozy: (from o.s., whispering) Pssst! Tirek! (Cut to frame both.)
Tirek: It is Lord Tirek. And what is it now? (Close-up of her, the camera just outside the bars.)
Cozy: (normal volume) I just want to make sure you can see my “Best Friends” rock sculpture from over there.
(Zoom out slightly to frame said structure as she points beamingly at it: a small carving of her riding on the centaur’s shoulders as he rears up. He just throws a sour look at the effort and turns back to his tally, which proves to be inscribed into the floor of his cage. Sighing tiredly at having had such an insipid cellmate dumped on him, he vanishes without warning in the same manner as Chrysalis. Cozy has the same experience a moment later, whereupon her sculpture crumbles into gravel.)
(The camera tilts down once again, passing through blackness and into a cave even deeper below the surface. Amid the foul vegetative growths and hollowly dripping water, the only illumination is a shaft of unwholesome greenish light from above. The tip of a stick draws a blue-glowing circle on the floor of this chamber, runes and inscriptions instantly appearing just within it as a concentric ring. A diameter is added, then four strokes as an inverted W, oriented so that the diameter cuts off the two lower points—or upper ones, as the case may be. Once the stick is withdrawn, the brightness of the assembly grows a notch and a clump of dark, jagged crystals erupts from its center, with tendrils of black energy whirling around its base. These last rapidly grow to fill the screen, against which two lurid green eyes open wide with no trace of pupil or iris. A curved horn kindles red above them as purple flames flare to life around their edges—the hallmarks of King Sombra as first seen six seasons earlier.)
(Zoom in slowly on the phantom features and dissolve to a different cavern, in which Tirek and then Cozy arrive in the same way they left Tartarus. Chrysalis is next to come in, puzzlement swiftly replaced by hostility. Flowing water can be heard.)
Chrysalis: Lord Tirek!
Tirek: (baffled) A changeling? (to Cozy) See? She gets it.
(The filly shoots him a nasty glance. Cut to a long shot of this cavern; Cozy/Tirek and Chrysalis are standing on ledges at opposite sides of a chamber at whose center a table is placed, holding a crystal ball that glows yellow and somewhat resembles a giant red-orange eye. Long, sweeping ramps and staircases lead from one spot to another, and the whole is situated at the shore of a subterranean lake choked with slabs of rock. A waterfall gushes behind the tableau.)
Chrysalis: (descending ramp) Chrysalis, queen of the changelings—or at least I will be, when I’m restored to my rightful place!
(A wing-assisted leap brings her to ground level as Cozy and Tirek make their way down.)
Chrysalis: Why did you summon me? (Horn glows.) What do you want?
(The display of power prompts the youngster to yell in fright and dive behind Tirek’s foreleg.)
Cozy: Oh, golly! We didn’t bring you. I thought you freed us from Tartarus.
Chrysalis: Tartarus? (powering down) Whoever pulled you from there must have been somepony very powerful indeed.
(All three are brought up short by the sound of a cackling male voice, and they turn to stare up at an elevated central platform where that black energy has begun to swirl. Armored forelegs in dark gray emerge from the miasma, which gradually clears to present the flesh-and-blood form of Sombra himself. Chrysalis and Tirek are well and truly flabbergasted by his appearance, but Cozy just looks scared and confused.)
Chrysalis: King Sombra! You have returned? (Tirek warms up a spell between his horns.) Why did you bring us here?
(In the far distance, a silhouette marked by glowing eyes and a pair of expansively curving horns appears in a shaft of light on the other side of the lake. It speaks with a deep, rough, contemptuous male voice.)
Male voice: He didn’t.
(Tirek’s spell winks out; eyes widen and turn toward the new arrival, who begins to pace toward the water. Cut to an extreme close-up of legs furred in medium blue, with darker hoof tips, stepping across the stones that span the lake. The next shot frames the body from the neck down; the tail is a very pale blue and cut short, and around the neck is a broad red collar set with rune-inscribed gold studs. The one at the throat has a ring attached, as if for securing the wearer to a post or attaching a cowbell, and a cross-strap passes over the belly from one side of the collar to the other. Cozy hunkers down behind Tirek’s leg and Sombra vacates his vantage point in a black burst as the figure strides on. Now the tops of two curving, dark blue horns can just be discerned before it stops behind the crystal ball. The front hooves slam onto the table to either side of this.)
Male voice: It was I.
(Zoom out to frame the speaker in full: a massive goat, mane cut as short as the tail and matching the bushy brows above beady red eyes with yellowed whites and slitted pupils. The horns curve back from the skull, each forming nearly a complete circle. This is Grogar.)
Grogar: (leaning forward) You may call me Grogar. (Chrysalis and Tirek gasp.)
Chrysalis: The Grogar? (Sombra appears at her side.)
Tirek: I thought you were a legend!
Sombra: I’ve heard of you!
Cozy: (hovering) Who?
(Sombra’s voice is full of pomp and carries a trace of a British accent. All four approach the table; zoom in slowly.)
Grogar: I assure you, I am very real. And you have all been brought here as part of my plan to rid Equestria of Twilight Sparkle and her friends—once and for all.
(He chuckles malevolently as the view fades to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to a dismal stretch of swamp under a diseased gray-green sky. Amid the murky waters is a moss-blanketed stone structure that vaguely resembles Grogar’s head on a massive scale. On the start of the following line, tilt down through the ground and stop on the five nefarious characters in their underground meeting place.)
Cozy: I am so sorry, but the name “Grofar”—it just doesn’t ring any bells. (Grogar leans across the table and into her face.)
Grogar: (incensed) Grogar! (She topples backwards; he crosses to stand over her.) I have been away too long if my name no longer strikes fear into the heart of one so tiny. (He pivots away; she sits up.) Perhaps a demonstration of power is in order?
(Cozy flits up onto the table to watch. The studs on his collar glow bright yellow, and he puts a hoof to the front and draws a ball of power away from it. A gentle breath sends this drifting over to Tirek, who eagerly cradles it in his palms and wastes no time in devouring it. A blinding white glow briefly envelops his entire body and fades to show him having grown considerably in both size and muscle mass; he flexes his biceps and kisses one, impressed with the result.)
Tirek: Grogar is ancient and extremely powerful. The land that would become Equestria was a mere collection of farms and pastures until he declared himself emperor of all he saw. I remember hearing tales of his tyranny when I was young.
Sombra: I have also heard of the first emperor of Equestria—the Father of Monsters.
Grogar: I gave life to the foulest of creatures and allowed them to run wild, taking what they wanted and destroying the rest.
(During this line, the camera tilts down from him to the crystal ball between his hooves and zooms in, putting him out of view. The pupil-like bar at its heart expands to blacken the entire surface, which resolves into silhouettes of fearsome beasts that consume those of frightened ponies and then smear together into one inky spiral. For the next line, this forms into a phantasm of the old goat menacing a cluster of huts, which grows to fill the sphere except for one last flicker of white that holds out for a time before vanishing.)
Grogar: (from o.s.) My reign was a glorious, fear-soaked epoch of darkness in Equestria.
Chrysalis: (from o.s.) Ha!
(Grogar looks up with surprise; cut to Chrysalis and Sombra.)
Chrysalis: Until Gusty the Great rose up and banished you.
Grogar: That fool believed taking my bell would defeat me, but she only weakened me temporarily. (Cozy pops up to hover by Tirek.)
Cozy: Um, Tirek is really old. (to Tirek; he scowls) No offense, you look great. (to Grogar) But if he knew about you when he was young, we have super-different ideas about what “temporarily” means.
Grogar: Silence!
(The force of that word pushes the filly back into the black chest, disordering its fur so that she has to push the strands out of her eyes for a clear view. The ball has resumed its original appearance.)
Grogar: (pacing up ramp to central platform) I’ve spent millennia gathering power, biding my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to seize control of Equestria— (glaring down at others) —and watching all of you. I’ve seen each of your humiliating defeats at the hooves of six puny ponies. And do you know why they’ve always bested you?
(Cut to Sombra, who opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Chrysalis’s lean in.)
Chrysalis: Because they cheat! (Pan quickly to Tirek.)
Tirek: Because they are annoyingly lucky! (To Cozy.)
Cozy: I’m just a kid, so…
Grogar: It is because they work together. Where one is weak, another is strong, and thus unified, they are a formidable force. But we shall use their own strategy to defeat them.
Chrysalis: What are you suggesting? (He jumps down onto the table and leans hard into her face.)
Grogar: I suggest nothing. (stomping for emphasis; all back off) I demand that you join me, and together, Equestria will be ours.
Sombra: I don’t do “ours,” I only do “mine”! (He swirls onto the table.) I will take back the Crystal Empire on my own, and I will destroy anypony who gets in my way!
Grogar: (mockingly) Such confidence. Go. (Hop down.) Try to take back your kingdom. I shall send you there myself. If you prevail, you may keep it. But when you fail, you will submit to me.
Sombra: And if I refuse this deal?
Grogar: Then I shall return you to the darkness from which you were summoned.
Sombra: Fine! But this is a waste of time, as I will crush those who defy me.
(Cut to Grogar, whose patience quickly wears thin; he warms up his collar and throws a burst of power in the deposed dictator’s direction.)
Sombra: (from o.s.) I will defeat all who get in my way. (Back to him.) I—
(He gets no farther before the toss wreathes him in yellow and smears him out of the place. On the start of the next line, cut to frame the remaining four, Grogar stalking away.)
Grogar: I advise the rest of you to prepare to work together.
Cozy: (slyly, to Chrysalis/Tirek) Well, working together sounds an awful lot like making friends, so… (brightly, sitting on Tirek’s shoulder) …you two are in luck, because I know all about that!
(One meaty red forefinger flicks her away without a word. Dissolve to the exterior of the School of Friendship during the day and zoom in slowly to the sound of knocking. A cut to one corridor reveals the cause to be Starlight Glimmer seeking entry at the closed doors of Twilight’s office.)
Starlight: (voice raised) Twi? You in here?
(A bit of magic on one knob opens the way; she continues at normal volume, the camera cutting to just inside on the next line as she steps in.)
Starlight: With the School closed for the summer, I didn’t think anypony would be here.
(She is just in time to take a checklist to the face, thrown by the headmare herself—seated at her desk amid a spaghetti tangle of long parchments closely covered with writing.)
Twilight: (frantically shifting quill and documents) So much to do, not enough time—no! I already did that—wait! No! I didn’t! (Groan.) Not enough time! (Spike hovers into view to face Starlight.)
Spike: Help! She’s spiraling! We’re at the “my plan needs a plan” stage of a total Twilight meltdown!
(A glance past the little guy is all Starlight needs to apprise herself of the situation.)
Starlight: (hushed, winking) Ohhh! Got it.
(She enters the office wearing a cocked-eyebrow smirk, but is all sweetness as she leans across the desk.)
Starlight: Twilight…
Twilight: (still working) Did I write down “eliminate redundant lists” on my School of Friendship to-do list or my personal to-do list?
(Her smile gone, the guidance counselor circles to face her boss point-blank.)
Starlight: (slamming front hooves on desk) Twilight!
(A yell of fright, and Twilight is dropping the quill and pages and grabbing Starlight’s cheeks with a shaky smile.)
Twilight: Starlight! Oh, good, you’re here! I need to talk to you.
Starlight: (unnerved) Okay…
Twilight: (letting go, checking lists) Hang on. I had “talk to Starlight” written down on one of these. (Her field brings others to herself.) Just let me find it so I can cross it off. (Preoccupied mumbling.)
Starlight: Wow. You are Twilighting hard.
Twilight: You say “Twilighting” too? (The papers are shoved away in a fit of pique.) Well, excuuuuuse me! This is the first time I’ve ever been asked to run a whole kingdom! (Cut to Starlight.)
Starlight: (hastily, smiling) Uh, you’re right, you’re right. (Laugh.) So, what did you want to talk to me about? (Zoom out to frame Twilight on the start of the next line.)
Twilight: (smiling, checking a page) Ah, here it is. I wrote it down. (reading quickly) “Starlight, you have blossomed into one of the strongest, smartest, most caring ponies I know, and I can’t think of anypony better to leave in charge of my castle and the School of Friendship. So what do you think?”
(She offers a cross-eyed, unhinged grin that utterly fails to put Starlight at ease.)
Starlight: What?! You want me to take care of the Castle and run the School?
Twilight: (calmer, but hesitantly) Yes?
Starlight: Uh…I can’t. I’m not ready! Remember what happened the last time you left me in charge? (She pitches onto her belly.) And now you want me to do it permanently?!? What if I don’t do the right things? (A brief fit of hyperventilation.) What if—
(She is referring to the events of “School Raze.”)
Twilight: (leaving desk, levitating Starlight back) Starlight, get a hold of yourself! You’ve risen to every challenge you’ve ever faced. (touching her chest) You can do anything you put your mind to. You’ve got this.
Starlight: (smiling) Heh! And so do you. See what I did there? You just said everything you need to hear.
Twilight: Ha-ha-ha, nice try. (sitting behind desk) But running a school and running a country are two very different things. (magically lifting pages, slowly freaking out) Now if you don’t mind, I have seven thousand, four hundred and thirty-two more things to take care of before I become the new ruler of Equestria!
(Lungs cycle in a lively ragtime as a mildly disgruntled Spike flies a paper bag over so her field can position it in front of her mouth.)
Spike: (resignedly, to Starlight) It was a valiant effort.
(The unicorn claps a hoof to her forehead as the weight of his words sinks in. Dissolve to a long shot of the Crystal Empire, seen from the boundary between its temperate clime and the harsh snowscape surrounding it on all sides. It is daytime here, but black clouds are seeping in all too rapidly; cut to one street in the realm proper, filled with screaming and fleeing crystal ponies. The sky has already gone a scabrous brown—what can still be seen of it through the advancing clouds, that is—and jags of hideous dark crystals begin to stab up through the lustrous roadbed. One filly stumbles and falls just short of her family’s doorstep; by the time she can turn her head to look behind herself, Sombra has taken shape to grin savagely down at her. Mother and father hurry to scoop her up, but he lets his eyes burn green/violet as in Act One and projects images of them toward the three. All six sockets fill with pale green light that blots out irises and pupils, the faces turning slack and emotionless. Before Sombra can visit any further torment on the family, a spear is flung into view from somewhere behind, scoring a near miss. He glares over his shoulder, his eyes returning to normal, and finds two armored Royal Guard pegasus stallions bearing down on him at full speed; one has a spear in his teeth, while the other does not, pegging him as the thrower. Two more are coming in from the other end of the block, one armed.)
(Sombra holds his position and summons up three crystalline monoliths; one lifts him several feet off the ground, while the emergence of the other two throws the four guards off their hooves. Sick purple magic bubbles from his horn as he conjures an armored helmet on one upraised hoof—the type he used to brainwash his subjects into fighting for him during Part One of “The Cutie Re-Mark.” One guard pulls himself up, woozy and with his helmet gone, and gets the awful headgear slapped onto his noggin before he can react. The slitted eyes glow an evil green, and soon he has several guards kitted out and is leading them on a march toward the Crystal Castle. He raises one black slab after another in front of himself, forming a rough staircase that leads him up toward one of the entrances above street level, as the conscripts continue their advance to either side. Cut to a corridor within; two closed double doors are bashed open from the other side, and here come Shining Armor and two guards at a gallop. The white unicorn is wearing his armor.)
Shining: The guards said Sombra’s breached the castle!
(Cut to Princess Cadence, seated on her throne and frantically scrawling a message using a levitated quill and scroll—the trio have barged into the throne room.)
Cadence: Hurry, Twilight. We need you.
(The quill is tucked away under a wing, the message is rolled up, and a shot of magic turns it into a wisp of pink smoke that lances out the nearest window. Cadence flaps down to meet Shining at the base of the throne.)
Cadence: Do you have Flurry Heart?
Shining: I thought you had her!
(Both parents gasp at the realization that they have left their daughter alone. Cut to their perspective, sprinting toward a pair of closed doors and magically throwing them open to show the nursery beyond. Sombra has made his way in here and exerted his field to lift Flurry Heart from her cradle.)
Flurry: Mama!
(Cut to Cadence and Shining, both uttering terrified gasps. Cadence grits her teeth and prepares a spell, but Shining throws out a foreleg to back her down in the face of the usurper’s madly triumphant grin.)
Cadence: (icily) You won’t get away with this.
Sombra: (floating Flurry onto his back) Oh, but I already have.
(An affectionate poke at the little white nose spurs Flurry to try and bite off the end of his hoof, but he just laughs exultantly. Cut to a close-up of the Crystal Heart being impaled on two dark gray crystal outcroppings, rather than spinning between its usual upper/lower anchor points in the city square under the Crystal Castle. It sends out a pulse of dark light, cracks spreading from the points of contact.)
Sombra: (from o.s.) With the Crystal Heart now in my possession…
(Long shot of the throne, zooming out slowly. He has placed himself comfortably in the seat of power, two of his guards stand to either side—now fully armored as in “The Cutie Re-Mark”—and the jagged protrusions have sprouted from the floor and are poking through one window. The supports for the Heart are the pinnacles of the two largest formations, which curve over the throne from either side to form a rough arch with it as the capstone.)
Sombra: …there’s nothing to stop me from ruling the Crystal Empire!
(The royal family is led in—a steel muzzle clamped onto each face, heavy chains linking one to the next in a line, unadulterated fury blazing in all six eyes. The guards escorting them carry their spears and wear Sombra’s helmets, but are still clad in the rest of their standard Royal Guard armor. Shining, on the other hand, has been stripped of his.)
Sombra: Kneel before Sombra!
(Suddenly finding themselves at spear-point, the two adults reluctantly do as ordered—but Flurry stays upright and glares daggers over her muzzle. Sombra relaxes onto his throne with a contented sigh.)
Sombra: Long live the king.
(The scene fades to black except for his eyes, which go pure green before fading out a moment later.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to an overhead shot of the throne room in the Castle of Friendship, the magical map now set up on the central table. Zoom in slowly as Twilight paces the floor; the doors are closed, but fly open to put her friends, Starlight, and Spike in the corridor just outside. Cut to the eight.)
Twilight: Thanks for coming so quickly.
(Discord teleports in among the bunch to send them yelling and tumbling in all directions.)
Discord: Sure thing. (Close-up.) But if you’re going to be the ruler of Equestria, you may want to work on your penmanship.
(He conjures up an opened scroll in midair and produces a pair of large square eyeglasses.)
Discord: This looks like it says… (reading, donning glasses to magnify his pupils) …“Cadence sent an emergency message: ‘Sombra’s back, and he’s taking over the Crystal Empire.’ ” (Twilight flies up to him.)
Twilight: That’s exactly what it says.
Rarity: (from o.s.) But— (The group again; those on the floor start to stand.) —but how is that possible? I-I thought the Crystal Heart had dispelled him into the ether!
Twilight: I have no idea! But he’s back, and it’s up to us to save the Empire and my family.
Fluttershy: Shouldn’t somepony tell Celestia and Luna?
Discord: (bending down to her; glasses/scroll gone) Ooh, good point! (pulling her, Pinkie, Spike close) One of us should probably loop in the real rulers of Equestria.
Twilight: (turning to map; cut to her) No. If we’re going to run Equestria, we’ll need to handle things like this on our own.
(Applejack, Rarity, and Starlight, in view behind her, let their eyes widen at the winged unicorn’s steely tone.)
Discord: (from o.s, mildly awestruck) Oh, Twilight! (Cut to him.) Could this mean that you finally have the confidence to ascend the throne like the Princesses believe you can?
(As he speaks, he creates a miniature effigy of her and holds it in his talons: narrowed, white-glowing eyes, seated on a rough stone throne studded with deadly sharp projections, the whole surrounded by a corona of pale blue fire. A curl of the fist as he finishes his question, and it is gone again.)
Twilight: (grinning tentatively) Maybe? (She flies up to his level.) Unless you’d consider taking care of Sombra for us?
(Now the grin is half-endearing, half-entreating, and accompanied by a pair of big shiny purple eyes. The expression is swiftly copied to varying degrees by the other six mares and Spike.)
Discord: (hastily, pushing Twilight back) Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. You’re absolutely right. You need to learn how to handle these things on your own.
(On this line, he shakes her foreleg vigorously, plunks a mortarboard cap onto the royal brain bucket, and shoves a gold “#1” trophy and an oversized check for ten thousand bits into her hooves.)
Discord: Ta-ta!
(He executes an exit by pulling a length of invisible cloth down over himself, which causes him to vanish from sight.)
Applejack: Handlin’ things on our own is all well and good, but…last time, we defeated Sombra with the Crystal Heart.
Spike: What if he has it already? How are we gonna stop him?
(Twilight floats the mortarboard away and lets the trophy and check drop. After a bit of deep thought, she gasps as an idea comes to her; the purple eyes go to the map, then her own cutie mark, then the rest of the gang.)
Twilight: With the Elements of Harmony! (Drop out of her hover.) With those, we can defeat anypony, even Sombra!
(The intangible cloth is pushed aside behind the group as if it were a curtain; Discord peeks out from beyond this, now wearing a shower cap and holding a soapy scrub brush.)
Discord: Ah, no, no, no, no. (scrubbing back of neck) You didn’t need the Elements the last time you defeated Sombra. And I’m not sure that using them still counts as handling things on your own.
(He makes quotation marks with his talons and lion-paw digits to point up his last five words.)
Twilight: (irked) My family is in danger. I’m not taking any chances. (Rainbow hovers up to Discord.)
Rainbow: She’s got a point.
Discord: Ugh, fine!
(He pulls the “shower curtain” back into place and is gone.)
Pinkie: What’s his problem?
Twilight: Starlight, can you stay here and take care of the School?
Starlight: I’ve gotcha covered.
(Her power lifts a copy of the weighty rulebook Twilight authored to govern School operations. Dissolve to the Tree of Harmony in its cavern below the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters and zoom in slowly as Twilight teleports in with her friends and Spike. A bit of carefully applied arcane energy separates the five visible Element jewels from the ends of the branches in which they are embedded and opens the star-shaped cavity in the trunk to release Magic. These float down to their bearers, necklaces and tiara winking into place at the appropriate spots on their bodies to receive them, and all seven get moving again and disappear in another mass teleport.)
(Wipe to an extreme close-up of a bunch of grapes being held aloft in a crackle of Sombra’s dark magic. One comes free and drifts lazily down to be chewed up in the fanged mouth, after which the camera cuts to a longer shot of the Crystal Castle throne room. One crystal pony has been pressed into service to hold up a platter of exotic fruits by the throne for him to enjoy where he sits, while another is fanning him. His eyes have returned to normal. Off to one side, a ring of spikes has grown from the floor to serve as a holding pen for Cadence, Shining, and Flurry, none of whom are wearing their muzzles and chains anymore. Pan slowly across the room, then cut to the family’s perspective from within the ring. A blast of Flurry’s sunny yellow magic threads between the spikes and zeroes in on Sombra, only to dissipate on contact with an invisible shield. Head-on view of them, a curl of smoke dissipating from the tip of Flurry’s horn as all direct murderous glares toward their jailer. Sombra maneuvers the grapes away.)
Sombra: It’s cute that you think that will do anything.
Cadence: It might not— (pointing across room) —but they will!
(Red eyes swivel to follow her gesture; pan quickly in that direction and stop on the six mares from Ponyville charging in.)
Pinkie: (rearing up happily) Cavalry’s here! (They sprint toward Sombra, who chuckles richly.)
Sombra: How can I be surprised when I’m waiting to show all of you your greatest fear?
(As with the crystal pony family he menaced in the street during Act Two, he lets his eyes burn green/purple and sends out a copy of them. All six stop short, voicing a unison gasp as they are lifted off the floor in a spatter of black sparks and the ghostly eyes grow to encompass all of them before fading away. Twilight is the first to open hers, revealing that they have gone this same color with pupils/irises gone, and the camera zooms in on one until it fills the screen.)
(Fade quickly to black, then in to a close-up of her standing bewildered against a dark field. Her eyes are her own again, and her tiara is gone. Zoom out slowly to put the others, Cadence, Shining, Flurry, and Spike in the fore—all caught under Sombra’s spell and not moving one whit as his helmets settle onto their heads. Twilight can only get out a scared little moan as two more featureless green eyes bore into her from the void, purple flames kindling at the edges. These separate to form two complete pairs, and the figures of Celestia and Luna—many times normal size—fade into view to incorporate the eyes into two impassive regal faces. Their voices reverberate across the no-space.)
Celestia: Oh, Twilight, how disappointing.
Luna: Equestria was in your care, and you let it be destroyed!
(A split-second flash of white transforms them into Daybreaker and Nightmare Moon, respectively. Recall that Daybreaker was the crazed alter ego that Starlight dreamed Celestia could become in “A Royal Problem.” Cut to a close-up of the young Princess, who would be scared out of her socks by this point if she were wearing any, and zoom in slowly before dissolving to her in the here and now. The zoom continues.)
Sombra: (from o.s.) You should all surrender! (He paces toward the six, all under his influence.) Nothing can defeat your own fears!
(Twilight’s tiara would beg to differ, judging from the intense flare of light kindling within its jewel. She forces her eyes open, letting them burn full white with no trace of his magic, and ribbons of color-coded energy snake from the tiara and thread among one necklace after the other. The five wearers are swiftly cleansed of the corrupting spell, their eyes going white.)
Twilight: We didn’t need to defeat them. We just needed to face them long enough to distract you!
(Sombra throws an uncomprehending glance toward the royals’ prison and is stunned to find Spike now on the scene, blowing a stream of fire over one patch of the barricade. Cadence hits it from inside like a four-legged wrecking ball, shattering it and flying up to lift the Heart clear of its unwholesome supports. Her next move is to dive out a window, towing the artifact in her aura.)
Sombra: NOOOOO!!
(There follows a brief tug-of-war between her power and his, but a blast from Flurry spooks him into letting go as it scorches the sill, missing him by inches. He whirls to glare in her direction with a feral snarl, only to find the baby now airborne and sending the guards into a full retreat with shot after shot. Shining steps out from the ruined stockade.)
Shining: (mockingly) It’s cute that you think that’ll do anything.
(Cut to the square below the Crystal Castle. Cadence flies the Heart into position between its usual anchors and zaps it to repair the cracks marring its surface. Fully restored, it spins up to full speed and sends out an intense pulse that radiates down every street; spirits lift, the clouds clear, and the distressing brown sky instantly goes a happy blue. Inside the throne room, the intruding crystals are erased from existence, the enslaved ponies lose their helmets, and the two on fan/fruit duty drop their gear. All eyes lock onto a snarling Sombra, glaring at him with enough super-concentrated hostility to burn a hole through six yards of solid granite.)
Sombra: You may have won the battle— (rearing up, stomping) —but I shall win the war!
(Twilight meets this taunt by firing a rainbow beam—striped in the six mares’ coat colors—from her tiara to engulf him. The dastardly unicorn barely has time to start a bellowing scream before he fades to a black silhouette, then disintegrates into wisps of vapor. When the light show fades, no trace is left of him except a column of dark smoke rising from a scorched spot on the floor. A long, stunned silence hangs in the room before Spike breaks it.)
Spike: Yeah!
[Animation goof: The remains of the spiked prison wall have returned.]
(He adds a celebratory whoop as the mares touch down and the power coursing through the Elements fades away to leave their eyes as they were.)
Rainbow: (looping around Twilight) We totally just wiped the castle with that guy!
(Flurry flies into her aunt’s embrace, followed closely by Spike on foot. Here comes Cadence back in through a window, horn aglow and ready for a scrap; it takes her a moment to realize that the danger is past and relax, and she and Shining gather in around Twilight.)
Shining: Thanks, Twilie. (They join in the hug.)
Pinkie: But that was fun!
Applejack: And easy.
Rarity: As magical battles go, that was a cake walk. (Pinkie pops up between her and Applejack.)
Pinkie: (rubbing front hooves together) Mmmm, cake walk.
(Before either can react, she has jammed a cake onto each rear hoof and is sashaying backwards across the throne room on those two appendages. The other mares laugh at her antics as she twirls and strikes a pose.)
Twilight: We did handle this pretty well, on our own.
Spike: Does this mean—?
Twilight: I still don’t feel like I’m one hundred percent ready, but will I ever?
Applejack: (lifting her chin) Knowing you, nope.
Twilight: I have you guys, and we have the Elements. And together, we’ve never failed. We’ll be okay.
(Her fellow world-savers and her number-one assistant gather in for a whooping, cheering embrace. Dissolve to a close-up of one branch on the Tree as the Loyalty gem is floated back onto it; the same is done to Laughter, then Magic is returned to its trunk cavity and sealed away. Zoom out to frame Twilight looking on within the Tree’s cavern; she is no longer wearing her tiara, and all the gems are back where they belong. The others will have shed their necklaces when seen next, and Pinkie will no longer be wearing cakes as shoes.)
Twilight: Once again, Equestria is safe. (They head out; Spike is not with them.)
Fluttershy: What should we do to celebrate?
Pinkie: I vote for a cake walk!
(As they amble away, the camera pans back toward the tree and tilts up slightly to stop on one jeweled stretch of the ceiling. A spear of dark crystals punches through, a stream of dense gray smoke issuing in around its base and quickly swirling to fill and black out the screen. Just as when Sombra was summoned to Grogar’s lair near the end of Act One, his purple-flamed green eyes and red horn appear within the inky gloom. The manifestation is accompanied by a reverberating basso chuckle and a tremor that shakes the entire cavern, dislodges showers of rock fragments, and stops the mares dead in their tracks.)
Applejack: What’s goin’ on?
Twilight: I don’t know!
(More growths pierce the walls and ceiling, smashing at the luminous branches, and a final strike through the floor shatters the Tree into a mass of glimmering shards. The impact hurls the Elements away so that they smash to pieces on the cavern floor; the mares voice a collective gasp of pure horror as the smoke swirls down to them and resolves into Sombra. Zoom in on him, letting go with a chuckle that turns into a full exultant laugh, then cut to a “To be continued…” title card and snap to black.)
Continued in Part Two
THE BEGINNING OF THE END—PART TWO
Written by Joanna Lewis, Kristine Songco
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: snap to a “Previously on My Little Pony” title card, then cut to a slow pan through the throne room of Canterlot Castle—Part One, prologue. Twilight Sparkle, her friends, and Spike have gathered for a conference with Princesses Celestia and Luna.)
Celestia: It is time for us… (firmly) …to retire!
Twilight: And you want me to take your place?
(The seven out-of-towners pile up hooves and claw, Twilight adding hers last.)
Luna: (voice over) With the help of your friends, of course.
(The end of Act One: Cozy Glow, Chrysalis, and Lord Tirek, in Grogar’s cavernous underground stronghold, are caught out by his arrival in the distance.)
Grogar: (voice over) You may call me… (Close-up; he leans over the central table to address them.) …Grogar. (pacing; King Sombra vacates his elevated post to join the others) Together, Equestria will be ours.
(The Crystal Empire under a diseased brown sky, Act Two: Sombra assaults the Royal Guard ponies trying to apprehend him and conjures up one of his brainwashing helmets.)
Sombra: (voice over) I will take back the Crystal Empire on my own!
(The throne room of the Crystal Castle: he has redesigned it and made himself at home, the Crystal Heart impaled overhead. Princess Cadence and her family are led in, chained and muzzled.)
Spike: (voice over) How are we gonna stop him?
(The cavern of the Tree of Harmony, Act Three: the Element jewels embed themselves in their necklace/tiara settings and place themselves on their bearers.)
Twilight: (voice over) With the Elements of Harmony!
(The Crystal Castle throne room: the six float in midair, eyes and Elements fully energized to fire a pastel rainbow beam straight and true toward Sombra.)
Twilight: (voice over) With those, we can defeat anypony!
(The magical onslaught wipes him away. Cut to the mares sans Elements and leaving the Tree cavern, unaccompanied by Spike. None notice the presence of Sombra’s black haze above the Tree until the whole place starts doing the mambo; a huge, jagged crystal smashes up through the floor to shatter the Tree and dislodge the Elements so that they burst to pieces on impact. Sombra uncorks a long, wild laugh of triumph, the camera zooming in on him, and the view snaps to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to a long shot of the mineral-arboreal devastation and zoom in slowly. Sombra’s laughter rises a notch in both volume and madness as the camera pans slowly across the spectators’ thunderstruck visages.)
Rainbow Dash: What just happened?!?
Fluttershy: The Tree of Harmony can’t really be gone, can it?
Twilight: It can’t be!
Sombra: But it is! (pacing) You thought you’d defeated me, but you led me right to the source of your power. (The whites of his eyes briefly go green and spill purple flame.) Now that it’s destroyed, nothing can stop me!
(Twilight floats up two fragments from the scatter of smashed Elements and tries to fit them together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Quickly giving the endeavor up as futile, she lets the pieces drop and collapses to her haunches.)
Twilight: He’s right. With the Elements gone, I don’t know how we can defeat him!
Rainbow: Then we’ll just have to beat him the old-fashioned way!
(Five mares kick wings and hooves into gear to take the battle to their foe, but their far-from-fearless leader keeps her seat and has another halfhearted go at reassembling whatever Element shards she can scoop up. The set of her eyes, though, proves that she knows this a lost cause even before the first click of stone on stone. Sombra lets one rip from his horn, causing more deadly sharp spires to erupt from the cavern floor. Rainbow’s airborne charge is stopped short, then Rarity’s headlong rush, but Twilight barely budges even as a wall grows up behind her. Only the realization that all six have been hemmed in brings her upright and gets her blood boiling; she takes a shot at one massive needle but cannot even scratch it. A second blast brings the same result, and a third, sustained beam generates a pulse of feedback strong enough to force her to cut it off.)
Sombra: (pacing) Ha! You’re no match for me! I will finally rule the Crystal Empire! (Gasp, then a cruel smile.) Wait! With you out of the way— (peeking in through a gap) —I will rule all of Equestria! (He moves on.)
Twilight: No!
Sombra: (now o.s.) Oh, yes. (Cut to him.) And I think I know exactly where I’ll start.
Applejack: (viciously) Don’t you dare say it!
Sombra: Your sweet little hometown.
Rarity: (stomping) You leave Ponyville alone!
Sombra: Or what? (eyes flaring green/purple) Without your Elements, it would be so easy to control you.
(Inside the enclosure, clawed hands made of black vapor sneak in and poise themselves to snatch at the six, who scream and cower into each other.)
Sombra: (from o.s.) But there’s no point. (The hands retract; back to him, eyes normal.) My conquering Ponyville is already your greatest fear.
(Twilight sends her most venomous scowl his way; he backs off with an oily chuckle, which blooms into a full-throated laugh as he dematerializes into smoke.)
All six: NO!! (He streaks away; cut to them inside.)
Fluttershy: (hyperventilating) What do we do?
Twilight: I don’t know. The Tree of Harmony grew the Elements. It kept the Everfree Forest under control. And now it’s gone. Sombra will take over Equestria, and it’s all my fault! I knew I wasn’t ready to take the Princesses’ place, but I never thought I’d mess up this badly!
(She slumps on her hooves as all but Pinkie Pie gather in, Applejack resting a gentle hoof on the lowered head. The eyes of these four turn to the pink goofball, putting her on the spot when the camera cuts to her.)
Pinkie: What are you looking at me for? (Rainbow flies over and grabs her cheeks.)
Rainbow: This is usually when you say something funny to lift our spirits.
Pinkie: (head drooping) Sorry. Nothing about this is funny to me.
(A sob from the o.s. Rarity; cut to her and Applejack, the unicorn’s big blue eyes filling with tears.)
Rarity: (sobbing) I’m sorry. I’m trying to be strong, but I just can’t bear to think about poor Sweetie Belle under the spell of that monster!
(The earth pony puts a hoof to one white shoulder as if to give a bit of strength.)
Pinkie: (plopping onto haunches) Or those sweet little Cake twins.
Rainbow: Or Spike, or Starlight.
Fluttershy: (frightened) Or Angel, or anypony forced to do that monster’s bidding!
(As she says this, Twilight’s eyebrows lower with fresh resolve and she paces o.s., gobbets of dirt flying back into view to splatter against Applejack’s hat.)
Applejack: What the—? Twilight… (She shakes herself clean.) …what are you doin’?
(The answer, when the camera cuts to the violet Princess, is “trying to dig her way out.”)
Twilight: We can’t just stay here! (straightening up) I don’t have a plan, a-and I don’t know what I’m gonna do once we get out. But we can’t just sit here and let Sombra make slaves of everypony we love! (Rainbow rises to a hover.)
Rainbow: Uh, let me help. I’m faster.
(She darts across to the newly opened excavation, and both hunker down to start moving some earth. Pinkie is by their side in short order.)
Pinkie: I like digging!
(Dropping to her haunches, she winds up her forelock and lets it go to spin like Equestria’s fluffiest drill bit. She rises to all fours for only as long as it takes to topple headfirst into the hole, dirt and clods flying so fast and thick that both Twilight and Rainbow have to cover their faces. Once she has sunk completely out of sight, Fluttershy trots over to the pair.)
Fluttershy: I’ve been known to get my hooves dirty. (All three hop to it as Applejack steps up.)
Applejack: Move over, y’all! (She joins the effort.)
Rarity: (trotting across) Normally I wouldn’t dream of digging, but right now… (savagely, shoving others aside) …show me the muddy!
(Now she takes the lead, attacking the earth with a speed that would make Pinkie sit up and take notice, and the other four plunge in after her. Cut to another patch of the cavern floor, which starts to bulge and distend with the underground activity, and zoom out as a broad fissure bursts open in a hail of dirt and rock chunks. The prime mover is Pinkie, who has surfaced beyond the confines of the prison Sombra erected; she lets both her forelock and her dizzy eyes spin to a stop, then shakes her head clear as the other five put theirs up. Smiles and grins pass from face to face—one successful escape in the books.)
(Dissolve to a hilltop overlooking the Sweet Apple Acres orchards as the mares fly/gallop onto it and away from the camera. The sky here has gone the same unhealthy brown as that seen in the Crystal Empire during Sombra’s takeover in Part One. Pan slightly to show them heading straight for Ponyville proper, already pocked here and there with eruptions of Sombra’s favorite mineral-based hazards. They skid to a stop in one street, gasping in fright, and the camera pans ahead of them down the block to frame Bon Bon and Carrot Top plodding emotionlessly along the street. Their colors are slightly faded, and their eyes have gone the same pallid, featureless, glowing green that Sombra inflicted on the crystal pony family he attacked in Part One, Act Two. The six heroes are further poleaxed to spot a similarly afflicted Mayor Mare and…)
Applejack: Apple Bloom! (She races ahead to intercept.) It’s me! (Drop to haunches; lift the washed-out yellow chin.) Look at me, sugar cube!
(Bloom pulls free and continues her monotonous advance as the others race up to Applejack.)
Applejack: (as Twilight helps her up) Twilight, you gotta free her! Please!
(The magic ace sprints ahead and plants herself in Bloom’s path with a wing-assisted leap. Her horn kindles up to an intensity just short of “inferno,” and the point is brought down to within a fraction of an inch of the red-maned forehead. Sparks pop and sizzle wildly like a fireworks factory about to blow its own roof off, the blank eyes pop wide—and then Twilight is flung away in a sudden backlash and Bloom starts walking again. The adult mare lands in a heap.)
Twilight: I-I can’t! (She stands up.) Without the Elements, my magic isn’t strong enough to stop Sombra’s!
(The problems are compounded by the passing of Starlight Glimmer and Spike, both having fallen into the despot’s power.)
Twilight: Spike! (She hustles ahead to cut off Starlight’s path.) Spike, where are you going? Starlight?
Starlight: (monotone, walking again) We must lay siege to Canterlot.
Twilight: No! Snap out of it, you two!
(A look ahead, and she has seen many other hypnotized ponies going their way.)
Twilight: You’re stronger than his magic!
Rarity: (from o.s.) Sweetie Belle, please stop!
(Up the way, the elegant unicorn has found her younger sister among the slow-moving tide of brainwashed equines. She drops to her haunches as Twilight approaches.)
Rarity: I can’t get her to stop! (Huddle on belly, hooves to head.) I can’t get her—
Twilight: None of us can. (hugging her) We can’t reach them.
(An earsplitting scream from the o.s. Pinkie rips the air and prods the other five into a fear-propelled race to the source. Cut to Sugarcube Corner, now as heavily studded with the treacherous crystal extensions as the street around it. The party lover has thrown herself at the hind legs of Mr. and Mrs. Cake in a hopeless attempt to dissuade them from obeying the will that has taken hold of their minds. The two adults are pulling a cart loaded with their children Pound and Pumpkin, also enthralled, and a most unappetizing eight-tiered cake—sloppily constructed, studded with crags, and frosted in dripping globs of green and black. As Twilight and the others reach the scene, Pinkie loses her grip and is left lying in the middle of the road.)
Pinkie: Uh…
(She rises to her haunches, working up a weak sob, then gets upright and wheels toward her friends.)
Pinkie: (frantically, rising to hind legs) He made them bake a black licorice fruitcake that says “Congratulations to Our Favorite Supreme Emperor King Sombra” in green frosting! IT’S THE UGLIEST CAKE I’VE EVER SEEN!!
(She falls against Rainbow’s chest, crying her eyes out at this unforgivable transgression against all things dessert-based. Both Fluttershy and the blue pegasus drop to their haunches to console her as Twilight paces worriedly.)
Rainbow: Twilight, this is bad! Like, really bad!
Fluttershy: (voice breaking) I’ve never been so sad in my whole life! (Pinkie gets up.)
Twilight: I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to free them, but I don’t know how to stop Sombra! (Close-up.) Everypony was so sure I’d do such a great job! Well, this is exactly what I was afraid of! Could anything else possibly go wrong?
Pinkie: (from o.s.) Well… (Cut to her, eyes slowly widening in panic.) …with the Tree of Harmony gone, the Everfree Forest could grow out of control and threaten the town!
Rarity: Darling, that’s oddly specific.
(She finds herself being seized by the face and turned bodily to look in the direction on which Pinkie has fixated. Cut to a long overhead shot that frames Ponyville and the nearest portion of the Everfree Forest; thick, tangled vines have begun to creep toward the town from the wilderness. The mares utter a unison gasp of mingled fright and disbelief, and the view snaps to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to the same Ponyville/Everfree long shot, the vines continuing to snake and thicken. Cut to one particular tree and zoom out quickly to frame it between two buildings at the edge of town, with Fluttershy and Rainbow watching it from the fore. The timid mare gasps before the view shifts to frame all six.)
Twilight: Even if we figure out how to defeat Sombra and bring everypony back to Ponyville, if we don’t stop the forest, there won’t be a Ponyville to come back to!
(Rainbow launches into a rainbow-striped U-turn and is at a florist’s stall in a blink. A fast look over the wares, a moment’s rummaging, and she has come up with a load of assorted gardening implements. She peels out as quickly as she arrived; cut to the others, who look up at the sound of her throat-clearing, and tilt up slightly as she descends with the goods and a smile. The lot is dumped to the street, and the items are lifted one by one—hedge-clipping shears for Applejack and Fluttershy, a trowel for Rarity, a rake for Twilight, a hoe for Pinkie. The speakers of the following lines step forward and lift their tools in turn.)
Fluttershy: For our friends!
Applejack, Rarity: For our families!
Pinkie, Rainbow: (Rainbow holding an axe) For our home!
Twilight: For Equestria! (The vines curl forward; all six charge toward the camera by air and land.)
All six: EQUESTRIA!!
(Fade to black as Twilight’s face fills the screen, then in to a long shot of Canterlot under the same horrid sky as that in Ponyville. The path to the great city is choked with ponies who, to a one, have fallen under Sombra’s control and are plodding toward the gates, and the roadsides are punched through with crystal barbs. Among those at the head of the procession are Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, Starlight, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and Spike; a ball of black smoke loops into view ahead of them and forms into Sombra, who leads them over the lowered drawbridge. Four Royal Guard pegasi spot the throng from their observation post on a battlement and raise horns to sound an alarm, but two bursts from the dark gray stallion’s horn reduce the instruments to smoking splinters. The guards dive for cover; cut to Sombra, facing the closed gates at the far end of the drawbridge.)
Sombra: (over shoulder, pointing toward them) You! Break it down!
(These words are aimed at Macintosh, who lowers his head and gallops toward the gates. An instant before the scarlet cranium meets wood, cut to just inside; the gates withstand one hit, then two, but the third does them in and leaves the way clear for Sombra to lead his newly minted underlings. He stops to survey the opulent architecture laid out before him. Cut to the closed doors of the Canterlot Castle throne room, seen from inside, as his black/purple energy wreathes them from top to bottom. The view shifts to point directly along the red carpet and into the darkened chamber, toward the vacated thrones; the doors swing open, spilling in light, and dozens of shadows extend into view along the full length of the floor. Sombra’s wondering stare turns to a leer of triumph.)
Sombra: They’ve fled! (walking in) Celestia and Luna are too cowardly to even stand against me! (He mounts the dais.) Equestria is mine!
(Zoom out slowly as his unfettered, unhinged laughter peals out over the throne room, then dissolve to Twilight and company facing down the out-of-control foliage in the Everfree Forest. Rainbow hunts for the ideal spot to swing her axe; Fluttershy drops her shears and huddles with a cry, but soon joins the others in an offensive relying on magic, muscle, and a good sharp cutting edge. She and Rainbow are the only ones still armed. The meek flyer dives toward a knot of brambles, teeth gripping the shears’ handles, and frees several small critters with one looping snip. She drops the implement in almost the same motion.)
Fluttershy: Come on, everypony!
(Seeing them too scared to move, she throws herself down to shield them with a yelp of fear as the tendrils grow back at an absurd speed. Here comes Applejack at a gallop, in harness and pulling a plow whose blade slashes through the thickest of the lot; the woody prison collapses to pieces around Fluttershy and her wards. She lets them go and gets up to race after the farmer; by the time she catches up, Applejack has unhitched herself and Rainbow has dropped the axe. All have deflated a notch or three, even as Twilight and Rarity keep firing.)
Applejack: We’ve been at this for hours, but it’s just growin’ back too fast!
Twilight: We have to keep trying!
(They barrel toward a wall of thorns, only to get slapped back and tumble to the turf. A low growl rumbles out from the forest as the peril looms over the half-prone forms—and then twin beams of blindingly bright magic, one blue and one yellow, rip downward at an angle to obliterate the nearest patch of vines. The mares turn their stunned gazes skyward and find Celestia and Luna hovering in the light that shines through a break in the sickly brown clouds. They fire again, the six down below gasping happily and standing up to see more of the colossal weeds being wiped out. A third salvo is the prelude for their landing.)
Applejack: I know we’re supposed to be able to handle things on our own, but I’ve never been happier to see two ponies in my whole life!
(A poof of white light marks the arrival of Starswirl the Bearded.)
Starswirl: Nopony is meant to handle this on their own!
Twilight: Starswirl, the Tree of Harmony! It’s—
Starswirl: (stopping her with a hoof) I know. I alerted the Princesses as soon as I could. I felt it when it happened, like part of my essence just ceased to be. (Close-up of Twilight.)
Twilight: (head drooping) I know what you mean. I’m sorry. (A gray hoof lifts her chin.)
Starswirl: (from o.s.) Don’t be. (Cut to frame both.) I’ve more than enough magic in me to keep the Everfree Forest under control.
Twilight: You can do that?
Starswirl: The Pillars and I planted the Tree of Harmony. Who do you think kept the forest under control before it did?
(Slow, confident steps bring him to the battlefront, where Celestia and Luna have kept at their extreme pruning.)
Starswirl: It will take time, but with the Princesses’ help, I can keep it at bay!
(The old mage levitates himself up several yards and cranks his horn up to top gear, strafing the area with a wide-angle beam. Left in its wake are a large trench carved into the dirt and a tangle of dead vegetation, both of which bring smiles to the spectators’ faces.)
Rainbow: Aw, yeah! (half-shoving Fluttershy and Pinkie aside) Go get ’em, Beardy!
(“Beardy” settles to the ground between Celestia and Luna and adds his mojo to the fight; after three tracts are blasted clean in quick succession, cut to Celestia. Zoom out to frame Twilight now alongside her on the start of the next line.)
Twilight: Sombra’s back, and he’s taken control of all of our friends! (Pan past Starswirl to Luna, who reacts with disbelief.)
Luna: We’ve left Canterlot defenseless!
Celestia: Twilight, you must go. Defend Equestria, and we shall contain the forest! (Twilight returns to her friends.)
Pinkie: At least now we’re back to just one problem.
(With a resolute nod, Twilight teleports them and herself away. Dissolve to the upper reaches of Canterlot and tilt down slowly to ground level, framing the masses of enthralled ponies who have taken up positions on battlements, the base of the outer wall, and the path leading to the now-raised drawbridge. The six poof into view facing this last group and yelp in terror upon getting a good look at just how badly they are outnumbered at every level.)
Pinkie: Aw, everypony’s all evil-y. (One guard leans down over a battlement with a scowling grunt.)
Fluttershy: Sombra’s gonna force us to fight our way through our friends?
Rainbow: Not if I can help it!
(She blazes ahead, ruffling the manes of the nearest ground contingent, and rises with the intent of going over the wall. That plan promptly hits a major snag in the form of several flight-suited, brainwashed Wonderbolts rising from behind the masonry and charging. Their teammate gasps sharply and stops just short of a collision, then gets a further surprise once magic beams slice the hazy ai from below and very nearly take her out. Dodging one potshot after another from the affected unicorns, she drops to the grass and takes cover behind Twilight’s spread wings.)
Rainbow: Okay. Guess we need a different plan. Twilight?
Twilight: I don’t know! I’m not prepared to fight against the citizens of Equestria! I guess that’s one more thing I’m not ready to do. (Sound of the drawbridge lowering.)
Applejack: Well, we’d better figure out somethin’ quick— (pointing ahead) —because none of them seem to have a problem with it!
(A proper scare grips the other five, and the massive wooden barricade thuds down to reveal a squadron of reinforcements ready to go. Dozens of blank-eyed citizens at both ends throw themselves into a blind charge, all but Rarity get clear of the tide of bodies, but she voices a panicked yelp as Fancypants and a phalanx bear down on her position. The dapper stallion levitates a large net and prepares to throw as she ducks and weaves.)
Rarity: Ooh, sorry about this, Fancypants!
(She counters with a spell that undoes his bow tie and wraps it around his head as a blindfold, then commandeers the net and drops it over her assailants. Applejack and Pinkie gallop in to clamp their teeth on the corners and pull in opposite directions, cinching the strands and hooking them onto crystalline outgrowths to anchor the group in place.)
Applejack: We promise we’ll let y’all out as soon as we can!
(A cluster of shadows lances down the path, cast by Fluttershy and Rainbow leading five of the Crystal Empire’s Royal Guard pegasi, clad in Sombra’s helmets. The two Ponyville mares split up, two enemies chasing Fluttershy and three Rainbow.)
Rainbow: (veering sharply back and forth; her pursuers follow) Eh, will I go here? Or here? Or here, or there?
(Fluttershy is doing her best to shake the two on her tail, but her lack of athleticism makes it all too easy for them to keep up. She looks ahead, puzzled.)
Fluttershy: Huh?
(Here comes her opposite number, who throws her a calculating nod and grin. She returns the gestures, whereupon the two set themselves on a collision course; they pull sharply up with only inches to spare, but the five guards fail to copy the maneuver and crash head-on into one another. Down they go like an armor-clad ton of bricks; Twilight catches sight of them, gasps, and exerts her magic to catch them before they can go splat. The five pegasi are set safely down in the grass off to one side.)
Rainbow: Gotcha!
(Now the Wonderbolts make another looping pass; she and Fluttershy drop to the other four, who back up toward each other into a panicked little cluster, and the hostiles slowly close in.)
Fluttershy: I don’t know how long we can hold them off!
Applejack: And holdin’ them off isn’t what we need, anyhow! We need to get inside!
Rarity: But we can’t just leave them here, all possessed and Sombra-fied!
Pinkie: What do we do, Twilight?
Twilight: I don’t know, but we can’t stay here.
(A mass teleport deposits them in a corridor of Canterlot Castle, now lined with ugly crystal forms of its own.)
Twilight: I’m sorry we couldn’t help our friends, but I didn’t know what else to do.
Applejack: At least we’re inside.
Pinkie: (gamely) Yeah! All we have to do now is defeat King Sombra. (A forced chuckle.)
Twilight: I…we…
(This is as far as she gets before a droplet of greenish liquid falls from above and splashes off the tip of her nose. Puzzled eyes turn toward the ceiling; cut to a longer shot, which frames Discord floating lazily down and biting into a juicy pickle impaled on a fork that he holds in his talons.)
Discord: Oh, my! (He stands on his hind limbs.) No Elements? No Princesses? (Cut to the six; he continues o.s.) Seems like you’re in a bit of a pickle.
(It is held into view on the end of this, after which the camera cuts back to him.)
Discord: Or are you in… (Lion-paw digits snap; a jar of jelly appears in their grip.) …more of a jam?
(The pickle is dipped into the contents and given a hearty chomp.)
Discord: Mmm!
Twilight: Discord! What are you doing here? (Swallowing, he vanishes the items.)
Discord: Well, I was going to hang these up all over the castle to celebrate your coronation, but apparently it’s a bit premature.
(He starts this line by reeling down a construction-paper banner decorated with a crayon drawing of Twilight’s crowned head, and finishes by folding/rolling it up and making it go bye-bye behind his ears.)
Twilight: I’m so glad to see you! (hovering) We could really use some “all-powerful Lord of Chaos” help right now!
Discord: (innocently) Moi? Oh, I couldn’t possibly.
(He walks away, the group following, and they are very soon spotted by a fireteam of Royal Guard pegasi. Two rise into the air.)
Pinkie: Aw, poodles! (The guards charge; cut to Twilight.)
Twilight: Discord, please!
(Pan/tilt up to him—now wearing a pair of gold-framed pince-nez glasses on a chain around his neck and reading a book, which he grumpily closes and tosses over his shoulder.)
Discord: Oh, fine. (A taloned snap sends away the corrective lenses.) Just to be clear, I was really rooting for you to do this on your own and parlay that confidence boost into being the best protectors of Equestria you can be.
(The armored ponies barrel down the corridor toward the group.)
Rainbow: A little less talking and a little more helping?!?
(The draconequus just gives an idle snap, not even sparing a glance for the quartet. The two airborne pegasi wind up caught in a giant spiderweb; a door appears in the floor, opens to expose a stairway and let one galloper drop out of sight, and closes again; the last one slides to a stop and is immediately buried under several giant scoops of ice cream and a basketball-sized cherry. He impassively sticks his head out from the sugary trap.)
Fluttershy: Oh, thank you, Discord! (The ponies move out.)
Twilight: I don’t know what we’d do without you.
(Zoom in to a close-up of Discord, who pouts uncertainly but starts off after them. In the throne room, Sombra is busy growing more crystal shards and jags wherever his horn’s spells can reach. The doors at the far end are flung open for the not-quite-magnificent seven to enter.)
Rainbow: (acidly) Okay, King Sombra. Time to give up the crown! (Cut to just behind them; slow pan.)
Sombra: (chuckling) Here to fight the good fight with nothing but your wits? (Close-up; he fires up his eyes.) Admirable, but foolish.
(A roar escapes his throat as a spell zips from his horn, but Discord jumps in front of the mares and snaps, causing it to disintegrate into a splatter of yellowish goop and vanish. The tyrant tries again, but this one is neutralized in a puff of pink smoke. Pan slowly toward the thrones.)
Discord: (to Twilight) Well, I guess it’s on me to be the MVP today. I was betting on you, and I do hate being wrong. (Close-up, seen from behind.) Although if you think about it, I am your friend, so maybe you win because friendship wins?
(During this line, he counteracts a string of further spells by turning them into balloons, butterflies, confetti, and sparkles, in that order.)
Discord: (gesturing to Fluttershy) Although Fluttershy should get most of the credit for that. She’s my favorite.
(A diabolical grin creases Sombra’s face, and he lets go with a real barn-burner aimed directly at the pink-maned pegasus. Every neuron freezes up, leaving her paralyzed in the face of certain doom—that is, until Discord throws himself in front of her and takes the full brunt of the attack. Action and sound shift to slow motion as he tumbles limply overhead with a yell, leaving a series of rapidly fading afterimages in the air until he thuds to the carpet. Normal speed resumes with Fluttershy’s horrified gasp, the blue-green eyes instantly tearing up.)
Fluttershy: Discord!
(Voicing a round of gasps, all six mares race to the insensate chaos master. Snap to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the tableau.)
Sombra: (laughing) Not even the Lord of Chaos can stand against me! I am truly the most powerful creature in Equestria!
(He accentuates this assertion by raising an irregular throne from the dais, hiding those of Celestia and Luna from sight.)
Rainbow: Discord! (She and Fluttershy cradle his head/neck.)
Twilight: We need you!
Fluttershy: (voice breaking, shaking him gently) Ohhh…please wake up, please wake up…
(She trails off into teary sobs, but the mismatched red eyes do open so he can regard her weakly. Despair turns into an overjoyed gasp.)
Fluttershy: Discord!
Twilight: I’m so glad you’re okay! We can’t beat him without you!
Sombra: (stepping onto throne) You couldn’t beat me with him, either.
(He plunks his rump onto the seat with a malevolent laugh. Down on the floor, Discord coughs a bit and tries to stand, but his strength fails so that he winds up on the carpet again. He speaks in a hoarse tone until further notice.)
Discord: It would appear that you’re on your own.
(He pulls in a deep breath and snaps, but can manage only a feeble scatter of sparks.)
Discord: I have nothing left to give. (He lays his head down.)
Applejack: That’s it, then? We’re doomed?
Sombra: Of course you are. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to realize it. Now, how shall I eliminate all this clutter in my throne room?
(The Ponyville six turn to face him, growling out the depths of their searing rage, but are distracted by the lift of Discord’s head.)
Discord: Listen to me. You don’t need me. You don’t need the Princesses, and you certainly don’t need the Elements. (Cough.) Fluttershy…
(Cut to her, watery-eyed but smiling gently, and pan in turn to each one he addresses.)
Discord: (from o.s., caressing her cheek) …you will always be kind. Applejack, you will always be honest. Rarity, you’ll always be generous.
(Longer shot; he hitches in a breath and gestures at the hovering Rainbow.)
Discord: And Rainbow Dash will be loyal as can be. (raising his head) Pinkie…
(Cut to her, grinning from ear to ear despite her tears.)
Discord: (from o.s.) …will always bring laughter wherever she goes. (Pan to Twilight.) And Twilight… (Cough; she tears up.) …you are and always will be the embodiment of magic. (All seven again.) You lost sight of what’s in front of you. You’re here, together, willing to give everything you’ve got for Equestria. (Cut to them; he continues o.s.) Nothing and nopony can ever take that away from you, because that’s who you are.
(Warm, appreciative smiles pass from face to face, but a nasty chuckle from the throne room snaps them back to the present crisis and reminds them just how much they cannot stand the cause of it.)
Sombra: It’s going to take more than a sentimental speech to save you. (He steps off his throne.)
Twilight: (to others) Discord’s right. We’ve proven time and time again that the real magic is the six of us working together. (They turn to face Sombra.) With these girls by my side, I’m not afraid of you!
(Long profile view of the face-off; Sombra descends to floor level, eyes and horn boiling with magic, as the camera pans slowly toward his end.)
Twilight: I’m not afraid of what you can do or how much power you have! (Close-up of Sombra.)
Sombra: You should be.
(The spell he slings her way is blocked with a quick shield, but the momentum pushes her back a few feet.)
Twilight: (walking slowly forward) You may knock us down, but we’re gonna get back up again! (Another spell; another block; she continues, the others falling in behind.) And again! (Another, parried with ease.) And again! As long as we’re together, we will never stop trying to defeat you!
(Now both horns fire off, their beams canceling each other out as she hovers just off the carpet. After a moment’s grunting strain, her spell expands into a pink/white nimbus that encloses all the mares and Fluttershy steps up to take one hoof.)
Fluttershy: For our friends! (Applejack links to Twilight, Rarity to Fluttershy.)
Applejack, Rarity: For our families! (Pinkie and Rainbow touch the flanks of these two.)
Pinkie, Rainbow: For our home!
Twilight: For Equestria!
[Animation goof: The mouths of all but Twilight move on the third line.]
(The glowing magic lifts them off the floor, Pinkie and Rainbow joining hooves to turn their line into a circle. Sombra’s offensive dissipates harmlessly against it until he cuts the power and recoils with a snarl of equal parts fury and fear. Twilight’s eyes have gone pure white, and her mane/tail have started to billow on their own in the same manner as Celestia and Luna.)
Sombra: No! This can’t be possible! Your magic can’t defeat mine! I DESTROYED THE SOURCE OF YOUR POWER!!
(Now a few flecks of light are playing up and down the streaked blue strands.)
Twilight: You can’t destroy our friendship, Sombra!
Rainbow: And we keep telling bad guys…
Applejack: …but y’all just don’t seem to remember.
All six: Friendship is magic!
(The eyes of Twilight’s friends turn white to match hers, and their shared strength intensifies until the whole place is thrumming and vibrating. Sombra unloads one squarely into Twilight’s face, with no effect whatsoever, and the sphere swells to engulf and disintegrate him.)
Sombra: (fading out) NOOOOOOOOOO!!
(The obscenity of a throne that he raised cracks and bursts to pieces, leaving the genuine articles untouched. A multicolored shock wave ripples outward from Canterlot Castle, clearing the sky of its ghastly brown pall, vaporizing the jagged crystal formations, and restoring the minds and colors of all those under the mad unicorn’s sway. The healing magic spreads through Ponyville and the Everfree Forest, bringing everything back to tranquil normality.)
(Dissolve to the closed doors of the throne room, seen from inside. Celestia’s magic wraps and opens them so she and Luna can enter. They stop short, suddenly boggled, and the camera zooms out to frame Discord lying on a pile of pillows and being attended by Twilight and company. Their magic light show has ended, and they are all back to their normal appearances.)
Fluttershy: Ohh…do you want more juice?
(The hoarseness is now gone from the trickster’s voice, but he still sounds fairly weak.)
Discord: Only if it’s not too much trouble. (perking up) And it’s red. And it has one of those little umbrellas. (Hold up two talons.) And two cherries.
(Fluttershy turns to fill the request, but stops at his next words.)
Discord: (holding up three talons) No, no, actually, make it three. (She heads off.) And maybe, uhhhhh…some donuts?
Celestia: (playfully) I see you’ve made yourselves at home.
Twilight: Celestia! Luna! (crossing to them) I know what you’re gonna say. I should’ve called on you as soon as I knew how dangerous it was. (Head-on view, framing Luna in the fore.) A good leader knows when to ask for help, and I didn’t. And because of me, the Tree of Harmony was destroyed. Equestria deserves somepony much better than me as its leader.
Celestia: (from o.s.) You’re right.
(Twilight reacts to these two words as if her mentor has just gone upside her head with a two-by-four; once she recovers her wits, she drops her head with a crushed moan. Cut to frame all three Princesses.)
Celestia: (smiling gently, lifting Twilight’s chin) About one thing. (hoof across Twilight’s shoulders) A good leader knows when to ask for help, but a great leader has the courage to admit when they’ve made a mistake—and the strength to make it right. Today you’ve proven to me beyond any doubt that you will be a great leader.
Twilight: “Will be”?
Celestia: Luna and I have decided. It may have been a bit unfair to thrust this upon you without giving you the time you need to prepare. (Cut to Twilight.)
Twilight: (immensely relieved) Oh, thank goodness! I really wasn’t ready!
(Pan to frame Discord in the background, about to enjoy the glass of juice Fluttershy has procured for him—complete with paper umbrella and cherries speared on a swizzle stick. He is so surprised at this last that he throws it aside and springs upright, scattering pillows everywhere.)
Discord: Not ready?!? So Twilight’s not taking over? (He crosses to the gathering.) This was all for nothing? I pretended to be very hurt and gave one of the most convincing speeches of my—
(Cut to the eight equines on the end of this, faces shifting into varied degrees of incredulity, shock, and full-tilt annoyance.)
Twilight, Fluttershy: Pretended?!?
Discord: Of course! You don’t think some would-be king could actually hurt the Lord of Chaos, do you? (Talon/lion-paw quotation marks on “would-be king.”) Anyway, as I was saying…
(He bisects his body at the “waist,” the lower half falling away while the upper floats under its own power.)
Discord: …I pretended to be very hurt to convince you that you didn’t need anything but yourself to be the incredible leader I know you can be. (indignantly, to Celestia) And now it’s not happening?
Celestia: It will, but when she’s ready. (He reassembles himself.)
Discord: How can she not be ready? (pacing to a stained-glass window) What a waste of a perfectly wonderful speech! (pushing it up, climbing out) Ugh, honestly, I don’t know why I even bother.
(The brightly-hued pane is pulled shut behind him.)
Rarity: Ugh! So he could have ended the whole Sombra thing whenever he wanted!
Fluttershy: (tenderly) But he didn’t, because he cares. (Rarity grimaces, not believing a word of it.)
Rainbow: (shrugging) That’s Discord for you.
Applejack: He sure has a weird way of being supportive.
Pinkie: Super-odd dude!
(A stained-glass image of the joker appears in the window through which he exited…)
Window Discord: I heard that!
(…and is gone again, leaving the group to share a laugh.)
Luna: Also, truth be told, Celestia and I had fun today, fighting side by side with Starswirl for our home. It’s been years since we’ve gotten to do what you girls do. (winking) You all make it look so easy.
Rainbow: Well, we are kind of an awesome team.
Fluttershy: Every adventure is heart-pounding, but so rewarding.
Pinkie: I’m up for anything, as long as it’s with all of you.
Rarity: (giggling) Life certainly hasn’t been dull since we met.
Applejack: Nowhere else I’d rather be.
Twilight: We are pretty incredible together. And we would do anything for Equestria. I guess I know, when the time comes, as long as we’re together, we probably—
(A round of pointed throat-clearings from her five friends prompts her to reconsider with a smile.)
Twilight: —we definitely got this.
Other five: Awww…
(They pile in around their local Princess for a group hug.)
(Dissolve to a stretch of vine/moss-choked treetops under an evening sky that has gone a repulsive gray-green and tilt down slowly. The movement frames the swamp seen in Part One, decorated with its rude stone carving in Grogar’s likeness. From here, cut to Chrysalis, Cozy, and Tirek sitting in a circle within his underground stronghold. They have joined hooves and hands to form a circle, but the centaur and changeling look as if they would rather be punching it out with each other and/or the sweet-faced filly.)
Cozy: Now I’ll say something nice about centaurs; Tirek, you say something nice about changelings; and Chrysalis, you say something nice about ponies.
Chrysalis: (pulling away from Tirek) Never!
(All three are brought up short by the approaching sound of slow, deliberate steps. Cut to Grogar as he emerges from a shadowy nook in a distinctly bad mood.)
Grogar: Let us hope the three of you will be enough for my plans. (The three subordinates yank apart.)
Chrysalis: And what of King Sombra?
Tirek: Did he succeed?
(The goat steps over to the central table and its crystal ball.)
Grogar: (contemptuously) Ha!
(Its dark central bar expands to fill the surface, which brings up a replay of Twilight and company laying the magical smackdown on Sombra. Once this has ended, the ball returns to its original appearance and the camera tilts up from it to frame Grogar’s face.)
Grogar: I’d say he gambled—and lost! (climbing onto table) But at least he can serve as a warning to those who doubt continuing with my plans—unless any of you have doubts. (The three are visibly cowed.)
Tirek: Uh, not I.
Chrysalis: Nope!
Cozy: I’m good!
Grogar: Then we shall join forces and work together to bring Equestria to its knees!
(His hoarse laughter rings through the cavern; in response, the three surviving flunkies force themselves to smile and work up the most convincing laughs they can on no notice. The view fades to black around Grogar’s glaring eyes and bushy brows, and these sets of features disappear in their own time as his laughter dies away.)
UPROOTED
Written by Nicole Dubuc
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to the sun in a happy blue daytime sky and tilt down a few hundred feet. Rainbow Dash, outfitted in her Wonderbolt flight suit and goggles, zigzags and loops through the clouds and is closely followed by Silverstream. The pegasus is first to touch down near a cluster of houses at the edge of Ponyville proper; the young hippogriff follows suit, hitting the ground hard enough to send a web of cracks radiating out across the turf. She straightens up proudly and turns to face Rainbow, who hovers over to her while propping goggles on forehead.)
Rainbow: Congratulations, Silverstream. (pulling out a medal, passing it over) You’re officially the first non-pegasus Wonderbolt! (Silverstream tucks it away.)
Silverstream: Really? (blushing) That is such an honor! (shaking Rainbow’s hoof) I don’t know how to thank you, Professor Dash!
Rainbow: Easy. You’re kicking off our show— (poking Silverstream’s chest) —right now! So get up there and make me proud!
(She goes airborne, leaving a thoroughly befuddled Silverstream to stare up after her.)
Silverstream: Wait! (waving) I don’t have my uniform!
(Here comes Ocellus at a frantic gallop, clad in a mortarboard cap and graduation gown with a stole draped across her shoulders.)
Ocellus: Silverstream! Somehow I missed a class all year and the final is today! If I don’t pass, I can’t graduate!
(She gets no farther before a distant, full-throated scream from Yona cuts in. Cut to her, limbs flailing wildly as she free-falls her way past a distinctly bizarre area—much of it candy-themed—that stands across the stream from a more conventional stretch of architecture. She sweats buckets and covers her eyes in extreme close-up, then uncovers them and buttons her lip as she comes to an abrupt stop. A glance here, a glance there, and a zoom out reveals that she has stopped under her own power just inches short of the ground. So short, in fact, that she can extend her legs and put her hooves on the grass without stretching. As she voices a relieved sigh and wipes her brow, the other two students cross to her.)
Ocellus: Whoa. That was weird.
Silverstream: (pointing o.s.) And that’s even weirder.
(Crossing a chocolate-bar bridge, the three find Smolder perched on the edge of a giant teacup saucer that serves as a fountain; tea pours into it from an equally outsize pot and streams over one edge. The orange dragon is wearing a fancy gown, tiara, and makeup, a sight that boggles the minds of the others. She sips placidly from a regular-sized cup of tea.)
Smolder: Ahhh. (noticing them; eyes pop) Hmmm? (The cup is thrown aside.) Uh…this isn’t mine.
(She strips off all the finery—including the makeup—as if taking off a T-shirt and tosses it after the discarded beverage. This is followed by a supremely embarrassed grin, but none of her fellow students have any time to react before a terrified scream from the o.s. Gallus shreds the air.)
Gallus: (from o.s.) MAKE IT STOP!!
(Cut to him, hanging on for dear life at the top of a spiraling staircase as a door slowly creaks shut toward him. This in itself would not be worth mentioning, except for three facts. One, the stairs are rotated a quarter-turn, so that they descend from one side of the doorframe rather than floor level. Two, the door’s hinges are at the top edge of the frame. Three, the top of a desk is attached to one side, bearing a book, cup, and giant inkwell that stay put on the vertical surface. About the only normal aspects of the situation are the articles of clothing hung from hooks attached to the door.)
Gallus: MAKE IT STOP!!
(He whimpers and heaves for breath, the light narrowing inexorably to a pencil-thin beam before it stops.)
Gallus: Huh?
(Blue eyes stare uncomprehendingly toward the suddenly widening brightness, and one set of pink talons reaches in to pull him clear. Now Sandbar backs into view, staring worriedly up at an angle at something o.s.; he gets out only a couple of choked, fearful cries before the camera cuts to behind him and tilts up slowly. The object of his concern is a display case at least five times his own height, every one of its shelves stocked with an array of jumbo-sized, mouth-watering cakes. Cut to ground level again; before he can resolve the dilemma, a flare of bright pinkish light spills into view toward the six. It resolves into a glimmering image of Twilight Sparkle—the same one used by the Tree of Harmony to communicate with them in “What Lies Beneath.” Now, as then, the voice is level, serene, and possessed of a slight reverberation; however, the figure is translucent rather than solid.)
Tree TS: Good. You have all answered my summons.
Silverstream: Wait. You mean this isn’t my dream?
Yona: Friends must be dreaming together!
Gallus: More like a nightmare!
Sandbar: (stepping toward case) I know, right? How do I pick just one? They all look so good!
Smolder: (sourly) That’s your version of a bad dream? (Tree TS begins to flicker erratically.)
Ocellus: (to Tree TS) But why did you bring us here, Headmare Twilight?
Tree TS: I am not Twilight. I am merely the messenger. You all must hurry. The Tree of Harmony needs you.
(One twinkling foreleg slams to the red/white-checked ground, sending out beams in the coat colors of the real Twilight and her friends. One connects with each of the students, causing them to vanish from the surreal scene. Cut to a six-way split screen, one sitting bolt upright with a stunned gasp inside each section. The darkened rooms visible behind them, and the absence of Ocellus’s graduation regalia, tell the rest of the story—they have just been jolted out of this bizarre shared dream. Snap to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to the exterior of the School of Friendship during the day. Zoom in slowly and cut to Spike scrubbing the floor at the far end of the entrance hall. One last pass with his rag, and the stone surface is clean enough to sparkle and throw back his reflection. He smiles, winks, and throws himself a double index-finger gun and smug click of the tongue.)
Spike: Looking good! (Twilight teleports in behind him, on the edge of a freak-out.)
Twilight: Spike! I have horrible news!
(He is scared briefly off his feet, but quickly stands up again and sees a box of supplies hovering in her field.)
Spike: What’s wrong? Is the Crystal Empire under attack again?
Twilight: What? No! (levitating markers from box, lining them up) We only have twenty highlighters, and they’re all orange! How will everycreature color-code their notes?
(This verbal onslaught has again sent the little fellow to the floor; he shakes his head clear.)
Spike: (laughing a bit, pushing nearest marker away) I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that does that.
(The writing tools go back in the box, which moves with Twilight as she paces.)
Twilight: Still, twenty isn’t enough for the new school year! (He pulls even in a lazy hover.)
Spike: We got plenty of time to order more. The friendship students won’t be back until…
(Comes now the sound of a door opening. Pan quickly to the front entrance, now open; the students fly/race in, but Yona is not among them.)
Spike: (from o.s.) …uh…now?
(Here comes the yak, tripping over the steps and yelling her way through a tumble along the entrance hall that dumps her on her belly. Twilight gets the box out of the way just in time to keep it from being flattened.)
Twilight: Well, this is a surprise. Why are you all here so early? (Close-up; she floats out pages/folders and scans them.) Did I send out the wrong back-to-school date?
(Back to the juveniles on the start of the next line, Yona now up and crossing to them.)
Smolder: Oh, we’re not here for school.
Sandbar: Yeah, we’re back ’cause the Tree of Harmony called us here.
(The news brings Twilight around to a sharp gasp and a concerned glance toward Spike.)
Gallus: (smugly, pacing) Don’t feel bad it didn’t reach out to you. We kinda have a special connection with it after last year. (Sit.)
Twilight: But the Tree couldn’t have called you! It’s gone! Sombra destroyed it. (A six-part gasp from the audience.)
Spike: (to Twilight, hovering) Mmm-maybe next time, ease in with those truth bombs? (They cross to the students.)
Sandbar: What about the Elements of Harmony?
Twilight: Those are gone too.
Ocellus: But doesn’t that mean the Everfree Forest will take over Equestria?
Spike: We’ve got that part under control, and Sombra won’t be coming back, so…some good news, right?
(Cut to a slow pan across the line of thunderstruck youngsters and stop on Silverstream/Yona at one end.)
Silverstream: Can we see the Tree ourselves—or what’s left of it?
Twilight: As long as you promise to stick together. The Castle of the Two Sisters isn’t the safest place, as you may remember.
Yona: (defiantly) Yona not scared of puckwudgies anymore! Friends save whole school from evil pegasus.
Spike: (aside, to Twilight) She does have a point.
(Recall that the location in question is also known as the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. The headmare accepts this argument with a smile, sparking happy gasps and laughs among the gang. Dissolve to within the cavern in which the Tree had stood, the camera pointing toward the entrance and over some of the fragments scattered by King Sombra’s assault in “The End of the Beginning.” They make their way into view and stop short, the camera zooming in as they utter a round of horror-stricken gasps; cut to a long shot behind them and tilt up slowly. The ugly crystal protrusions that Sombra conjured up have been cleared away, but the gleaming wreckage is still on full display.)
Gallus: How could this happen?
(Ocellus eases across the rubble-strewn floor, scoops up a few chunks, and gasps softly at the sight of one crumbling to powder.)
Ocellus: (setting them down) If only we hadn’t gone home for summer break, maybe we could’ve saved the Tree! (Smolder snorts out smoke with a growl.)
Smolder: I wish that Sombra guy was still around, so we could teach him a lesson!
Yona: That not bring back Tree—or Elements of Harmony.
(All six lose themselves in their own brooding thoughts for some seconds; Silverstream breaks it with a smiling gasp and flies to the ruined Tree.)
Silverstream: Wait! We all saw and heard the Tree in our dream, right? How could it talk to us if it was really gone? (hovering) Maybe if we close our eyes and think really strong friendship thoughts, the Tree will get better!
Smolder: (shrugging) Eh, I’ve heard worse suggestions.
(The students join hooves and hands—Silverstream hovering, Smolder standing, the other four on their haunches—and all six shut their eyes and concentrate for all they are worth. Long silence.)
Sandbar: (whispering) Is it working? (Eyes open.)
Yona: (sadly) No. (They break apart.)
Ocellus: I guess the Tree really is gone.
Gallus: Then we need to do something to honor it!
Smolder: Ah! Good idea, Gallus!
Sandbar: (trotting toward Tree) Hey! Maybe that’s why the Tree called us! It must’ve used the last of its magic to make sure we’d come here and keep its memory alive! (Cut to Ocellus.)
Ocellus: (smiling) It did say it needed us.
Thorax: (from o.s., sharply) Ocellus!
(The young changeling’s head nearly spins off her neck, so quickly does she turn with a scared grimace toward the sound of her name. A lick of magic washes over her to leave a large rock floating in midair, marked by the two blue-green eyes. She crashes to the ground and does her best to be inconspicuous as the changeling ruler touches down to unleash his most piercing glare, trailed closely by a very worried Twilight.)
Thorax: There you are! The hive has been worried sick! Why did you leave without telling us? The last time you and your friend did that, it almost brought our kingdoms to war! (Ocellus resumes her natural form and stands with head bowed contritely.)
Ocellus: Uh, sorry, Thorax. It was an emergency!
Thorax: Well, next time, ask before you run off. Now come on. Let’s go home.
(He and Twilight lead her toward the cavern entrance, but Smolder flies up to intercept the two changelings. Twilight keeps walking.)
Smolder: Wait! She can’t leave! We have a…dragon quest!
Thorax: But she’s not a dragon.
(One flare later, Ocellus has corrected that little hitch by transforming into a skinny tan specimen and is offering a shaky grin.)
Thorax: You know what I mean. (Ocellus drops the disguise; now Twilight has stopped her exit.)
Yona: This quest for all Yona friends! Need to help Tree!
Sandbar: And it might take a while.
Silverstream: (beseechingly) Can we stay, Headmare Twilight?
(Said headmare finds herself on the receiving end of a six-way bombardment from big sad soulful eyes. She looks to Thorax, who smiles and nods consent.)
Twilight: (smiling) Well…as long as you get permission from your kingdoms, I suppose it’s all right.
Gallus: (fanning out three sheets of parchment) You want that permission slip in triplicate, or is one enough?
(The young griffon gets no fewer than seven funny looks.)
Gallus: What? I like to be prepared.
(Dissolve to a stretch of the barren Dragon Lands under their seemingly permanent pall of clouds and smoke. Dragon Lord Ember is visible as a tiny speck on the edge of the massive natural stone throne in the center of the plain; in the fore, Smolder and another dragon hunker down for a bout of arm wrestling as spectators cheer them on. The two grunt and groan and exert themselves, Smolder soon finding herself at a disadvantage. In turn, the camera cuts to a close-up of each grim-set face and narrows to a horizontal band that frames only the narrowed eyes. A fullscreen view shifts to the straining arms; Smolder pins her opponent with a final shout and stands upright, raising her fists and laughing triumphantly as cheers drift her way. She turns expectantly toward the throne and gets a small smile and nod from Ember, who signs an open scroll and hands it off when Smolder flies up to her—“win the match and I’ll let you do this.” The orange dragon reads over the sheet, pumps a fist, and flies away.)
(Wipe to an overhead shot of Yakyakistan and cut to one of its denizens—Yona’s mother, as seen in “The Hearth’s Warming Club”—draping a rug over a rack set up outside her hut. Two others have already been set up in a line, and she pats the newest addition a few times to dislodge quite a lot of dust. She wipes sweat from her brow, but stops short at the sound of hooves pawing the ground. Down the way, Yona has come home and is preparing to charge, steam snorting from the broad nostrils. Here she comes, hitting all three rugs and sending up clouds of dust on both a forward and a return pass, and Mother smiles gratefully at having this bit of drudge work off the books. Wipe to the interior of the hut; Mother enters, climbs up on a chair padded with hay, and lies down just as Yona slides a cushion into place to rest her head. A steaming cup of some hot beverage is pushed across on a stool, followed by a blanket draped across the humped back, and the two share a nuzzle. Dissolve to Mother standing up and crossing the hut, the cover gone, then cut to just outside its blanket entrance as she pushes this aside and smiles out at the blowing snowflakes. A longer overhead shot tells the tale: a blizzard has begun, but Yona has busied herself bulldozing the drifts to clear a walkway leading to the hut. As Yona pushes the last mass aside, Mother emerges with a rolled-up scroll in her mouth and lets it unfurl—another signed permission slip. A beaming Yona hugs her and hurries away with it.)
(Wipe to a neighborhood of buildings in Griffonstone, one of which is in considerably worse shape than the others. Gallus lands at its closed front door and knocks, scroll in talons, and is met by the sour-faced visage of old Gruff, who wastes no time in coughing up a lungful of dust. Gallus unfurls the scroll to show it as his own copy of the form and opens his mouth to explain; before he can get out even one word, though, it is snatched away and impaled on his beak, freshly signed. The crotchety elder slams the door in Gallus’s face, not seeing him pull it loose and fly off with a smile.)
(Wipe to a long shot of the changeling hive, zooming in slowly, and cut to an extreme close-up of two pencils scribbling over yet another copy of the permission slip. A longer shot puts them in the mouths of two very young changelings—Ocellus’s younger siblings, as seen in “The Hearth’s Warming Club.” The paper is pulled away and signed by her parents, using writing tools of their own in the same way. In a still-longer shot, Ocellus receives the slip from them and hugs it to herself with a blissful grin, then buzzes her wings up to third gear and zooms away.)
(Wipe to long shot of Mount Aeris, zooming in slowly, and cut to Silverstream and her family at the shore. Only her mother Oceanflow is in the water as a sea pony; the other three are hippogriffs, Silverstream and her father Skybeak on the sand, her brother Terramar hovering over the surf. She has set up an easel for all three to see, set with a large drawing pad, and Skybeak is holding the permission slip. Flipping one page at a time, she brings up a series of colored sketches that summarize the story so far, explaining as she goes: herself asleep and dreaming of flying with Rainbow…Tree TS asking for the group’s help…the School…the Tree, intact…its smashed remains…her own shocked face and those of her friends. In a blink, the needed signatures are on the parchment and Silverstream gleefully throws herself forward to catch them all in a group hug.)
(Dissolve to a long shot of the cavern entrance, in the ravine below the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. The five out-of-towners have returned, no longer toting their paperwork, and Sandbar is galloping out of the darkness toward them.)
Sandbar: Hey, you’re back! Great! (leading them in) Since I live locally, I figured I’d do a little cleaning up while you were gone. (Cut to just inside.) Give us a head start, you know?
(He stops and gestures proudly ahead; zoom in quickly on the other five, who gasp in undiluted shock.)
Gallus: Sandbar, where’s the Tree?
(The reason for this question comes into view when the camera cuts to behind the group: all traces of it have been removed, leaving not so much as a speck of crystal detritus.)
Sandbar: I got rid of it, to make room for a memorial.
Smolder: (angrily) You did this?
Sandbar: (a bit uneasily) Uh, yeah. That’s what you guys were thinking, right?
(He slaps on a big placating grin, but is met with varied dismay and disgust—and a clawed orange hand slapped to Smolder’s face.)
Silverstream: Soooooo not. (Ocellus flies toward the vacant site.)
Ocellus: How can we remember the Tree if it’s totally gone?!
Sandbar: (brightly) Oh, it’s not gone. (trotting ahead) Look!
(The four still back near the entrance hustle after him. Cut to a close-up of a tiny, freshly planted sapling as he hunches down to it.)
Sandbar: I planted a new tree.
(The others gather around it, clearly unimpressed, and he stands up with a self-conscious growl and grimace. Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to the students.)
Ocellus: Sandbar! You know that’s not the same tree, right?
Sandbar: But—it’s a symbol, you know? (Close-up.)
Yona: (crossing to him) Pony heart in right place.
(She rests a hoof on the pale green chest, only to hear a frustrated growl from the o.s. Gallus. Cut to him, Silverstream, and Smolder.)
Gallus: It doesn’t matter! (hovering up to ceiling) This cave was supposed to stay exactly the same, so future creatures could come visit and experience the memory of the Tree!
Sandbar: Sorry, everycreature. I thought I was helping. (Gallus drops toward the others.)
Smolder: The Tree of Harmony is a huge part of Equestrian history. (kneeling over the sapling) If we’re gonna honor it, we need to do better than that.
Silverstream: (excitedly, hovering) Yeah! Like with lots of artwork that represents the symbolism and deep emotions of the Tree.
Gallus: No, it should be a museum, with all the Tree’s history and artifacts!
(Smolder hops up to stand among the flat-topped outcroppings that line the cavern walls.)
Smolder: Or a really big and imposing monument, so everycreature knows how powerful the Tree was!
(For her part, Ocellus is putting the finishing touches on a small tower of stones, decreasing in size from bottom to top.)
Ocellus: I think we should turn this cave into a place for creatures to reflect on the Tree’s true gift—the Elements of Harmony.
(Cut to Smolder, rolling her eyes in disgust. On each of the three lines after hers, the screen splits vertically to frame that speaker alongside the previous ones.)
Smolder: Boring!
Silverstream: I like my idea better.
Sandbar: What’s more perfect than another tree?
Ocellus: What would Headmare Twilight want?
(An irritated Gallus leans into view in front of the four images.)
Gallus: Yona! (Fullscreen view of all six.) You’ve been awfully quiet. Which idea do you like best?
Yona: Yona like when friends not argue. (smiling) M-Maybe friends listen to each other and make plan together?
(Long pause.)
Others: Nah.
(They fan out across the cavern, leaving the bovid to utter a weary little moan. Wipe to Sandbar sitting on his haunches and tending to his sapling, a watering can in easy reach.)
Sandbar: Hey, little guy. (watering it) Need a drink?
Gallus: (from o.s., boisterously) Step right up! (Green hooves fumble the can, spilling its contents.) Walk this way! Welcome to the one, the only…
(On this last, an irked Sandbar gets up, fetches a pair of earmuffs, and puts them on the sapling. Cut to Gallus hovering farther down the length of the cavern—which is now set up as a gaudy combination of museum, gift shop, and carnival sideshow complete with ticket booth. Yona sits reading over a sheet as two visiting mars make their way toward the display.)
Gallus: …the magical Tree of Harmony Museum! (He ducks into the booth.) Come! See the birthplace of the Tree! (Out again; pan quickly to him gesturing at a painting.) Grown from the tears of a basilisk…
(Another such pan brings him to a sheet of plywood painted with likenesses of Twilight and Starswirl the Bearded, with holes cut where the faces would go—a setup for tourists to get their pictures taken. He puts his head through first Twilight’s side and then Starswirl’s as he continues.)
Gallus: …and tended day and night by pony magicians!
(Off he goes; pan quickly to him stopping by the booth.)
Gallus: (hovering, gesturing around himself) This is truly one of the wonders of Equestria!
(A skeptical Yona crosses to him, carrying her paper rolled up, as he settles to the ground.)
Yona: Uh, Gallus? None of that actually true.
Gallus: (normal tone) So? Honoring the Tree means giving it a story that creatures will care about. (Zoom out to frame Sandbar on the next line, earmuffs hanging around neck.)
Sandbar: It already has a great story!
Gallus: Yeah, but mine makes more sense.
Sandbar: Whatever. (turning away) Can you just keep it down? My sapling doesn’t like the noise.
Gallus: Good! It doesn’t belong in the Tree’s memorial anyway!
(In no time flat, he is back in carnival-barker mode and accosting the two mares.)
Gallus: (ushering them across cavern) And if you think this is great, just wait until you see the mystical Cave of Harmony!
(The first time this cavern has been mentioned by name. Yona directs a worried glance after him, then transfers it to her ignored fact sheet. Cut to Smolder at the edge of the ravine outside; a slow push allows her to topple an irregular rock slab to the bottom. She flies down, takes a few steps to build up momentum, and launches herself into a flying kick that smashes a gouge into the stone. It takes her almost no time to stand up from her crouching touchdown and let go with a blast of fire that washes across the screen. Behind it, the view wipes to a head-on close-up of her, Yona walking up in the background. The dragon closes one eye and lifts thumbs and forefingers in front of the other, ends touching to form a rectangular viewing window.)
Yona: What dragon doing?
(Digits lowered; eye open; fly up to the slab—now pocked with further fissures and impact craters.)
Smolder: (punching/kicking/digging fragments loose) Making a memorial statue of the Tree. When creatures see this, they’ll be super-impressed!
Yona: That…look like rock, not Tree.
Smolder: (needled, face reddening) I’m not finished yet! (calmer) And honestly… (She lands.) …I’m kinda having a hard time remembering what the Tree looked like. I can’t believe I’m already forgetting.
(Wipe to a close-up of a can of bright green paint as a brush is dipped into it and withdrawn, then cut to Silverstream. She is in the Cave of Harmony, and she applies the brush to the nearest rocks with enthusiasm. Lifting off, she smears streaks of orange and yellow to the walls, then clamps her beak on the brush and swings her head back and forth to send spatters of paint everywhere. The tool is removed so she can ponder a bit.)
Silverstream: Hmmm…
(Longer shot; she has been painting abstract, multicolored designs on the walls and floor with the help of several cans of paint. The floor design emanates from an image of the Tree.)
Silverstream: (hovering, lifting yellow can) …needs more Loyalty.
(She sloshes paint onto the floor as Yona approaches and comes within an ace of dousing her. The yak has her scroll of notes in her teeth.)
Silverstream: Careful, Yona! It’s not dry yet. (She lands and sets the can down; Yona transfers the scroll to a hoof.)
Yona: What hippogriff painting?
(A still-longer shot picks out more stylized art pieces that stretch up to the ceiling. Tilt up slowly.)
Silverstream: It’s the Tree, silly.
(Undeterred by Yona’s confused stare, she flies up to point out some of her creations.)
Silverstream: See? These are the emotions its loss made me feel, dancing with the representations of Elements of Harmony.
(Down she comes, finding her classmate to be no closer to wrapping her head around it all than before. A broad shadow casts itself over both of them, accompanied by the beating of wings…)
Silverstream: Maybe I should label it.
(…and a drop of water falls from above, followed by a gout that leaves them both soaked. Silverstream shakes herself clean and glares upward as the light returns.)
Ocellus: (from o.s.) Oops!
(Cut to a long shot of the area. The shape-shifter has assumed the giant insect form she used briefly in “School Daze”: somewhere between a mosquito, bumblebee, and dragonfly, her four sets of claws gripping a stone fountain topped by a replica of the six-pointed star in Twilight’s cutie mark. The drenching stemmed from the fact that she is not holding the thing level, allowing some of the water it contains to pour out.)
Ocellus: Sorry! (Close-up of Silverstream.)
Silverstream: (glancing down, panicked) Oh, no!
(Tilt down to her floor painting, many of its colors having run together due to the water.)
Silverstream: (scrabbling, smearing it more) Brown isn’t an Element of Harmony!
(Zoom out as Ocellus struggles to keep the fountain on an even keel, then cut to her. It seems to level itself out suddenly, but a zoom out shows Yona lending a hoof to the job. The scroll is back in the yak’s mouth.)
Ocellus: (gasping happily) Thanks, Yona. This fountain is heavier than I thought.
(They plunk it down, the entire Cave shaking with the impact, and the sound of tinkling wind chimes draws Yona’s attention elsewhere. Sure enough, several sets of them are now hanging from the ceiling, and assorted relaxation aids have been laid out—cushions, sculptures styled as the Element gems, a small rock garden, and so forth. Ocellus reverts to her natural form and sits on a cushion, crossing her hind legs.)
Ocellus: It’s for creatures to look at as they honor the Tree’s memory in quiet thought and contemplation.
(After a few seconds’ meditation, she flits over to Yona.)
Ocellus: I got some help and guidance from the counselor at our Feelings Forum back home. (Circle behind Yona; push her toward the cushions.) Only positive energy will bloom here.
Gallus: (from o.s., desperately) Wait! You can’t go yet!
(They turn to find him chasing after the two visitors to his overblown museum exhibit as they bolt for the exit. A cut to just outside the Cave picks out the garish decorations he has put up here as well in order to drum up business. He describes a wide arc overhead and lands to intercept the fleeing mares, who stop with a gasp, and comes up with two sock puppets over his talons—one of himself, the other of the Tree.)
Gallus: There’s a whole puppet show of the time the Tree tested us in the catacombs under the School of Friendship!
(Uneasy, frightened glances pass between the pair a moment before Smolder cruises overhead, hauling a very rough stone sculpture of the Tree. Gallus spots her and rises to a hover, dropping the puppets.)
Gallus: (flying after her) Hey! Stop!
(The tourists wisely choose this moment to bug out.)
Gallus: You can’t bring that hunk of junk into my museum! (Smolder stops.)
Smolder: It’s not for your museum, it’s for my Tree memorial!
(She flies into the Cave. In close-up profile, she stops short partway through the combined art exhibit and meditation area and looks back to find Gallus having grabbed on to one end of the carving. A brisk tug-of-war ensues.)
Gallus: So leave it outside!
Smolder: It belongs in here!
(Both of them lose their grip so that the thing falls squarely into the fountain, crushing it and dousing/ruining everything in sight. Silverstream looks up with a yelp from her latest bit of detail work, finding all her efforts trashed, and the fractured trunk begins to roll slowly toward Gallus—who now has his earmuffs on to block out all the noise as he waters his sapling. Yona’s eyes pop as she takes in the imminent peril to which the colt is utterly oblivious.)
Yona: Huh?
(She gallops ahead to flip him onto her back and get clear before it thunders past; the sapling goes with him, but its earmuffs fly off, and she drops the scroll she has carried in her mouth. Cut to Gallus and Smolder, who cover/avert their eyes at the sound of a camera-shaking crash.)
Gallus: Uh-oh.
(A long shot and slow tilt down present an all-too-clear view of the devastation wrought by this string of mishaps. Silverstream pulls in a long, deep gasp as Sandbar removes his earmuffs.)
Silverstream: What did you do?!?
(Snap to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to a close-up of the broken fountain topper lying in a spreading puddle of water. Ocellus picks it up and regards it sadly.)
Ocellus: My meditation garden is ruined! (to Gallus/Smolder) Why couldn’t you have been more careful?
Gallus: This never would’ve happened if you had all just listened to me!
Sandbar: And made the Tree some kind of roadside attraction? Uh, no thanks! (Silverstream hyperventilates into a paper bag for a moment.)
Silverstream: Headmare Twilight is gonna be so mad when she sees what you guys did to the Cave of Harmony!
Smolder: Yeah, like some rainbow art project was better?
Sandbar: Not cool!
Silverstream: It’s impressionism!
Ocellus: I’m just glad the Tree isn’t here to see this.
Smolder: (to Sandbar) This is all your fault!
Gallus: I give up!
Yona: (growling, rearing up) QUIET!!
(Both front hooves come down with enough force to shake the Cave.)
Yona: Friends doing this the wrong way! (Slow pan across the others; she continues o.s.) All remembering Tree of Harmony for what Tree was, not what Tree is!
Smolder: (very snarky) You mean gone? (Yona steps forcefully into view to face them.)
Yona: No! (pacing around them) Yona mean, even though Tree not here here, Tree here—in hearts.
(She points to the floor on “here here,” then sits and indicates her own chest in close-up as she finishes.)
Yona: (holding up scroll) Tree made friendship even closer. (She unrolls it to show off sketches of it and them. Spirits begin to rise, little by little.)
Ocellus: (from o.s.) That’s right! (Cut to her and the others, Sandbar has replanted the sapling.) We ran away to be together right above this spot! The Castle of the Two Sisters!
Sandbar: And later on, the Tree tested us to show we’re stronger as a team!
Smolder: It did call us all here.
Silverstream: (gasping) You mean the Tree of Harmony lives on in our friendship!
Gallus: Wow. I can’t believe we just got schooled by a yak. (Yona closes her scroll on the end of this.)
Yona: (setting it down) Yaks know things not forever. That’s why smash and rebuild.
Ocellus: I think we took care of the smashing part.
Gallus: Then maybe we should start building. Together? (Smiles/nods all around.)
Smolder: Just one problem. We still haven’t decided what we should do for the Tree.
(Eyes turn toward Yona, who thinks hard and gets a spark of inspiration.)
Yona: Yona have idea.
(She steps off to one side; cut to the Cave wall, where she is backing up and pulling a cart by the harness in her teeth. It is full to overflowing with the broken fragments of…)
Ocellus: (from o.s., gasping) The Tree?! (Cut to her and the others.) Where did you find it?
Sandbar: Oh, I didn’t move it too far.
(This admission earns him a round of hairy eyeballs.)
Sandbar: It was kinda heavy.
Gallus: (irked) And you’re just mentioning this now.
Yona: What important is that Yona bring back branches so friends can rebuild.
Smolder: (scratching head) Rebuild what, exactly?
Silverstream: (hovering, waving for attention) Ooh, ooh, ooh! I know! Something that represents what the Tree is—the gateway to our friendship!
Yona: Yes!
(She pulls two pieces of roughly the same length and leans them together to that they support one another’s weight to form a rough triangular arch.)
Yona: What ponies call it? Club…home?
Gallus: (catching on) A treehouse!
Ocellus: (gasping) That’s a great idea!
Smolder: I know the Tree would’ve liked that.
Yona: (nodding) Uh-huh.
(All move in to start, Ocellus taking on her giant cross-breed insect form, and Sandbar tries unsuccessfully to shift a broken portion of the fountain.)
Sandbar: (calling over shoulder) Help me lift this piece!
(Yona cheerfully assists by pushing it with her head.)
Bright piano/flute melody with glockenspiel and acoustic guitar accents, fast 4 (C major)
(Other hunks of junk are lifted/hauled/swept, while brushes/rags/mops are put to work on cleaning up the spilled paint. As Smolder makes a pass across the floor, the view wipes behind her to a sheet of blueprint paper laid out on the floor, bare except for a grid pattern. Silverstream is the first to start drawing out a design. Ocellus resumes her natural form during this sequence.)
Piano only; slightly slower tempo
Silverstream: We celebrate our friendship
Ocellus: We celebrate the Tree
Strings/guitar in
(Smolder adds to the sketch, which now depicts a treehouse, and all gather around the cartload of Tree bits.)
Sandbar: The memories inside us
All six: We’ll build for all to see
Piano out; flute/bass drum/glockenspiel in
(A full bucket passes the camera; wipe behind it to a stretch of Cave wall and zoom out as Smolder flies it across.)
Smolder: The Tree brought us together
(Ocellus/Gallus/Silverstream carry a slab.)
Ocellus, Gallus, Silverstream: It brought us together
(Ocellus dumps her load onto a pile.)
Ocellus: And even though it’s gone
Ocellus, Gallus: Silverstream: Even though it’s gone
(The trio’s piece is swung up into view; zoom out to frame Gallus and Yona setting it and another one vertically into place against one another. The griffon brings out a roll of tape to bind the two hunks together, but fumbles the job and ends up secured to them in a tangle of strands.)
Gallus: Our monument to friendship
Ocellus, Silverstream: Our friendship
All six: Can make the gift live on
Brass, full percussion, guitar, bass, strings take over
(Ocellus and Silverstream find the two halves of the pink butterfly Kindness jewel and fit them back together.)
Ocellus: A piece from me, a piece from you
(They swiftly reassemble all the other Elements except for Magic, which is nowhere in sight.)
Silverstream: We’ll use the Tree and we’ll make do
(Gallus and Smolder start fitting together a rough frame; one side falls loose, but they lift it back into place and Gallus squirts glue onto one joint from a tube.)
Gallus: If things don’t fit, there’s lots of glue
(Ocellus is more than a little concerned upon comparing the work so far against the blueprint, but her mood improves once the others gather in.)
All six: Friends don’t quit in the end, and together we’ll see this through
Brass out; mandolin/flute in
(Smolder digs a hole with a trowel so Sandbar can replant his sapling.)
Smolder: It’s hard to say farewell
Sandbar: To something you hold dear
Ocellus, Sandbar, Silverstream: But goodbye isn’t forever
(Ocellus waters it.)
All six: As long as we are here
Vocal harmonies behind lyrics; brass in; mandolin/flute out; intensity builds
(Holding a coil of rope, Ocellus throws one stone-weighted end up toward a pulley on the ceiling. It threads through a hook and is caught by a hovering Gallus, and both flyers haul on the line to hoist up a Tree limb on which Gallus and Silverstream are riding.)
All six: The Tree is in our memory
(Wipe behind them to the nearly-empty cart; Yona retrieves a piece and sets it in place to form part of a staircase, to which Ocellus tapes on a safety rail.)
Its roots have grown deep in our hearts
(Sandbar polishes a windowsill as Silverstream applies a coat of paint.)
Ocellus: Deep in our hearts
Sandbar, Silverstream: Deep in our hearts
(Smolder and Yona nail sheets of paneling, using hammer and cranium respectively, and the latter briefly knocks herself dizzy. The other four see to window and stair work.)
All six: Its branches raise our spirits, together we’re all bound
(Unable to reel in a pulley rope as she is, Ocellus takes on her giant insect form and hauls up a roof frame. The others’ faces and Gallus’s thumbs-up tell their approval, and Smolder hefts a piece and lifts off.)
Forever it stands, lost, but now it’s found
Harmonies out; piano in
(It is set in place as a roof plank, and Gallus is quick to tie it down.)
Smolder: So lift a beam and build it strong
(Silverstream flies by, toting a paintbrush, and accidentally nicks Yona’s tail with it while painting one wall.)
Silverstream: Work as a team, it won’t take long
Yona: Hey, Silverstream, I think that’s wrong
Gallus, Silverstream, Yona: We’ll live the dream and sing our song
(Ocellus strings up a line of pennants, back in her natural form; Sandbar and Smolder shingle the roof; Yona sets a ladder against a window; Gallus holds one last piece in place against the top of the stairs for Silverstream to tape down.)
All six: And make the Tree something all can see
In a place where we belong
Same brisk melody/instrumentation/tempo as at start, with mandolin and bass drum added
(Ocellus assembles the little tower of stones she was working on in Act Two, and she quickly joins the others as they cluster in around the blueprint in an overhead shot and slow zoom in. Cut to their perspective of the plans, which are lowered to give a full view of the end product—a clubhouse that would be hard put to pass any competent building inspection. It is built on a support slab, with a flight of stairs leading up to the door and attached platform and a second flight protruding from the roof to stop at a small observation post. Crystals hang in the side window, and pieces of wood have been added here and there to shore up the rickety construction.)
Sandbar: Well, what do you think?
(Cut to Gallus/Ocellus/Yona, whose faces give away their distinctly underwhelmed mindset.)
Ocellus: It’s, uh… (smiling weakly) …kinda messy.
(Cut to the observation post as a bat flies past.)
Smolder: (from o.s.) Yeah. (Tilt down from one section to another, a few drips of paint/glue coming free.) Like a bunch of different parts all smushed together.
(Back to the six, now all smiling.)
Silverstream: (hugging Sandbar/Smolder) Aw, it’s just like us!
Yona: (rolling up blueprint) Yona think it perfect.
Gallus: (crossing to treehouse) Let’s give it a try.
(The others follow him up the stairs, Silverstream—in the rear—bumping into Yona when the latter stops for a moment, no longer carrying the plans or wearing any paint on her rump. All laugh over the mishap as they explore the structure at every level, inside and out, but their grand tour is cut off by two simultaneous phenomena. One is a sustained tremor that shakes the entire Cave from top to bottom; the other is a sparkling glow that suffuses the treehouse.)
Sandbar: Whoa! What’s happening?
Ocellus: It looks like magic!
Smolder: Everycreature out!
(All six students vacate the premises as fast as wings and legs can move them, and are thus privy to an exceedingly clear view of the glimmering blue crystal monoliths that have begun to rise from the ground. The treehouse winds up completely hidden from view as the radiant light intensifies and the intrusions punch through the ceiling of the Cave; the amateur architects quickly cover/avert their faces for protection from both the brilliance and a shower of loose rocks. Once the eruption comes to a halt, the camera cuts to a long shot of the ravine and the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, a flare of white kindling near the ruins and growing to fill the screen with a blinding glare.)
(From this, fade in to a series of close-ups of the following. A group of mineral limbs stretching toward the sky and sprouting a canopy of blue/pink leaves…a broad trunk rising and forming a balcony with windows accented by hanging crystal ornaments…a gently looping set of stairs filling itself in over and around a ground-floor entrance. Cut to just inside the open entrance to the castle courtyard as the students fly/gallop in and stop short with a unison gasp, then cut to just behind them and tilt up slowly. Now standing on the grounds is a crystalline building incorporated into the trunk of a very new tree, with three levels of balconies/windows and sporting strings of hanging gems not unlike those that decorate the Castle of Friendship. The whole is surmounted by a domed roof that is framed by the sparkling boughs.)
All six: (awestruck, laughing) Whoa… (Close-up of Gallus.)
Gallus: How did that happen?
(As in the prologue, a flare of pinkish light stretches toward him from o.s. and Tree TS appears before the group. The opacity of her form and the steadiness of her body’s gleaming speak to her much-improved condition.)
Tree TS: (approaching them) Because of you. The spirit of the treehouse would have perished without your selfless deeds and caring. Whenever you seek solace, come here. (Cut to its upper reaches; she continues o.s.) Your friendship, and the friendship of future generations, will always be safe within these walls.
(Ground level again; she offers a last smile and is gone in a flash, and the door behind her swings open on its own. Behind the group, Twilight and Spike teleport in.)
Twilight: I felt a burst of magic all the way over at the School! Is everycreature okay? (All turn to her.)
Silverstream: A little confused, but definitely okay.
Twilight: (gasping) Where did this come from?
Smolder: We were kinda gonna ask you the same thing.
Spike: It looks like part of the Tree of Harmony—but how? (to Twilight) I thought it was destroyed.
Ocellus: It was, but when we used the broken parts to build something new, this happened.
(Twilight considers the end result for a long moment, then smiles.)
Twilight: The Tree has always been good at surprises. (She flies up toward the uppermost story.) When Starswirl planted the Tree seed, he didn’t even know what it would grow into. I guess the Tree’s still alive, changing and adapting to be whatever Equestria needs. (Gallus joins her in midair.)
Gallus: A cool place to hang out? (Twilight touches down.)
Twilight: Something tells me this is more than that. It seems the Elements of Harmony may still be with us in their own way.
(Spike wipes his forehead with a relieved sigh.)
Spike: That’s actually really reassuring. (Gallus descends to the group.)
Silverstream: But why did the Tree need our help to become something new?
Twilight: I’m not sure. If I had to guess— (Her perspective of the six.) —I’d say your friendship is more powerful than you know.
Yona: Oh, Yona know. Yona just need to remind friends. (Long shot of all eight.)
Spike: So, who’s gonna give us the tour?
(This inquiry is met with a round of chuckling deferrals and buck-passing.)
Twilight: (giggling) Why don’t we all go in…together?
(She starts toward the reincarnated, reconfigured, relocated Tree on this last word, and the others are quick to follow suit. Tilt up slowly along its height to the sound of their mingled laughter and fade to black.)
SPARKLE’S SEVEN
Story by Ashleigh Ball, Andrea Libman, Tabitha St. Germain, Tara Strong, Cathy Weseluck
Written by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Note: All lines marked with one asterisk (*) are delivered as a voice over.
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to the exterior of the School of Friendship during the day. Zoom in slowly as Spike flies into view, looping toward one of the upper windows with scroll in hand, then cut to Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer in the former’s office. She sits at her desk, hoofprint-signing her way through a stack of documents held in Starlight’s magic; when Spike bursts in from the hallway, all four eyes pop and the papers hit the floor.)
Spike: (excitedly) Twilight! Look at this scroll I just got!
(He lands and unrolls it, the camera zooming in to pick out two key features: a picture of a crown looking as if it were constructed from cardboard and aluminum foil, bearing an eight-pointed star, and Shining Armor’s cutie mark in a bottom corner. Twilight is all smiles in an instant, gasping and flaring her wings where she sits, and it takes her just slightly more time to fly across the office for a better look. Starlight puts her horn to work gathering up the dropped pages.)
Twilight: Do you know what this means?
Spike: Uh-huh. (Starlight crosses to them, papers put away.)
Starlight: Uh, I don’t. (peering at scroll) What’s so exciting about a toy crown?
Spike: (chuckling) Oh, this is no toy crown. It’s the hard-won helm of the Sibling Supreme!
Twilight: When Shining Armor and I were small, we competed over everything.
(A kite drifts partway past the camera and stops, the view wiping behind it to frame her filly self flying it in a meadow. She has the coiled line in her teeth and a diaper-clad Spike on her back. The breeze tosses her kite this way and that for a moment before a shield-shaped one flown by her brother knocks it aside, sporting the pink star of his cutie mark surrounded by a scatter of small blue ones. Filly TS shoots him a dirty look in response to his smugly raised eyebrow, shifts to dismay when her creation comes down on Baby SP’s head and tears apart, and ends up in a humoring smile at the mishap. Both siblings have their cutie marks.)
(Dissolve to an extreme close-up of a lump of clay being worked by Filly TS on a potter’s wheel powered by her magic. She quickly forms it into a decent pot and grins, even if the edge is still a bit rough; zoom out to frame Colt SA running a wheel of his own alongside. His attempt at a vessel disintegrates into a pile of mush, though, and she beams and points at it in triumph.)
(A grid chart divided horizontally into two sections—each bearing one sibling’s mark—floats past the camera and backs up, held in a magic aura. Behind its trailing edge, the view wipes to the Sparkle family at home, the matriarch maneuvering the page to hang up on a wall.)
* Twilight: To keep it friendly, our parents gave us gold stars every time we did something special.
(Each half of the chart receives one, whereupon the view undergoes a star wipe to a close-up of an apple, the transition working from the screen edges inward. As the camera zooms out to frame Filly TS and Colt SA at a picnic table outside, the elder levitates the fruit and splits it down the middle. Filly TS chomps down one half eagerly…)
* Twilight: Sharing…
(…but Colt SA takes notice of Baby SP, who has climbed up over the table edge, and divides his piece so both of them can eat. A gold star drifts past the camera; behind it, wipe to Filly TS galloping up to her house’s front doors where Mr. and Mrs. Sparkle are waiting with Baby SP. In her field is a scroll, which she opens to show a test paper decorated with gold stars and a smiley face for earning top marks.)
* Twilight: …getting good grades…
(She cranks off a high-wattage grin as Colt SA plods up in rather poorer spirits, floating a scroll of his own. This one is unfurled to show a test covered with red X’s and question marks; she winces and he avoids making eye contact with any of the others. Another star floats past the camera; behind it, wipe to the five in the living room. Colt SA telekinetically lifts a lamp off the wagon-wheel coffee table and speaks into it like a microphone as the other four watch from the couch, facing him.)
Twilight: (voice over, laughing a bit) …even telling a really funny joke.
(The audience erupts in laughter just before a star drops past the camera, wiping the view to a close-up of the chart. Both halves are crowded with starts, but Filly TS has the advantage by three.)
* Twilight: And at the end of each week…
(Zoom out as she and her brother study the page; she grins as his face falls.)
* Twilight: …we’d add up the stars.
(Tilt down to ground level, where Baby SP has been sitting and doodling on the wall with crayons. Now the adult Sparkles approach the three, the paterfamilias using his aura to support the crown seen in modern-day Spike’s scroll.)
* Twilight: The sibling with the most would win the crown of the Sibling Supreme— (It is placed on the violet noggin; zoom in as Filly TS grins in joyous triumph.) —and bragging rights ’til next time.
(The view dissolves from a close-up of the enraptured young visage to an identical shot of the full-grown Princess in the here and now. On the start of the next line, zoom out slightly to frame Starlight stepping up alongside.)
Starlight: Guess that explains your love of charts— (under her breath) —and so much else. (Odd look from Twilight, followed by a weak smile.)
Spike: (caressing scroll) I always wanted to be Sibling Supreme one day. (reading) “Meet me at Celestia’s castle to decide who deserves the crown once and for all.”
(Slightly crazed grins make their way onto both his face and Twilight’s, neither of them paying any heed to the befuddled look on Starlight’s.)
Twilight, Spike: Race you there!
(They gallop/sprint for the doors; cut to just outside the office doors, which are flung open so the pair can hurtle off down the hallway. Spike has taken wing again and stashed the scroll; both very nearly crash into a passing unicorn and startle her into dropping the books she holds in her power. These are lifted again as Starlight reopens one door and peeks out.)
Starlight: (calling after them) Guess I’ll…watch the School?
(The victim of the near miss trots disgustedly away as the view fades to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to a long shot of Canterlot during the day. Twilight and Spike fly madly into view toward the city; cut to just inside a set of closed doors within Canterlot Castle. These are magically opened from the other side so these two can continue their flight. Framed in a head-on shot, they drop to the floor and skid to a sudden, panicked stop as a gasp escapes Twilight’s throat. Cut to their perspective—they are in the throne room, and three ponies have planted themselves squarely in the middle of the floor. Two are Princesses Celestia and Luna, the younger sister considerably sourer of face than the older, while the third is Shining—wearing an insufferable smirk, his armor, and the Sibling Supreme crown in place of his helmet. Zoom in to a close-up of this last item, a gleam of light playing off the seamed foil surfaces, then cut to Twilight and Spike.)
Twilight: You’re wearing it?!
Shining: Look, I know you’ve always held a grudge because I left home with this. (He indicates it.)
Twilight: Grudge? Pffft! What grudge? Just because you’ve had it for way longer than you should have and I never got a chance to win it back. (Strained grin.)
Celestia: (crossing to Twilight/Spike) With the return of Sombra, Princess Luna and I felt it was time to reinforce the castle’s defenses.
Luna: (acidly) I said we could do it ourselves, but some ponies are a bit stubborn. (Celestia shoots her a hairy eyeball.)
Celestia: So I asked our old Captain of the Guard to handle the job. (Shining grins.)
Shining: I’ve taken the security here to a whole new level. (crossing to Twilight, tapping her chest) The only thing I need now is osmepony to test it.
Twilight: (gasping, shocked) You want me to break into Celestia’s castle?
Shining: (nodding) If you can get past my defenses, steal the crown, and get out, you’ll be Sibling Supreme forever.
(Accompanied by the following. Levitate the crown off his head; cut to the royal sisters’ thrones as it settles onto Celestia’s, then zoom out to frame him pointing at it as Celestia looks on. The next shot is a close-up of Twilight and slow zoom in, her pupils dilating to reflect the battered piece of regalia.)
Twilight: (totally enthralled) Forever…
Shining: (from o.s.) But… (Zoom out slightly; he leans in and she snaps back to herself.) …if you fail, I keep the crown.
Twilight: (shaking hooves with him) Deal! (Pause.) Wait. Are you sure this counts? Mom and Dad aren’t giving us any stars.
Celestia: (from o.s.) I will represent their authority. (Cut to her and Luna.) And thank you, Twilight. Your help will reveal if there are any holes in our security. (Luna huffs contemptuously.)
Shining: (to Twilight) And there aren’t. I’ve designed a multi-tiered, impenetrable, triple-backed-up line of defense.
(A closed trunk floats up to fill the screen and backs away, held in his magic. Behind it, the view changes to put him and Starswirl the Bearded in the courtyard outside. On the start of the next line, the white unicorn sets the trunk on the grass and flips it open so he can show off the full load of dark rock fragments it contains. He is now wearing the helmet to go with his armor.)
* Shining: The castle’s surrounded by shards of Queen Chrysalis’s throne. (Starswirl floats them out; zoom out to a long shot.) Thanks to Starswirl, its anti-magic powers are now tuned to stop anycreature from using a spell to get inside.
(During this second sentence, the old mage’s field whirls the bits around the structure at increasing speed until they become a close-fitting network of white beams. These fade from sight, after which a battlement slides into view to fill the screen and.)
* Shining: You can’t fly in, either.
(A unicorn Royal Guard member levitates a large pole-mounted fan into position and starts it up. Zoom out to frame other such units now set up on rooftops/balconies and going full tilt.)
* Shining: Giant fans keep anycreature from flying too close to the castle.
(A passing bird learns this the hard way when the air currents send it tumbling with a squawk. Now several bricks fall into view, forming a wall as they fill the screen; zoom out to frame Shining and a pegasus guard looking on as one of the unicorn troops puts on the finishing touches. The new bit of masonry is blocking up an archway set in an exterior wall, the hapless bird tottering dizzily past on the nearby grass. Shining takes his leave following a round of salutes; on the next line, tilt quickly down through the earth to an underground passage within Canterlot Castle. Two unicorn guards make short work of bricking up the archway at the bottom of a staircase, then salute at Shining’s approach.)
* Shining: Plus, the entrances to the tunnels below the castle have been sealed, so there’s no underground access.
(Tilt up quickly to a corridor; as he walks past three guards for an inspection, that many again zip out of doorways to stand at attention.)
* Shining: And even if you could get in, which you can’t, I’ve doubled the ranks of security. (He moves on, finding plenty of others in the entrance hall.) Ponies protect every hallway and door, which can only be opened with Royal Guard medals.
(Stopping at one set of doors, he magically removes the crest from the breastplate of his armor and touches it to one of the three jewels mounted in a vertical panel next to the frame. They swing open, the crest goes back on, and he strides confidently through. Dissolve to the party of five in the throne room, Shining without his helmet again.)
Shining: (leading others up ramp toward thrones) Even if you brought an army, the throne room is the safest spot in Equestria.
(Once on the top level of the dais, he steps aside and gestures toward a large trapdoor visible only as a faint pair of adjacent square outlines on the floor.)
Shining: I rigged a floor trap to activate at the slightest touch.
(A bit of gentle pressure from one hoof, and the hatches drop open to expose the start of a stone-lined shaft. Cut to a point several yards down, the camera aimed upward to capture Twilight and Spike when they peek into the aperture with a grimace. They are soon joined by the vigilant older brother.)
Shining: (echoing slightly) But say you avoid the floor. (The room again; he is heard normally.) Still no luck, because I’ve employed nature’s alarm system.
(The camera zooms out on this last to frame the tops of the room’s support columns; from behind these, several hostile-looking birds put their heads out. Pink-striped white feathers; white/pink wings; broad pink beaks with rounded ends; beady red eyes with yellowed whites. In no time flat, they have launched into a cacophony of loud, grating honks.)
Spike: Geese?
Shining: (leaning against Celestia’s throne) You can hear their honks all the way in Ponyville.
(One puts its head up from behind the crown and tries to bite him; he hurriedly withdraws his foreleg.)
Shining: Plus, they bite. (Fearful chuckle.)
(Cut to a close-up of Twilight and zoom in slowly as she rubs her chin in the deepest of thought. Behind her, the background dissolves to a blackboard on which notes and figures fade in and out for some time. The camera pivots around her as she runs an eye over the lot, which includes several items taped to the boards—a set of blueprints and photos of her own cutie mark and those of her friends.)
Twilight: So that’s what we’re up against.
(Longer shot: she is in the throne room of the Castle of Friendship, as are Spike and her usual five partners in world-saving. Easels, drawing boards, and chalkboards line the perimeter; masses of photos and notes have been stuck up on the walls, and the floor and central table are littered with books, scrolls, and papers. All except Twilight and Spike are seated on their thrones. Surprised little exhalation from Applejack.)
Applejack: That’s a barrel and a half of obstacles— (Cut to her and Rarity.) —plus a bushel and a peck of impenetrability.
Rarity: And all of this is to win some filly-hood competition with your brother?
Twilight: (magically closing/tossing a book, jumping to table) It’s more than that! (Pause.) Okay, it’s exactly that.
(Hovering backwards, she uses her magic to bring in a side table that holds a cardboard model of Canterlot Castle, held together with an excess of tape and glue.)
Twilight: (grinning shakily) And to protect Celestia’s castle.
Fluttershy: If it means that much to you, Twilight, we’re in.
Pinkie Pie: I was already in! Come on. (Rainbow Dash grins.) Who doesn’t want to hang with geese?
Rainbow: Of course we’ll help—but how?
Spike: (flying up, landing on table) Shining Armor may have come up with some great security— (Twilight steps to the edge.) —but he’ll never guess Twilight’s plan.
Twilight: (leaning over table) We play to our strengths, and defeat all of the security measures. That way, if one of us fails, the others will still have a shot at getting the crown. Pinkie… (Pan quickly to that mare; she continues o.s.) …you’ll distract the guards with a surprise party.
Pinkie: (saluting) Yes, sir, Twilight, sir!
(As each of the next four mares is addressed, the screen splits vertically to frame her.)
Twilight: (from o.s.) Applejack, you’ll buck your way into the sealed tunnels. (Massage an orange-tan hind leg.) Rainbow Dash, if anypony can out-fly those wind turbines, it’s you. (Cocky grin/wink/point.) Rarity, you’ll sew us guard costumes so we can sneak past security. (A toss of the immaculate purple mane.) Then Fluttershy will disable the throne room alarm by charming the geese.
(The yellow pegasus’ excited little claps are interrupted by a loud belch and a wisp of sparkly smoke that rises into view before the five. This solidifies into a scroll, caught by Spike’s hand extending upward into view, and all ten eyes go very wide. Cut to a fullscreen view of the dragon as he lands on his throne, having unsealed the missive he has just burped up.)
Spike: It’s from Shining Armor. (reading, as Twilight crosses to him) “Dear Twilie: Hope your idea isn’t just…” (She sits; he mumbles his way through several lines.) “…tunnels”? He guessed your whole plan!
Twilight: What?!?
(Her power snatches the letter away so she can skim through it.)
Twilight: Pinkie, party; Rarity, costumes… (reading) …“Signed, the future Sibling Supreme”?! (It hits the table.) Oh, come on!
(She slumps in her seat with a petulant grumble as Spike despondently lays his head on the table.)
Rarity: (from o.s., floating letter away) Twilight, darling… (Cut to her.) …nopony knows you better than your own brother.
Twilight: So you’re saying I should give up?
Rarity: (gesturing with rolled-up scroll) I’m saying your brother will win. (Zoom in slowly.) No matter how brilliant your plan is, no matter how many variations you try, it will be something your brother expects! And he’ll always win— (slyly) —unless…
(She stands up and begins to pace around the table, leaving the scroll behind.)
Rarity: …when the perfect chance comes along, you do something he can’t expect! (Stop; point at Twilight.) Then you’ll win.
Spike: (dryly) You’ve been practicing that speech, haven’t you?
Rarity: A little bit. It felt like I rushed. Did I rush it?
Applejack: (shaking head, slightly strained smile) Absolutely not.
Fluttershy: Oh, no.
Pinkie: Yeah, it was fast-ish.
Rarity: We have to do the opposite of what Shining Armor expects. Therefore, Twilight cannot mastermind the plan…
(The local Princess reacts as if she has just had a barrel of pudding dumped into her bathtub, and the view constricts to a diagonal stripe that frames the white mare’s half-crazed visage.)
Rarity: …but I can!
(Fullscreen: this hard left turn has completely floored the other four ponies.)
Applejack: That’s…definitely unexpected.
(Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to an overhead shot of the cluttered throne room and zoom in slowly.)
Rainbow: Uh…how is you making a break-in plan the opposite of Twilight doing it? (Table-side.)
Rarity: Because my plan is for each of us to devise our own unexpected part of it. Allow me to demonstrate.
(Zoom in to an extreme close-up of her horn as she fires it up. The glare subsides to frame a black-and-white close-up of a hanging overhead lamp that buzzes and swing creakily back and forth. Zoom out; it is one of several throwing inadequate illumination over a barroom full of ponies drinking, gambling, arguing, romancing. A winged shadow passes the front window and throws the door open to show itself as Rainbow—now wearing a suit jacket, dress shirt, tie, and bowler hat. The place goes dead silent at her entrance, and she runs a hard eye over the patrons while moving aside to let Rarity step in. The unicorn is channeling her inner Shadow Spade as she did in “Rarity Investigates!”, based on the tone of her voice and her use of the trenchcoat and broad-brimmed hat she wore in that episode.)
Rarity: We’re looking for a pony with information.
(The crowd clears out in much less time than it takes to say “liquor raid”—all, that is, except for the stallion tending bar. He polishes the countertop as the two detectives seat themselves on the two closest stools.)
Rainbow: We got questions, and you’re gonna serve us up some answers, juice jockey!
Rarity: Where is the secret entrance to the passages under Canterlot Castle?
Bartender: (shrugging) Shining Armor sealed ’em all. There’s no secret entrance. (Rarity leans hard into his face.)
Rarity: There’s always a secret entrance! (Rainbow hauls him up by his shirt front.)
Rainbow: So make like a glass of OJ and spill!
(Orange juice, that is. A miniature, full-color Pinkie disrupts the interrogation by hopping into the bar from o.s.)
Pinkie: Ooh, ooh, ooh! I know what I can do!
(One mighty leap carries her up to the top right corner of the screen, and she yanks it down and away as if tearing off a sheet of wallpaper. The result is to change the scene to a stretch of clouds in the night sky, with full color restored.)
* Pinkie: You’re gonna need a lookout, so I can be your eye in the sky.
(A simplified image of the pink nut dangles upside-down into view from one top corner. She is wearing a full-body jumpsuit, goggles, and a transparent domed helmet that causes her words to reverberate slightly.)
Pinkie: (waving) Too low, silly! Up here!
(She hoists herself out of view; pan/tilt up through the clouds and stars to follow both her and her pet alligator Gummy—also suited up—as they cavort among the heavenly bodies. Pinkie leaps away to slide around the ring of one planet, which rotates to present a genial, laughing face as she walks backward on her hind legs.)
Planet: (male voice) Oh, Pinkie, that tickles!
(She adds her giggles to his as the view dissolves to a close-up of her at the throne room’s central table, forelegs raised in sheer bliss. Lowering them, she finds herself facing a round of deeply puzzled stares. Long pause, then a close-up.)
Pinkie: Whaaaaaat? (Cut to frame Applejack on the next line.)
Applejack: How about somethin’ a little more down-to-earth? Like… (Zoom in slowly.) …I distract the guard ponies with a farewell performance by my alter ego, famous country-western superstar Apple Chord!
(Twilight and Spike trade a glance that gives away their lack of comprehension.)
Twilight: I didn’t know you had an alter ego. And why would she be giving a farewell performance?
Applejack: (blushing) Well, it’s a long story.
(She pulls her hat forward over her eyes. Zoom in to a close-up and dissolve to a sepia-toned, slightly scratchy image of her sitting in front of the main barn at Sweet Apple Acres. However, a backward tip of the chapeau reveals her now as a filly, with her mane cut short and not tied back. A zoom out puts an acoustic guitar in her hooves, a hay bale under her rump and still-long, tied-back tail, and an audience of three in front of her: Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, and a baby Apple Bloom on his back. They sway to the rhythm of her quiet melody, which sounds as if it is being played from a phonograph record with a few scratches.)
* Applejack: Back on the farm, playin’ music was about makin’ her family smile.
(Zoom out slightly. A few other ponies have wandered in and are enjoying the show, and Granny picks up a decorated cowboy hat in her teeth and removes the plain one that Filly AJ—or Apple Chord, in this case—is wearing. The new one is plunked on to cover her face in close-up. On the next line, she flips it back to expose a longer mane done in a bouffant, and the camera zooms out to put her on a small outdoor stage among the apple trees and performing for a good-sized crowd.)
* Applejack: Word of her talent spread, and soon Apple Chord was playin’ real shows.
(Cheers; she twirls in close-up, the camera zooming out on the next line. Now she is playing to a packed house in a theater and wearing a sequined jumpsuit. The birdcatcher spots have faded from the bridge of her nose, marking her growth, and the body of her guitar is now decorated with an apple and musical notes.)
* Applejack: The more she played, the bigger those shows got.
(The fading of Chord’s smile serves as a counterpoint to the wild applause that drifts her way, and she sits glumly down in the spotlight.)
* Applejack: But she missed playin’ for her family.
(Once the light goes out, the musical mare touches a hoof to her image in a backstage mirror, having put her guitar aside.)
* Applejack: So one day— (Turn aside; the hat and jumpsuit are flung into a trash can.) —she gave it all up.
(Chord trots to a door, guitar on back, and knocks it open to exit into the streets of Ponyville. Her mane has grown to its present length and tied-back style. She hops onto the hay bales in front of the Sweet Apple Acres barn and begins to play for her original audience, whose members sway just as they did before. On the next line, Granny nips up the original brown hat and plunks it over the prodigal granddaughter’s face, completing Chord’s return to her true identity as Applejack.)
* Applejack: Seein’ her family smile was all she ever wanted from her music.
(Around a close-up of her half-hidden features, the background dissolves back to the throne room and full color reasserts itself.)
Applejack: (tipping hat back; zoom out slowly.) Of course, Apple Chord could come out of retirement for a farewell concert this one time. (Smirk.)
Rainbow: Wait. Did you just make all that up, or did that actually happen?
Applejack: (evasively, averting her eyes) Ummm…
Rarity: (standing up in her seat) Doesn’t matter. It’s perfect! Fluttershy? Spike? (Cut to Fluttershy.)
Fluttershy: Well, I guess the opposite of what I’m good at is… (Gasp; hunch down shivering in fear.) …being in small spaces.
(Zoom out to frame Spike on the start of the next line.)
Spike: I always wanted to be a super-spy. Is that the opposite of anything?
(A length of plumbing pipe zips past the camera; behind it, wipe to a cramped ventilation duct bristling with pipes, valves, and wires. Fluttershy and Spike crawl into view, both wearing dark bodysuits and eye masks, and the little guy hustles ahead to a grate.)
Spike: Special Agent Fluttershy…
(He opens it to reveal the Canterlot Castle throne room beneath the duct—and a network of sweeping laser beams set up as an intrusion countermeasure.)
Spike: …target detected below!
(Zoom in quickly to a close-up of the crown on Celestia’s seat, then cut back to the pair.)
Fluttershy: It’s almost too easy.
(A fluid drop and a series of agile bobs and weaves bring her to the dais without incident, and one well-timed kick sends the crown sailing up toward the ceiling. Spike flies out of the grate to catch the thing, then uses it to reflect the beams back so that they blow out the emitters. As Fluttershy steps down from the dais, he tosses the crown overhead so that it knocks out the last two lasers and lands on her head, generating a sizable explosion against which the two coolly exit the room. The smoke clouds fill the screen and clear to frame Spike lost in the grandeur of his imagined exploits, while a perplexed Twilight cocks one eyebrow in his general direction. She holds the pose for a moment before shifting to a smile and a noncommittal “oh, well” grunt and shrug.)
Twilight: I guess I’m the only one left that still needs a plan. (Cut to Rarity, at the blackboards, on the start of the next line.)
Rarity: (laughing airily) Oh, no, darling. That is the plan. You shall do nothing.
(The Princess pulls in a lung-bursting gasp of purest shock and claps a hoof to her chest.)
Spike: (dryly) Shining Armor definitely won’t expect that.
(Dissolve to a close-up of one tower in Canterlot Castle and zoom out. The fans in Shining’s defense plan have been cranked up to full speed, Royal Guard detachments keep watch from air and ground and battlement, and a helmeted Shining sternly regards the troops from a balcony before retreating within. A curtained stage is wheeled into view in the courtyard, whose guards get a split-second view of Applejack—now dressed/styled as Chord—darting behind it and climbing its steps to disappear from sight. The curtains are pulled open to frame the farmer with guitar in hoof; her jumpsuit is green and white, with a blooming pink flower on the haunch, and the hat is pink with white trim. Zoom in to a close-up as she offers a dazzling grin.)
Shining: Applejack? (He gallops down and pushes his way up to the stage.) What are you doing?
(She adopts an exaggerated version of her natural Southern drawl and keeps it firmly in place until further notice.)
Applejack: Applejack? (Laugh.) Who’s that? My name’s Apple Chord— (sitting on haunches) —and I’ve got a coupla songs to play for you. (winking) Clap your hooves if you know ’em. (stomping time) And a-one, and a-two, and a…
Cheerful country-tinged acoustic guitar melody, moderate 4 (C major)
(Long shot of the stage, zooming out slowly as more guards congregate in front.)
Applejack: My love is like a barrel, a barrel fulla hay
Music stops with the next cut
(Cut to the road leading to Canterlot. The group’s hot-air balloon is parked here; Fluttershy and Pinkie are aboard, Rainbow studies a map, and Spike lets the breeze turn the stick-mounted pinwheel he holds. He and Fluttershy are now dressed in goggles and dark gray hooded sweatshirts with ears stitched onto the hoods—bunny for Fluttershy, dragon for Spike—and gray gloves cover the clawed violet hands. The balloon’s burner fires up, Rainbow unhooks a mooring line from a stake in the ground, and Spike climbs aboard as Rainbow hovers to keep pace with the rising basket. Now Gummy can be seen riding with the group, and Spike’s goggles hang around his neck. The hop picks out his gray, paw-like shoes.)
Rainbow: The Wonderbolts did a fly-by, and the only way past those giant fans and into the castle ducts is here.
(She indicates a particular spot on her map at the end of this. Cut to her, Fluttershy, and Spike.)
Rainbow: But there’s no room for mistakes!
Pinkie: (from o.s., reverberating) Just like space travel!
(All three turn in her direction; pan to frame her, now wearing a glass fishbowl as a helmet and plunking one onto her pet’s head. Now Fluttershy’s dark gray shorts and lighter-colored utility belt and paw shoes can be seen. The reverb stays on Pinkie’s voice until further notice.)
Fluttershy: Uh, Pinkie? We’re not actually going into space, right?
Pinkie: (laughing, patting Fluttershy’s head) No, silly! I’m dropping you two off as soon as we’re close to the fans. Then I’m going into space!
(The balloon drifts upward among the spires; meanwhile, Twilight paces worriedly outside in the courtyard below and runs into Shining without looking where she is going. He has removed his helmet.)
Shining: (suspiciously) You’re up to something, Twilie.
Twilight: (smiling smugly, levitating a flower) Nope, just looking at the flowers. (Sniff; contented sigh.)
Shining: (edging away) Riiiiiight.
(He gives her one last wary glare, which she counters with a smile and wave before turning away and dropping the bloom.)
Twilight: (giddily, to herself) Ooooh, maybe Rarity’s plan will work!
Pinkie: (from o.s. above, panicked) Canterlot!
(Purple eyes flick skyward; tilt up quickly to the balloon, now punctured and veering madly through the air. Pinkie and Gummy are now the only passengers, and Rainbow has cleared out.)
Pinkie: We have a problem!
(Twilight takes wing after the screaming pink mare as the craft carries her past the stage, where Applejack has just finished a song.)
Applejack: I know that one’s a crowd favorite. What say we play it one more time? (stomping time) And a-one, and a-two, and a…
(Pinkie screams her way through a low-altitude pass, followed by Twilight, and is soon caught up in the airflow from the fans. Zoom in on Applejack as she aims a slightly frustrated glower after them.)
Applejack: (to herself, own voice) A distraction’s a distraction.
(Pressing a hoof on the guitar’s bridge causes two jointed metal arms to extend from the sound hole and push the strings out of the way so a suction cup on a line can fire out between them. It connects with the star-shaped medallion on one guard’s breastplate and pulls it away, and Applejack doffs her hat just long enough to catch the item under its crown. The suction cup retracts into the guitar, and the arms release the strings and retract into the body. Behind her, Twilight flies backward and out of sight around a corner, towing the deflated balloon in her magic and dumping it, Pinkie, and Gummy in the grass.)
Twilight: Where’s Spike and Fluttershy? (Pinkie sits up.) Did they make it into the castle?
Pinkie: They jumped out right before the balloon went—
(An extended raspberry serves as a stand-in for the escaping air, but a fair bit of saliva accompanies it and builds up in her fishbowl helmet.)
Pinkie: (petulantly) But that’s all I could see without being in space, where I didn’t get to go! (Pout.)
Twilight: Let’s hope Rarity and Rainbow Dash had better luck.
(Dissolve to these two making their way down a Canterlot street, Rarity dressed in the Shadow Spade ensemble she imagined herself wearing in the earlier planning session. They stop before a building tucked into a shadowy nook between its taller neighbors; cut to a close-up of its door. Hanging here is a sign showing a time clock with movable hands, the sort used to indicate when an absent proprietor will return.)
Rarity: (from o.s., pointing at it) What’s this? (Head-on view of the pair; she reacts with disbelief.) “Closed”?!
Passerby: Huh. The seedy juice joint is always closed around this time.
Rarity: (shaking him by his shirt front) Then how are we meant to shake down ne’er-do-wells for information?!?
Passerby: What sorta information do you need?
Rainbow: Um, the location to a secret entrance to the passages under Canterlot Castle.
Passerby: (pointing) You mean that one?
(Rarity turns to follow his gesture, the camera panning to frame two pegasus guards on sentry duty in front of the bricked-up entrance that Shining described in Act One. Zoom in on these, then cut back to the less-than-effective inquisition; Rarity offers an apologetic grin and lets go of the stallion.)
Rarity: (straightening his bow tie) Yes, thank you. That will do nicely.
(She sets off toward it, trailed by Rainbow; cut to a patch of bushes as they dive behind it for cover, on the side facing the camera. They risk a glance over the leaves, the camera tilting up to frame two ponies coming in for a landing before the guards. One is Luna, while the other is Fluttershy’s younger brother Zephyr Breeze, last seen in “Flutter Brutter.” He wears the gold armor of the Royal Guard, but the messy topknot of his blond mane protrudes from the slot on his helmet instead of being hidden by a crest. The pegasi on duty salute and fly away; close-up of Luna, looking around herself with a satisfied smile as Zephyr takes up the post and salutes, then back to Rainbow and Rarity.)
Rainbow: Zephyr Breeze?!?
Rarity: (chuckling) Oh, darling. This couldn’t be more perfect. (She ducks away, dragging Rainbow with her.)
Rainbow: How is this perfect? He’s the most annoying pony in Equestria— (pulling at her lower eyelids) —and he’s totally obsessed with me, and we have to come up with a way to distract—
(She cuts herself off upon seeing the brows above the bright blue eyes twitch knowingly upward, and is not at all happy to figure out exactly what Rarity has in mind.)
Rainbow: Ohhh, no. Oh, no, no—no way, uh-uh!
(The view pivots 180 degrees around an imaginary vertical line through its center to bring up an image of a transformed Rainbow. Blue-violet eyeshadow; purple heart-shaped earrings and pendant necklace; magenta gown; part of her mane braided; the rest swept into a style that recalls a Royal Guard helmet crest. A zoom out frames short sleeves and silver shoes for her forelegs and the silver trim/accents on the gown. Rarity claps her approval of the makeover, sitting on her haunches, while its subject/victim wears an expression suggesting that she would rather chug down a barrel of toxic waste. She sighs heavily and lets her wings droop.)
(The green slacker has removed his helmet and is touching up his mane with a bit of saliva licked onto a hoof. Here comes a most unwilling Rainbow, pushed in by Rarity’s magic.)
Zephyr: Wha—? (brightening, donning helmet) Rainbow! I knew you’d come running when you heard I got this job. (buffing breastplate, winking) The mares love a pony in uniform, am I right?
Rainbow: (sourly) Not really.
(The sleuth who put her in this mess peeks up over the bushes to wave her off frantically, followed by a coquettish bat of the eyelashes and a flat-eyed stare as if to say, “Get on with it!” Rolling her eyes in disgust, Rainbow injects as much animation into her voice and face as she can.)
Rainbow: I mean, uh, totally! Why don’t you step into the light so I can see how…uh…handsome you look in it?
(She plods away, Zephyr following, and Rarity picks up one of the bushes and maneuvers it toward the bricks while staying as far out of sight as possible. Once the coast is clear, the unicorn jumps out and runs her front hooves over the barrier for a few moments. Focusing her magic on one particular brick, she wrenches it out with some effort; a grin comes over the white face, and she begins tearing others loose. The next words throw a real scare into her, and the camera pans away to frame the speaker and a thoroughly bored Rainbow on the next line.)
Zephyr: I told the sarge that gold kinda clashes with my aura, but apparently they aren’t big on input. Still, I totally manage to rock the look, don’t you think?
Rainbow: (forcing a grin) Yep. You’re real guard material. (Both start to walk, Rainbow out ahead.)
Zephyr: I’m part of the castle team now, so I’m basically—
(He inadvertently treads on the hem of her gown, causing her to stumble.)
Zephyr: Whoa! We got a swooner!
(He catches her just short of the ground and adopts his best “come-hither” expression and voice.)
Zephyr: It’s good you’re finally being honest with your feelings for me, Rainbows.
(Although this bit of unwanted flirting very nearly makes “Rainbows” lose her breakfast, she manages to get her gag reflex under control.)
Zephyr: (pacing ahead, as she stands up) The truth is such a gift. Like, I had to follow my bliss to see guarding is my calling.
(Caught up in his own story, he fails to notice that Rainbow has stopped following. The mare glances back across the courtyard; cut to just behind her, facing a new and sizable hole in the brick wall. Rarity straightens up into view from the steps leading down to it from ground level and beckons her friend in.)
Zephyr: (from o.s.) Like, look at me go. (Him and Rainbow again.) I’m gonna walk over here and I go, “Whoo! Over there!” And I go, “Yeah.” And sometimes I gotta stand like this and look real cool, and I go down the hallway and go…
(This off-the-wall job description is accompanied by a string of bravado-infused gestures and turns, ending with a few grunts in time with marching steps. As before, Rainbow’s surreptitious exit completely eludes his attention. Cut to the other side of the undone wall, where she and Rarity are descending a staircase whose walls are choked with spiderwebs, then wipe to the throne room. Not a single living soul is present within the walls except for the geese that are part of Shining’s defenses, snoozing atop the columns. Beyond the walls is an entirely different issue, though; two shadows begin climbing down the outside surface of the great circular stained-glass window above the thrones, and a close-up picks them out as Fluttershy and Spike. One clawed finger cuts a circle through the glass, and the piece slides free and is caught just in time by a gasping Spike, who now has his goggles on. Pan quickly to several geese, one of which stirs briefly from its nap before settling back down. Spike voices a relieved sigh as Fluttershy peeks in over his shoulder.)
Fluttershy: (hushed) We’ll have to glide to the throne. No flapping.
(A nod from her co-conspirator, and the two leap in through the hole with wings spread to full extension. One wide, gently descending loop…another…and then a goose puts its head up from behind the crown and fixes its red eyes on them with a threatening growl. Spike, who has put aside the cut window section, slams on the brakes and is hit from behind by a gasping Fluttershy; both tumble from the air, waking up the rest of the avians within seconds. Down they come in a tide of angry honks, closing in on the two infiltrators who have landed on the dais. Fluttershy has barely enough time to take one step backwards before its trapdoor opens to dump them out of sight. The geese continue their aural fusillade after it has closed again, and even through the opening of one door so Luna can put her head in.)
Luna: (voice raised) Sister! Another false alarm from Shining Armor’s guard geese!
(She leaves, closing the door behind herself; cut to Celestia and Shining on a balcony outside, the stallion once again decked out in his helmet. Twilight, hiding around a corner, sees the Princess enter the building and turns away in a tizzy.)
Twilight: We should’ve heard by now! Something must’ve gone wrong!
Pinkie: (from o.s.) Probably several somethings.
(The fishbowl-induced reverb is now gone from her voice. Cut to her and Applejack on the grass a short distance away; the pink pony sits holding the limp balloon and no longer wears her makeshift helmet, and the orange-tan one has ditched her guitar but still wears her Chord getup. The hole in the canopy has been taped over, and one mighty lungful of air is all she needs to re-inflate it halfway; she grins as Twilight turns away with a scared grimace.)
Twilight: No lookout, no distraction, and no word from the ponies inside. I’m starting to think this whole operation might be a giant flop!
(The screen behind her tiles itself with images of her friends as follows. “No lookout”: Pinkie at top left. “No distraction”: Applejack at bottom right, with her guitar. “And no word…”: a puzzled Rainbow and Rarity at bottom left, the former out of her overdone temptress getup, and a freaked-out Fluttershy and stoic Spike at top right, sitting at the bottom of the shaft under the dais. She chews her lip, one frayed neuron away from a complete nervous breakdown, and the view fades to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the dais. Shining, sans helmet, gets the clamoring geese in his field; tilt down quickly into the shaft and stop on Fluttershy and Spike at the bottom. The yellow pegasus scrabbles wildly at the walls, hyperventilating as Spike regards her levelly.)
Fluttershy: Oh, no! (She settles down and shivers, hooves over eyes.)
Spike: Gee, Fluttershy, I thought your whole “small spaces” thing was just part of the plan to be unexpected. (Fluttershy uncovers her face.)
Fluttershy: Once I got trapped in the Castle of the Two Sisters, and Angel bunny and I were separated. Now whenever I’m in a tiny room, it’s all I can think about. (voice shaking) I was so worried he felt alone and forgotten.
(A reference to the events of “Castle Mane-ia.” She finishes by crumpling into a terrified little heap.)
Spike: (pensively) I know what that’s like. (Fluttershy sits up.)
Fluttershy: What do you mean? (Zoom in slowly on Spike.)
Spike: I was always excited to be a part of Twilight’s and Shining Armor’s rivalry— (smiling) —like I was their little brother. (Face falls.) But they never really thought of me that way. (Zoom out.)
Fluttershy: (crossing to him, sitting) I know they both have a special place in their heart for you. But sibling dynamics are hard. Trust me.
Spike: Right. Zephyr Breeze.
Fluttershy: (patting his shoulder) Honestly, he can learn a lot from you about being a little brother.
(A great grinding of stone on stone shakes the entire chamber; cut to one wall, which parts to expose Rainbow and Rarity in a tunnel on the other side. The blue daredevil has triggered the exit by pulling on a wall-mounted sconce and is back to her normal self, as seen at the end of Act Two.)
Rarity: (really fed up) I am sick of being locked in these slimy corridors too! But you shouldn’t pull every lever you come across! Half of them are traps!
Rainbow: And the other half might open a secret passage to the castle!
(Neither of them notices the emergence of the two captives on the end of this exchange.)
Rarity: It’s not worth the risk! (brightly, noticing them) Oh, hello, Spike. (snippy, to Rainbow) Even if we did find our way back to the castle, we’d still have all of those guar—
(Now, and only now, does her brain finish processing the data relayed to it by her eyes. Both organs tell the mouth to shut its trap, and she and Rainbow turn to face their teammates.)
Rarity: Spike? Fluttershy?! (They cross to her and get a big hug.)
Rainbow: Uh, what are you guys doing down here?
Spike: We, uh, kind of fell through the floor.
Fluttershy: I don’t think our plan is working. (Rainbow drops out of her hover.)
Rarity: We’ve both hit dead ends. Perhaps we should return to the outside and re-evaluate.
(She has barely turned away before a great many mice scamper across in front of her; voicing a sound of high-octane revulsion, she leads the other four along once they have cleared out. Wipe to an overhead shot of the courtyard and zoom in slowly as a high-strung Twilight paces before Applejack and Pinkie; the balloon and guitar are gone, and the winged unicorn is hyperventilating in fine form. In close-up, she stops at a distance and sweats buckets while gnawing a hoof and glancing back at a re-helmeted Shining on the balcony.)
Spike: (from o.s.) Pssssst!
(She nearly breaks her neck swiveling toward his voice and finds a small ventilation grate at the base of a wall. This is swung open from inside so her number-one assistant can wave her over; cut to a close-up of the worried mare and zoom out as she crosses. The motion backs the camera up through the grate and frames the four under the floor, and Twilight hunches down to look them straight on.)
Twilight: What are you all doing out here? (Profile of all five, Spike with goggles around neck.)
Rarity: (sheepishly) In retrospect, our plan might have been too unexpected. (Lame grin; Twilight gasps in fright.)
Twilight: Every part of it failed? (hooves to temples, falling on back as Applejack/Pinkie approach) Oh, now I’ll never get the crown! (Spike climbs out.)
Spike: Maybe we should go back to doing things the Twilight way.
Twilight: (very snarky, standing up) You mean the totally expected way?
Spike: It may not be a surprise, but you have a pretty good record for planning things.
(Two nods from the mares on the surface and three from the ones below it confirm his analysis, and she smiles.)
Twilight: Then I guess it’s worth a try. (patting Spike’s head) Thanks, Spike.
Spike: (arms spread for a hug) What are little brothers for?
Twilight: (turning away) Okay! (Her response stuns him.) You all know what to do!
(Wipe to a long shot of the castle entrance and balcony and zoom in slowly; Shining has quit the area, but plenty of Royal Guards are still on the job. Close-up of two on the balcony, reacting with total bewilderment as a shadow throws itself across them; it proves to be the fully repaired and inflated balloon, on whose canopy Gummy has clamped his jaws. The basket is piled high with presents and has had a megaphone mounted on the rail; once it is nearly at balcony height, the canopy explodes in a storm of confetti and magenta smoke. Behind the rain of colorful paper bits, the view wipes to show the courtyard rapidly filling with gifts and balloons, with assorted refreshments laid out on tables and pennants strung overhead. The two guards, having taken cover behind the battlements, peek cautiously up, then look to each other, and break into broad smiles and gallop for the steps. Within moments, every soldier in the immediate vicinity is getting into the spirit of this unscheduled party—but a hanging piñata slowly turns on its rope to reveal Pinkie under the papier-mâché. She taps a large box, whose side flips up under Rarity’s magical control so she can step out—now wearing a replica of the guards’ gold armor and the star medallion that Applejack swiped during her Act Two performance as Chord. The box closes again after she has moved out, and soon she is at the closed double doors.)
Rarity: (floating medallion off breastplate, touching it to locks) At least one part of our unexpected plan worked unexpectedly.
(The latch clicks, one door opens, and she reattaches the decoration and slips inside, closing the way behind herself. Pan/tilt quickly up to several whirring rooftop fans, against which Rainbow lances upward into view with a rather bewildered Fluttershy clinging to her belly. The animal lover has shed her covert-ops gear, and the flying ace carries her through a series of deft loops among the spinning rotors before dropping into a low pass over the courtyard. By this last, she has built up enough speed to leave her distinctive contrail hanging in the air. She passes the tunnel entrance, which is being resealed by a unicorn construction worker; out in front, Zephyr has shed his Royal Guard armor and is being relieved of his helmet by an irate member of the corps—his “dalliance” with Rainbow has doubtless caught up with him. Neither pony notices the passage of Fluttershy and Rainbow.)
Zephyr: To be fair, it was never made specifically clear to me what “guarding” actually means— (poking guard in the chest) —so this is on you.
(He strides away, stubble-covered chin held high. Pan away from the entrance and stop on Twilight, Applejack, and Spike nearby. These three are studying a tumble of boulders near the base of one wall, and both Applejack and Spike have shed their specialized outfits; in addition, Applejack has resumed her normal manner of speech.)
Applejack: (scratching head) I’m strong, Twilight, but not even I can buck through solid rock. (She taps the stony mass for emphasis.)
Twilight: (gesturing behind herself) That’s why I brought a specialist.
(Who just happens to be Pinkie’s sister Maud, stepping out from behind a clump of bushes. The impassive geologist taps a few times here and there, listening intently, then comes up with a piece of chalk in her teeth. She marks an X and points to the spot; in response, a newly confident Applejack limbers up her hind legs and hunches down in preparation for a strike. Cut to a screenful of the boulder’s surface, which rumbles/cracks to the sound of an impact and finally crumbles away to expose Applejack on the opposite side. She has just hit the sweet spot to open a passage, and she steps aside to let Twilight and Spike enter first; the violet horn flicks on a light as the workhorse brings up the rear.)
(Wipe to a pair of closed doors within the castle—the ones that appeared in Shining’s Act One description of his security measures. A guard has been posted here, and Rarity approaches while keeping an eye out behind herself.)
Rarity: (deep voice) Next shift! You’re on break!
(The stallion salutes and exits; once he is well out of the way, she applies her magic to open a window so Fluttershy and Rainbow can swoop in. The passenger is unceremoniously dropped on the carpet, and Rarity levitates the star medallion off her armor and presses it to the jeweled panel mounted by the frame. Cut to just inside the throne room, the camera aimed at its closed doors, as the click of a releasing latch is heard. The portals swing open so the three mares can enter; zoom out to frame more of the imposing chamber as the geese roosting atop the columns wake up and start raising an unholy ruckus. The doors close again, and Fluttershy rises placidly to address the flock. Rarity has reattached the medallion.)
Fluttershy: (soothingly) You’ve been glaring so hard. Who wants a feather massage?
(Cut to a close-up of them, the decibel onslaught petering out to a few confused honks, then tilt down quickly to frame Twilight, Applejack, and Spike moving along a passage under the castle. Twilight angles her glowing horn to illuminate the sheet in Spike’s hands.)
Spike: We mapped this out when we got lost down here. The lever to the secret hallway entrance…should be… (jumping up to a wall sconce) …here!
(A hard pull causes the stone blocks sealing off the nearest archway to slide apart, revealing a staircase beyond, and the three begin to climb. Cut to a close-up of a hanging tapestry; Spike pushes it aside from behind, showing a doorway set into the wall at which Twilight moves up for a quizzical look. She has extinguished her horn, and he has put away his map. Zoom out quickly to show the source of her puzzlement: Fluttershy, Rainbow, and Rarity sitting in the middle of the throne room floor, each petting a contented and utterly silent goose. Pinkie drops into view from above, dangling from a wire and still in her piñata disguise; a moment later, the three tunnel rats are on the floor and crossing to the goose wranglers. The hidden doorway proves to be several feet above the floor.)
Rainbow: I can’t believe this worked! (Close-up of Spike.)
Spike: I guess sometimes the best plan is the one you expect.
(Tilt up to Twilight, a smile stretching from ear to ear as her widened pupils reflect the image of the crown. Cut to a close-up of it, zooming in slowly; back to her on the start of the next line.)
Twilight: All I have to do now is fly over and take the crown— (rearing up) —and I’ll be Sibling Supreme forever!
(She spreads her wings, tenses to lift off—and stops short at the sight of Celestia, Luna, and Shining stepping out from behind the dais. He has ditched his helmet.)
Shining: Not exactly.
(Zoom in to a close-up of his supremely smug grin, then cut back to the crew. Pinkie has shed her papery shell, and they are upright and no longer petting the geese.)
Twilight: (exasperated) Oh, come on!
Shining: (walking down to her) Gotta admit, it was unexpected for you to do everything exactly how I thought you would. (Close-up.) But you should know by now, there’s no way to beat the true Sibling Supreme!
Celestia: (crossing behind him to face Twilight) I am sorry, Twilight, but it looks as though Shining Armor has truly won the crown.
Spike: (from o.s.) That’s the thing about looks.
(All three turn back toward his voice, looking as if a bucket of superglue has just been dumped into their mental gears. Cut to the pint-size dragon; in the fore, Rainbow has gone back to stroking one of the birds.)
Spike: (pulling crown from behind back, putting it on) They can be deceiving.
Twilight: Spike?!?
Shining: How in Equestria did you do it? (Now Fluttershy has a goose in her lap as well.)
Spike: (flying to them) Come on. You two don’t think you have the only sibling rivalry. (gesturing toward thrones) I had an inside pony help.
(Princesses and Prince turn to look in the indicated direction; cut to the dais, where Luna now sits haughtily on her throne, petting a goose. The camera next shifts to one side of her, aimed down at the gathering, and pans slowly away from her.)
Spike: It wasn’t hard to miss there was some disagreement on the whole security thing.
(Wavering dissolve to w white-ringed flashback from Act One: Luna glowering to herself as the camera zooms in slowly on her.)
* Luna: I said we could do it ourselves, but some ponies are a bit more stubborn.
(Shining describes his defensive innovations, while Spike crosses unnoticed in front of him and Celestia and whispers in Luna’s ear. Her eyes pop, but she quickly smiles and nods.)
* Spike: So, while Shining Armor went on and on about all his improved security measures, Luna and I struck a deal.
(The sealed tunnel entrance, Act Two: Luna and Zephyr arrive so the latter can relieve the pair on duty, while Rarity watches from the bushes.)
* Spike: She put Zephyr in charge of the catacombs— (Inside the castle; Luna closes a set of doors and accompanies Celestia away.) —and helped keep Celestia out of the castle hallways.
(The balloon afloat, Act Two: Fluttershy and Spike, both suited up for stealth, fly out from its basket as a fishbowl-helmeted Pinkie stays aboard. The pegasus dives o.s.; the dragon remains hovering.)
* Spike: Once Luna was on board, I just had to do my part—
(Said part consists of raking a claw along the canopy to tear a gash in the fabric—the cause of the Act Two wipeout. Next: close-up of him with goggles around neck, reassuring Twilight that her original plan is worth following. Zoom out to frame the other five nodding from the grass and the open vent grate.)
* Spike: —and make sure we stuck to Twilight’s plan so we’d all get to the throne room at the same time. (The throne room; Twilight stops short at the emergence of Shining and the royal sisters; slow pan behind her.) I knew Shining Armor would let it play out until the last possible second.
(Close-up of both pairs of siblings, Shining delivering his victory monologue with relish. The crown is visible behind them, but Luna floats it up and makes it go bye-bye.)
* Spike: Then, while everyone was distracted by his gloating— (The other four mares stare dumbstruck and so do not see it reappear and drop into his hand.) —all Luna had to do was float the crown over to me.
(On the end of this, he slips it behind his back and the camera zooms in to a close-up of his calmly triumphant smile. A wavering dissolve shifts the view back to him in the present; from here, zoom out quickly to bring six members of his audience into frame. Twilight, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rarity, Celestia, and Shining stare wordlessly at the master planner, while Luna strolls up with a pleased little smile, having let go of her lap-goose.)
Celestia: (clearing throat, slightly forced tone) I, um, apologize for not listening to your concerns, sister. It seems we need to make adjustments to account for threats inside the castle as well as out. If you agree…?
Luna: (same tone) If you think it’s worth discussing.
(They depart with squint-eyed grins as stiff as their gaits; now Rainbow’s bird has deserted her as well.)
Rainbow: So…if Twilight and Shining Armor failed, who gets the crown?
(Spike removes it with a dejected little sigh, certain that he will have to give it up, as Twilight and Shining trade a look and smile.)
Twilight: (stepping forward, levitating it) The true Sibling Supreme. (Close-up of it, she continues o.s. as it descends onto the head of…) Spike.
Spike: Huh? (Zoom out; brother and sister step to his sides.)
Shining: The little brother we’ve always had.
(A seven-way group hug follows, complete with a plethora of affectionate coos and laughs but free of any geese. “Iris out” to black, the aperture star-shaped and centered on his beaming countenance.)
(The usual closing theme does not accompany the credits. In its place is the music that played behind Twilight’s outline of the group’s original plan in Act Two: quiet, suspenseful, vaguely Middle Eastern instrumentation and chord structure with electric bass, fast 4. The melody shifts quickly between A, E, and D, ending on an E chord.)
THE POINT OF NO RETURN
Written by Gillian M. Berrow
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to the exterior of the School of Friendship during the day, seen from one side. Derpy Hooves wings into view—wearing her brown/white delivery uniform, hauling a sizable carton, and leaving a scatter of letters in her wake. Cut to the front doorstep, where Spike sits reading a comic book; the sound of the gray mare’s hurtling descent clues him in to duck just in time to avoid intercepting the freight with his head.)
Spike: Whoa!
(Derpy zooms o.s. past him, a hearty impact shaking the camera to mark her wipeout as the correspondence settles to the step around the baby dragon. He leaves the comic on the stones.)
Spike: (calling toward doors) Twilight! Mail’s here!
(In close-up, they are pushed open by Twilight Sparkle’s magic; she ambles out, but stops short with a popeyed gasp. A quick zoom out frames the carton now resting intact on its side, while Derpy has gone face-first into one of the lampposts that flank the step. She slides slowly down into a crumpled heap at its base.)
Twilight: (trotting out) Are you all right?
(Derpy responds by standing up, dislodging the mail that has fallen on her, and flipping the parcel upright.)
Derpy: I just had a really heavy delivery today. (Spike zips eagerly over to it.)
Spike: (rapid fire) Is it a deluxe set of special-edition Ogres and Oubliettes figurines that I’m totally surprised by and haven’t been hinting that I need forever? (Hug the cardboard.)
Derpy: Well…it’s for Twilight.
Spike: (crushed) Awww…
Twilight: (to Derpy) Thank you.
Derpy: (flying off) You’re welcome! (Twilight studies the carton.)
Twilight: (to Spike) Huh. It’s from Princess Celestia. (He belches up a scroll.)
Spike: (sighing, catching it) So is this. (snarky) Really? She couldn’t have put it into the box?
(It is plucked away and opened with Twilight’s field; he hovers by her shoulder for a better angle.)
Twilight: (reading) “My dearest Twilight: I have been conducting a thorough cleaning of the castle, and I came across a few items of yours in your old room. I thought you might want them back.” (laughing, setting it aside) I didn’t even know I’d left anything!
(Another bit of power pops the flaps to reveal a mélange of items, the topmost of which is a picture frame lying on its face. She levitates this out, the camera tilting up to follow it and put her out of view.)
Twilight: (from o.s., warmly) Awww, look! (Back to her and Spike; she maneuvers it toward them.) Remember this? It’s the macaroni picture frame Cadence helped me make when I was a filly.
(A shot from over Spike’s shoulder brings it fully into view: himself and the other four members of the Sparkle household, several years before the present. The border of the frame is covered with glued-on pieces of the uncooked pasta, one of which chooses this moment to jump ship.)
[Animation goof: Twilight is depicted without her cutie mark, even though she got it on the day she hatched Spike—see “The Cutie Mark Chronicles.”]
Spike: (dryly) Who could forget a masterpiece like that? (Twilight shoves it into his hands and brings out a small figurine of Starswirl the Bearded.)
Twilight: My G-One Starswirl figure! (Pass it to Spike; now a bundle of scrolls floats up.) And some of my favorite school scrolls!
(These too wind up in the number-one assistant’s hold, dumping him to the step with the sheer weight, and one more drifts out of the carton’s scrambled contents and is opened.)
Twilight: And here’s my extra-extra-credit report on the impediments of using magic in everyday chores. (She reads silently as Spike digs himself out.) Ha! Still so true.
Spike: (climbing up side of carton) Is my Smash Fortune comic in there? I’ve been looking for that for years.
(Gravity drags him in with a yell. After a bit of subsurface rummaging, one set of violet claws lifts a very thick book into view.)
Spike: (from below, muffled) Or this.
(As soon as Twilight lets her old report drop, she claps eyes on the newly discovered item and proceeds to freak out.)
Twilight: (grabbing it) Oh no, oh no, oh no! (Spike gets his head up.)
Spike: What’s wrong? It just looks like an old library book.
Twilight: (brandishing it) Exactly! It belongs to the Canterlot Library! (flipping pages) That means it’s…
(She magically slips a check-out card from a pocket glued to the front inside cover, the camera zooming in to a close-up. It bears several rows that each display a pony’s cutie mark and two dates, one accentuated by a red check-mark—when it was borrowed and returned. The bottommost occupied row, however, shows only the borrow date and Twilight’s mark.)
Twilight: (horrified) …overdue!
(She grimaces at her prodigality as the view fades to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to Twilight and Spike, the latter now out of the carton, on the School’s front step. She paces worriedly, the book held aloft in her magic.)
Twilight: You don’t understand, Spike! I have a perfect library book return record!
Spike: (clearing throat, smirking) Had a perfect record.
Twilight: (moaning) I’ve never turned in a book even a minute late! And this one has been overdue since I left for Ponyville!
(She casts her mind back over the years, the view undergoing a wavering dissolve to the upper reaches of the rotunda in the Canterlot Library—Moondancer’s favorite hangout, as seen in “Amending Fences.” The camera tilts down to frame a younger Twilight approaching the circulation desk, saddlebags on back and a stack of three books floating in her hold. A close-up picks out her lack of wings—this is from a time rather far back in the day—and the volumes settle to the surface. A wrinkled, pale blue-violet hoof lances into view to do its thing: flip a front cover open, stamp the card inside, close it again. Younger TS floats each of the first two up as it is processed, then grins and opens a bag to load them in. Now the pony on the job steps into view—elderly earth pony mare, faded brown eyes behind pince-nez spectacles, mane/tail loosely tied back and striped in white and light gray, pale green shirt collar secured with a deep pink ribbon tie. This is Dusty Pages, who gives the same treatment to the third book—the one giving the present-day Twilight so much grief. It too is lifted away as she speaks in a genial tone, the camera shifting to pick out her cutie mark of an open book sitting under clouds of dust.)
Dusty: Make sure you bring this one back on time. We’ve got a long waiting list of ponies who can’t wait to read it.
Younger TS: (closing bag) I promise I won’t let you down.
Dusty: (chuckling, winking) Of course you won’t, dear. If there’s anypony I can trust to take care of a book, it’s you, Twilight Sparkle. After all, you still hold the “Best Book Borrower” title.
(On the end of this, both mares back out of view and the camera zooms in to a close-up of a framed picture on the wall behind the desk, previously hidden by Dusty’s form. It presents a close-up of Younger TS, grinning from ear to ear and holding a book. A gleam of light plays across its glass cover before the camera cuts back to them.)
Younger TS: (blushing) Ooooh, I hope I do forever!
(She walks off with a grin. Dissolve to a long shot of the upper portion of a tower—the one that she used as her living quarters and library in “Mare in the Moon” before being relocated to Ponyville—and zoom in slowly.)
Younger TS: (voice over) SPIIIIKE!
(Inside, on the top floor, she paces among the shelves of books and scientific instruments as Spike’s younger self woozily climbs the stairs. Impaled on his tail is a crumpled gift box—the present he had intended to give to Moondancer at the party Younger TS blew off. Recall that Younger TS had thrown open the balcony doors in her search for him, knocking him silly and ruining the gift. She is no longer wearing her saddlebags.)
Younger TS: Quick! Find me that old copy of Predictions and Prophecies. (puzzled) What’s that for? (He pulls the box loose.)
Younger SP: Well, it was a gift for Moondancer, but…
(The bottom falls out, dumping the damaged teddy bear within to the floor.)
Younger TS: Oh, Spike… (knocking books off a stack with her head) …you know we don’t have time for that sort of thing.
(On the end of this, cut to a close-up of the soon-to-be-missing book as it is bunted across the room, sliding to a stop under a couch. A wavering dissolve brings the focus back to Twilight in the present.)
Twilight: (floating it up) And then Celestia sent me to Ponyville and I forgot all about this! Dusty Pages prided herself that no books were damaged or lost on her watch—and I’ve failed her! I’ve failed myself!
Spike: I take it we’re going to Canterlot?
(In very short order, the Princess’s field plops saddlebags onto her back and crams the wayward tome into one of them. She rockets into the air without another word.)
Spike: (groaning testily) The sooner the better, I guess.
(He throws his own wings into gear and goes up after her. Wipe to a stretch of calm sky and tilt down to follow their descent toward the front steps of the Canterlot Library. Almost as soon as hooves and feet touch the road, Twilight looks furtively around herself, gasps, and drags Spike close with a foreleg. The two dive into a nearby bush, from which they peek out at the locals going about their business, and keep their voices down through the following except where noted.)
Spike: Uh…why are we hiding? Don’t you want to return your book?
Twilight: Yes, but what if somepony sees me in there? I’m the Princess of Friendship. Everywhere I go, ponies recognize me. I’ll stick out like a sore hoof!
Spike: (laughing, normal volume) Princess Twilight Sparkle in a library? Stop the presses!
Twilight: A late book is a big deal, Spike. What if Dusty Pages revokes my library card?
(During this second sentence, she levitates out a light violet wallet emblazoned with her cutie mark and floats a card from it: her goofily grinning face and mark, a bar code, open-book logo. Spike’s flat look earns him a cheek-mashing grab as she puts the card away. Normal speaking volume resumes at this point.)
Twilight: Or bans me from ever entering the building again? (He slowly extricates himself as the wallet sinks into the foliage.)
Spike: Don’t you already have most of those books in your collection at home?
Twilight: (beaming) Yes, but the ones in there have a special Canterlot Library-ey smell!
Spike: (puzzled) You sniff books? (A unicorn mare happens by.)
Twilight: You don’t?
(She ducks away, leaving the little guy to take the brunt of the mare’s very funny look before she backs off warily. Only after she has cleared the area does Twilight put her head up with a sigh.)
Twilight: I used to live in a library. If I’m not a good example of proper book-borrowing behavior, then what kind of princess am I? (Spike flies up to lay a reassuring arm across her shoulders.)
Spike: One that makes mistakes like everypony else. Trust me—once you return that book, you’ll feel way better.
Twilight: (smiling) Thanks, Spike. (She steps into the clear…) Let’s go!
(…only to yelp and jump back into the bushes as another mare trots by. Again, she waits until the coast is clear before re-emerging, this time with a chagrined little giggle, and trotting off. Spike drops in behind, flying slowly and emitting a weary groan. Cut to the upper reaches of the Canterlot Library rotunda and tilt down slowly to frame the front doors at the far side. Spike is hovering just inside, and he makes his leisurely way to the circulation desk as Twilight executes a quick series of teleports to carry her from the threshold all over the place, stopping near him. The librarian on duty is a dark gray unicorn mare, bespectacled and considerably younger than Dusty. With a sharp gasp, Twilight levitates a potted plant to hide her face and steps up; Spike’s face falls at this latest evidence of her paranoia gone off the rails.)
Twilight: (clearing throat, deep voice) I have a book to return?
Librarian: (perkily) Princess Twilight? (Twilight peeks out, crestfallen…) So good to see you! (…and lets the plant drop with a moan.) Need some recommendations from the New Release section?
(A cart of books parked nearby draws a happy gasp from the violet mare and makes her forget her trepidation.)
Twilight: (own voice, magically lifting one free) Is that the new edition of Mooncurve’s Seven Theories on Bending Time? (flipping pages) I have been waiting for the release sin—
(An impatient claw tap on the shoulder jolts her back to the task at hand, and she closes the cover and slides it back into place.)
Twilight: Uh, I mean, uh, no books today. (Laugh.) Thanks.
(A collective gasp of alarm from every patron within earshot—they know her entirely too well to take this as business as usual, it seems.)
Twilight: But I do need to speak with Dusty Pages about a… (Clear throat; lower volume.) …sensitive matter.
Librarian: Dusty who?
Twilight: (normal volume, giggling weakly) Dusty Pages? The head librarian? She’s worked here forever.
(Magic pops a saddlebag flap, brings up the overdue book, and floats a photo of Dusty from among the pages. The items are packed away again on the next line.)
Librarian: I’m sorry, Princess. I don’t know her. Now, was there some other way I can help the library’s Best Book Borrower?
(On the end of this, she backs away slightly to show the framed picture honoring Twilight—heavily cobwebbed and almost totally obscured by dust, but still where it had hung when Dusty ran the desk. A quick exertion of the librarian’s field brings up a feather duster to clean off the glass; the sight of the old picture brings a very shaky laugh from its subject, and Spike holds up a comic book in front of his face and hers for a bit of privacy. Hushed tones for the next three lines.)
Spike: Just ask her where to return an overdue book! It’s no big deal! It happens all the time!
Twilight: Not to me, it doesn’t!
(The periodical is repositioned just so as the perplexed librarian stares across the desk.)
Twilight: (sighing heavily) Fine.
(A suddenly-made mental connection pops her eyes wide open and snaps her up to full volume.)
Twilight: Fine! Oh, no! I didn’t even think about the late fine! (Comic down as she continues.) A book out this long will probably cost a thousand bits!
(The little guy cuts to the chase by digging said book out of her bags.)
Spike: (plunking it on desk) She…I mean, we have an overdue book.
Librarian: (laughing) Well, that’s no problem at all. In fact, it happens all the time. (She ducks behind the desk…)
Spike: (to Twilight) See?
(…and comes up, using horn-power to set a full card catalog drawer in front of herself.)
Librarian: (floating several cards out, looking them over) I’ll just find it in the card catalog. Uh…number one-eight-nine-oh-five— (dropping all but one card) —got it!
(Her airy chuckle gives way to a pained grimace.)
Librarian: Oh, wow, yeesh. I haven’t seen a book this late in… (adjusting glasses) …well, ever.
(She clears her throat, her perky tone instantly giving way to a scowling, humorless demeanor, and sets the last card down.)
Librarian: You need to go and see First Folio in the Grossly Overdue Book Return Office for Ponies Who Should Know Better.
Twilight: (cowed) Don’t pull any punches with those names, do you?
(Her field tucks the book away in her saddlebags.)
Spike: (to librarian) And that office would be…?
Librarian: In the basement… (whispering) …because of the shame!
(She turns away to return to her duties, and Twilight resignedly bangs her head on the counter. Wipe to an overhead view of Princess and dragon plodding glumly down a stone-lined passage. The camera points at them from just above a network of overhead pipes and structural beams, then shifts to a profile and pans to follow their progress. Storage cabinets and doors with small barred windows line the walls, and cobwebs and other signs of disrepair are present in abundance. Spike gets caught up in one mass of sticky strands.)
Spike: Whoa. (It takes him some effort to break loose.) Looks like nopony ever goes down here.
Twilight: (sourly) Nopony except undependable rule-breakers who deserve all the horrors this hallway holds! (Spike flies to catch up.)
Spike: (brightly) And their faithful dragon companions. (Gaze ahead intently.) Uh…
(Dead ahead of them, at the end of the corridor, is a door illuminated by a solitary hanging lamp. A sheet of paper is attached.)
Spike: …hey. (pointing to it) It looks like First Folio left a note on the door.
Twilight: (very snarky) “Abandon hope, all ye who enter”?
(Close-up of the door as Spike flies to it and lands. Now the tacked-on note can be seen more clearly: a written message and a picture of a knife, fork, and plate.)
Spike: (reading) “Out to lunch on Restaurant Row.” (shrugging) Guess we’ll have to try back later. (He starts to leave, but Twilight reaches into view to stop him.)
Twilight: (from o.s.) No. (Longer shot, framing both.) I can’t wait another minute to return this book! In the time it took us to get there, I racked up another… (She runs a few numbers in her head.) …seventeen bits in late fees! (resolutely) We’re going to lunch! (Away she goes.)
Spike: Good, ’cause I’m starving!
(He licks his chops eagerly, gets a nasty look from the boss, and thinks better of it.)
Spike: Oh. You mean to find First Folio. (Twilight gallops off; he hustles to catch up.) Can we at least get takeout?
(Dissolve to the exterior of the Tasty Treat, the restaurant that figured prominently in “Spice Up Your Life.” Zoom in slowly and cut to inside; the place is doing a brisk business, and Twilight and Spike have just come in.)
Twilight: Tell me if you see any librarian-type ponies.
Spike: Twilight, we tried this at three other restaurants already!
Twilight: And my late fines are already up another twenty-six more bits!
(She tromps into the dining room; he follows, sobbing quietly, but gets flagged down by two mares as he passes their table.)
Mare 1: Waiter, we’re ready to order.
Spike: Oh! Uh, I’m not actually a—
Mare 1: Three samosas, two curry specials—do you think that’s enough for the two of us?
Spike: Hm. (He takes out a notepad and quill.) Well, I would probably order some naan as well, for the table? (Jot a note.)
Mare 1: Sounds great.
[Note: Samosa and naan are two common items in Indian cuisine. The former is a dish consisting of a pastry shell that is typically stuffed with a savory vegetable filling and deep-fried. The latter is an oven-baked flatbread that can be eaten by itself or with various toppings.]
(The sight of Spike being pressed into waiter duty is enough of a puzzler for the visiting Princess, but the next voice she hears really freezes up the gears. On the start of the next line, she pivots toward its source and finds the speaker standing on the other side of the room.)
Moondancer: Twilight? Is that you?
Twilight: (instantly perking up) Moondancer! How have you been? (crossing to her; slightly forced tone) I’m just visiting. No real reason. Heh.
Moondancer: Well, it’s good to see you. (gesturing over shoulder) I’m just meeting my friend, First Folio, for lunch.
(The mention of that name puts a scare into Twilight. Cut to another table, where a severe-faced older unicorn mare is sitting. First Folio has a white coat with a very faint brown tinge, a curly mane/tail in two shades of blue, a square jaw, red-gold eyes framed by half-moon glasses on a chain around her neck, a medium blue blouse with a lighter collar secured by a brooch, and a cutie mark of a quill in an inkwell.)
Moondancer: (crossing to table) Do you want to join us?
Twilight: (excitedly) First Folio? Yes! (composing herself) I mean, thank you.
(Moondancer takes a seat at First speaks up, her voice that of a good-humored academician—a marked contrast with the set of her features.)
First: Princess Twilight! Good to meet you! Did you know your picture is still up in our library as the Best Book Borrower?
Twilight: (a bit uneasily) Yeah. I was hoping I could talk to Dusty Pages about that. (Surprise from both diners.)
Moondancer: Oh! Uh, Dusty Pages left the library moons ago. Didn’t you know?
Twilight: (shaking head) Mmm-mmm. (She sits at the table.)
First: (sympathetically) Oh, I heard she was forced to leave. (Twilight’s eyes pop.) It’s so sad. She loved the library.
Twilight: Wait. Forced to leave? (Close-up of First and Moondancer.)
First: (nodding) Yeah-huh, uh-huh, yeah. She had a perfect librarian record— (viciously) —until one careless pony didn’t return a book. Ruined it all.
Moondancer: Are you okay, Twilight?
(Pan to the third mare, whose train of thought has just derailed and gone over the cliff. Her sweat glands, on the other hand, are in fine form and working overtime.)
Twilight: (weakly) Uh-huh. Would, uh, you excuse me?
(She peels out in a cloud of dust. Across the way, Spike has donned a white apron marked by a pink heart, served the two mares who mistook him for a waiter, and is about to dish up the entrée for a customer at the next table over. As Twilight gallops by, she grazes the baby dragon and sets him spinning in place; however, he comes out of it without spilling a crumb from his tray. He has put away his pad and quill.)
Spike: (to third customer) That’s why you only order spicy if you can take it.
(Setting her food on the table, he peels off his apron and tosses it aside while jogging after Twilight. Outside the Tasty Treat, she pelts up the alley toward the main thoroughfare with him scrambling to catch up.)
Spike: Twilight, what’s wrong? (Both stop.)
Twilight: (floating book out of bags) Dusty Pages isn’t working at the library anymore because I didn’t return this book! Spike, I think I got her fired!
(Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to a busy Canterlot street. Twilight gallops down the block; Spike flies close behind for a few dozen yards, but stops short.)
Spike: (calling ahead, pointing to one side) Twilight, the library is that way! (He gives up and zooms after her.)
Twilight: Change of plans! We’re going to Dusty’s house. She used to invite me over for tea all the time!
Spike: But what about your late fees?
Twilight: They’re not as important as making things right. (She pulls ahead.)
Spike: Wait! So you’re not gonna return the book? (He catches up.)
Twilight: No. (Turn a corner.) Dusty Pages is. It’s my fault she lost her job, so if I give her the book, she can get her old job back.
(They approach a house liberally decorated with signs that prohibit a wide range of activities, judging from the red slashes and X’s overlaid on pictograms.)
Twilight: It’ll fix everything!
(Stop at the doorstep. Deep breath. Two careful knocks, offering a pleasant grin. The door is thrown open so a bulky, pale blue earth pony stallion can step out and put every iota of his surly attitude on display.)
Stallion 1: (pointing to one sign) Didn’t you see the sign?
(Twilight glances off that way; close-up of it—a circle-and/slash over a pony knocking at the door, briefcase standing in easy reach.)
Stallion 1: (from o.s.) No sales-ponies! (Cut to Twilight and Spike.)
Twilight: (smiling) Oh! I-I’m not selling anything.
Stallion 1: No carolers either! (Cut/pan among the signs, putting him o.s.) No surveys, no petitions, no free literature!
(The doorstep again; he backs up past the threshold and starts to close the door, but she stubbornly exerts her aura to counter him. Muscle and magic strain against each other for a moment, but she wins and yanks it fully open, dropping him to his haunches.)
Twilight: No problem. I’m just looking for somepony who used to live here. I’m pretty sure this was her house.
Stallion 1: Dusty Pages?
Twilight: Yes!
Stallion 1: Hold on.
(He stands up and ducks into the house, while Twilight and Spike trade hopeful grins. A few seconds later, the occupant comes out toting a rather large sack; as he speaks, he hefts this to show a stamp and postmark on the side.)
Stallion 1: She moved to…Silver somethin’. Shoals…Seas…Surfer…w-whatever. When you find her, give her this!
(He empties the sack, dumping its freight—dozens of scrolls and letters—all over Spike. As the scaly violet/green head breaks through to daylight, the empty is thrown down to cover it.)
Stallion 1: It’s been stackin’ up for years! And tell her to change her address!
(He jumps angrily in place on these last three words, then slams the door in the pair’s faces. They exchange looks that telegraph their combined worry over having to both prolong their search and drag this mess along. Dissolve to a long overhead shot of Canterlot as they fly off, Spike toting the refilled sack, then cut to them in midair as they stop. Twilight’s magic produces a map from her saddlebags, and after a quick bit of study, she darts down and Spike follows. Cut to a pair of small houses standing side by side on a grassy ridge; Twilight comes in gracefully for a landing, having stowed the map, but Spike plops heavily onto his belly. A light violet hoof knocks at one door, and its owner grins broadly at the answering mare and floats up her photo of Dusty. Receiving only a head shake, Twilight turns away to the other house as the door closes and repeats the performance, with the same result. The photo goes back in the bags, the map comes out, and a quill checks off one spot—an island.)
(Wipe to the pair flying over water, Twilight having put everything away and Spike now straining somewhat to keep pace with her. Another midair stop, a look at the map, another location checked off, and the camera zooms in to an extreme close-up of a cluster of mountain peaks and a snaking railroad track. Dissolve to a grimy earth pony stallion pushing a cart filled with crystal/gem shards along a track in a mine tunnel. He wears a hard hat outfitted with a headlamp, as does Twilight when she and Spike fly in to intercept him. She has her photo at the ready for his consideration, but he shakes his head.)
(From here, wipe to Gallus, Silverstream, and Smolder sitting in a cluster of chairs within the School’s library. The orange dragon is enjoying a cup of tea, and the other two are having a conversation that is interrupted by a tap on the hippogriff’s shoulder. Pan slightly back to frame Twilight now standing behind her, hard hat gone; out with the photo, which is met with only a confused shrug. The next dissolve shifts the view to a slow pan across a sprawling apartment complex that stands on a lakeshore. Twilight and Spike wing their way toward this and land by a sign on the front lawn, the photo packed away once more.)
Twilight: (reading) “Silver Stable Community. For the Best Golden Years.” This has to be it!
Spike: I hope so.
(He pulls out the map, now covered with red check marks except for this vicinity.)
Spike: It’s the last “Silver” spot on the map we haven’t looked.
(Away with it. The two regard the front doors with concern; cut to just inside them as Twilight’s magic opens one and she steps in. Spike follows her in the air, grunting as he strains to keep the dead weight of the sack clear of the floorboards, but he perks up with a gasp. Cut to a slow pan across the area they have just entered—a spacious lobby in which a few elderly ponies are snoozing on couches. The walls are lined with photos, and a flight of stairs leads up to a balcony; at both levels are doors that each bear a pony’s photo. Behind a desk at the far end, a receptionist mare sits reading a book.)
Spike: (flying into view after Twilight) Whoa-ho! This place is—
Twilight: —terrible! I know! There’s not a single bookshelf in sight! Poor Dusty. (They reach the desk; she addresses herself across it.) Excuse me?
Receptionist: (brightly) Yes! How may I help you? (Close the book.)
Twilight: (floating/showing photo of Dusty) Do you have a resident named Dusty Pages?
Receptionist: (pointing off to one side) Oh, yes! Her apartment is in the next complex, ground floor. (Photo back in saddlebags.)
Twilight: (walking that way; Spike follows) Thank you!
(The receptionist goes back to her book. Wipe to a two-story building adjacent to this one, each level lined with doors and windows similar to a hotel whose rooms open directly to the outside. Twilight and Spike approach and make their way along the ground-floor walk.)
Twilight: I can’t believe that my carelessness sent her here, when she could be happily surrounded by millions of wonderful-smelling books!
Spike: You realize that might just be a “you” thing, right?
(She shoots him a sour look as they move on past a door set with Dusty’s picture. One hasty backpedal and gasp later, she is standing before it; Spike takes his time reversing gears.)
Twilight: There she is! Here we go.
(A deep breath to steel herself, and she knocks firmly and puts on a smile that Spike matches as he lets the sack drop and lands. As the seconds pass with no response, the mare melts into disappointment and briefly levitates a pocket watch, whose ticking comes through loud and clear in the silence. Her nerves finally get the better of her, and she voices a frustrated yell and pulls her cheeks while dropping to her haunches.)
Spike: She’s bound to be back soon. Maybe we should just wait here. (Twilight stands up with new resolve.)
Twilight: No! We are fixing this now! (Emphatic stomp on the last word.) This place isn’t that big. We can find her!
(The hooves get moving; the scaly stevedore scowls and drags the sack along. Wipe to a longer shot of the lakeshore, framing more of the Silver Stable community and a pier that juts into the water. Three oldsters have set up easels here to do a little painting: one stallion and two mares, with Granny Smith’s cousin Apple Rose among their number. Twilight and Spike step out along the planks toward them, Spike again airborne.)
Twilight: Sorry to interrupt your plein air painting, but we’re looking for Dusty Pages. Have you seen her?
[Note: She has used a French term that refers to painting outdoors, rather than in a studio.]
Apple Rose: Sure have.
(Twilight grins in anticipation of further details, but none are immediately forthcoming. She cycles a deep breath through her lungs to get her impatience under control before speaking again.)
Twilight: Aaaaand…?
Apple Rose: She had to leave early to get to her Bonne Vie de Thé session.
Stallion 2: Which is right before she leads the woodworking class with me. Then she’s on to windsurfing.
Apple Rose: Ooh, and don’t forget theater rehearsal. Dusty’s playing the lead role— (grumpily) —again.
[Note: The activity name she has mentioned loosely translates from French as “Good Life of Tea.”]
Stallion 2: Then there’s her band practice later.
Twilight: Thank you!
(She and Spike hustle toward dry land as the three seniors resume their artistic endeavors.)
Spike: Wow. Dusty sounds like one busy pony.
Twilight: Oh, she’s just filling her days with distractions to cover the pain of losing the best job ever! (firmly) But not for long!
(She strides ahead, leaving her assistant to aim a rather fed-up look to no living thing in particular. Dissolve to three ponies doing a sequence of slow stretching exercises in front of Dusty’s apartment complex; one of these is Granny’s aunt Applesauce. They take a break on the arrival of Twilight and Spike; the photo of Dusty is floated out of the saddlebags and shown to one, who shakes her head and points across the lawn. Pan quickly in that direction and stop on a swinging, creaking wrought-iron gate—they have apparently just missed the elusive retiree, and Twilight lets both her head and the photo drop.)
(The entire image slides out of view and is replaced by a workshop in which four ponies are busying themselves with assorted carpentry projects. Twilight teleports herself and Spike in among them and approaches Mr. Waddle, only to get a head shake and a hoof pointed toward a door that is just now swinging shut—another near miss. It is promptly yanked open by Twilight’s magic, and Princess and porter hurry out to continue their search. Cut to just outside the building; they stop on the threshold for a quick glance over the surrounding terrain, but she is dismayed to find neither hide nor hair of her target.)
(This view slides away, yielding to another pier at which rowboats and windsurfing boards have been parked. The sack of mail has been set down so Twilight and Spike can survey the water; the Princess shades her eyes for a moment to get a better look, then smiles in triumph. Wipe to two life-jacketed elders steering the boards; one does a blissful loop-the-loop off a wave before Twilight and Spike pull up on a rig of their own. Both are wearing the protective gear and shed their respective cargoes. Twilight waves for attention and floats out her photo of Dusty, but the two seniors shake their heads and let the breeze carry them ahead. When she turns her attention away from steering to peer in another direction, the board capsizes and dumps both her and Spike into the lake; the photo; however, remains high and dry in her field as both heads break the surface. Spike grins over the mishap, while Twilight shoots him a really filthy look. Both faces shift to panic an instant before a huge wave washes over the screen.)
(The water drains away to present an auditorium set up a theater-in-the-round performance. Three costumed, masked ponies are rehearsing a scene on the central stage when Twilight and Spike open the doors and enter; both are dry, without their life jackets, and equipped with their luggage. She addresses the trio and floats up her photo—now soggy, stained, and wrinkled from the windsurfing fiasco—but each in turn shakes his/her head while unmasking. The third, a stallion, proves to have an elongated, pointed nose that exactly matches the contours of his mask. One purple eye begins to twitch uncontrollably as a roll of the green ones gives away Spike’s growing exasperation.)
(Dissolve to just behind Twilight, photo packed away, as she butts her way through a pair of closed doors to enter a bar/lounge area. Here, a five-pony combo is performing a lively honky-tonk tune on a small stage—trumpet, saxophone, upright bass, drums, and Dusty on acoustic guitar. The mane/ tail are cut shorter and no longer tied back, but the other features and accessories mark her as the missing mare—who proves to be no slouch on the six-string.)
Twilight: (ecstatically) Dusty Pages! Finally! Come on, Spike!
(She starts across the room, but he leaves the sack at the door and circles through the air to cut her off.)
Spike: Wait. She looks pretty happy up there.
(Now she really gets into the act, jumping off her stool and flopping to the stage on her back as she scrubs at her guitar.)
Twilight: Trust me, it’s all an act. She’ll be a lot happier when I deliver the good news that she can go back to working at the library.
(She moves ahead again on the end of this, ignoring Spike’s stony glare, and ends the run-through by levitating all the instruments out of the players’ reach.)
Twilight: (brightly) Care to take five, everypony? (The gear is set back down.)
Dusty: (recognizing her) Ah! Twilight Sparkle? My stars! (A smiling nod sends the other four off the stage.) It’s so wonderful to see you. (descending to floor) What are you doing here? (Spike drags the sack over…)
Twilight: I’ve been looking all over Equestria for you! (…and dumps it out.) I need to tell you something.
Dusty: Well…you brought my mail! (hugging her) Oh, thank you.
(The hug tightens a notch, lifting its recipient off her hooves and threatening to squeeze all the air out of her lungs until she gently pushes Dusty back.)
Twilight: No. I mean…yes, we did. But that’s not why we’re here. I let you down, and I can’t forgive myself until I set things right.
Dusty: I don’t remember you doing anything wrong.
Twilight: You told me to take special care of a book I checked out from the Canterlot Library, a-and I never brought it back!
(The faded eyes behind the pince-nez go very wide at this admission, and the mouth underneath them pulls in a stunned gasp.)
Dusty: It was you that had that book out? The one that broke my perfect record? (Twilight nods sadly and levitates it from her bags.)
Twilight: But now you can bring it to Canterlot Library and get your job back!
Dusty: (suddenly angry, shaking head) No, thank you! I don’t ever need to see that library again!
(She pushes the offending volume away, forcing Twilight to grab it with a foreleg, and gathers up her spilled mail.)
Dusty: Now if you’ll excuse me— (hauling it away) —I have somewhere to be.
(All too soon, there is nothing left to mark her presence except a trail of dropped scrolls and envelopes. Fade to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the bar in the lounge area. The rest of the combo has gone back to rehearsing, having shifted to jazz; Spike snaps his fingers in time while sipping at a juice box, but Twilight has gone face-first on the bar. She lifts her noggin to fire a glare toward the stage, having put her saddlebags aside.)
Twilight: Do you mind?
(A brief pause, a happy shake of the drummer’s head, and the four finish their tune at a lower volume. Face meets bar top again.)
Twilight: I don’t understand. (Up.) If Dusty Pages won’t go back to Canterlot Library and explain everything, then she won’t be able to get her job back. Even worse, her record will remain imperfect. (Close-up of Spike.)
Spike: And yours will, too? (Zoom out to frame both.)
Twilight: Well, yeah! But that doesn’t matter anymore.
Spike: (dryly) Really?
Twilight: Well, maybe a little bit. (A thought flashes through her mind.) Oh, no! Bits! The late fines! How much do I owe now?
(The faithful companion fishes up an abacus, spends a few seconds working the beads back and forth, and finally pushes the whole thing aside.)
Spike: Uh, you don’t want to know. (Twilight groans and pulls a foreleg down her face.)
Twilight: It would have been worth all the bits in Equestria if I’d made things right with Dusty. I wish I knew why she won’t go back.
Spike: Why don’t you ask her?
Twilight: She didn’t seem to want to talk.
Spike: But you surprised her, and she probably had something else on her schedule. That thing is packed. (He hovers off his stool to face her.) Come on. What have you gotta lose?
Twilight: Now that I’ve messed up this much, nothing. (She finds her nerve.) You’re right, Spike. (smiling; the musicians start up again) It’s worth a try. (Hop off the stool.) Where do you think she went? Crochet? Bingo?
(Wipe to an overhead shot of a clearing filled with obstacles constructed from hay bales, barrels, and crates. Cylindrical containers filled with various produce items are placed here and there, and a few ponies in helmets/goggles/protective equipment are glancing suspiciously across the turf. The splatters on both them and the barricades give the whole thing away as the pony equivalent of a paintball battle, using thrown fruits and vegetables as the ammunition. Twilight and Spike step out from the surrounding trees to find the battle well and truly joined, the former toting her bags and the latter hovering by her side.)
Twilight: A squishy-fruit food fight tournament?!?
(Three rounds land just short of their position; Spike whips out a small white flag on a stick and waves it furiously.)
Spike: Hey, everypony! We come in—
(Before he can finish the thought, a tomato is flung his way; Twilight ducks, but he takes it in the back and is driven o.s, the flag clattering to the ground.)
Spike: (flying back) —uh, pieces.
(A split-second later, both of them have been plastered head to toe in an onslaught of mushy foodstuffs. Twilight kick-starts her horn and teleports both of them off the battlefield, leaving the mess behind to collapse into a swampy heap on the grass. They materialize behind a rocky outcropping and risk a glance over/around it toward the free-for-all.)
Twilight: STOOOP!! We just want to talk to Dusty Pages for a moment. (A few more throws, not aimed at her.) Pleeeeease?
Dusty: (from o.s.) TIIIIME OOOOUUUUT!!
(Cut to her on the end of this line—suited up like the others, no longer hauling her old mail, and standing on a tree limb. Biting into a rope tied off to a higher branch, she slides down and makes a solid four-point landing in front of the two visitors as the fusillade stops. She has removed her pince-nez to accommodate the goggles.)
Dusty: (smiling) Next time, you should rent gear.
Spike: We’re not actually here for the game.
Twilight: I was hoping you’d give me another chance to talk to you about the library book.
Dusty: (sighing) This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?
Twilight: (nodding) Mmm-hmm. I know I ruined your life by not returning my book on time, and I will do anything I can to make it up to you—even promise to never take a book out of the library again, if that’s what it takes.
(A collective gasp from the other combatants—her reputation as a bookworm has preceded her all the way out here, it seems. What follows is a cheery giggle from the old librarian that completely floors Twilight and Spike.)
Spike: That is not the reaction we expected.
Dusty: Twilight, dear, you’ve got it all backwards. I’m not upset with you.
Twilight: You’re not?
Dusty: No. If I’m mad at anypony, it’s me.
(She walks off, the pair following with visible confusion. A few steps bring her to a fallen log; she sits, putting her helmet/goggles aside and donning her pince-nez, and pats the wood in silent, smiling invitation. Twilight and Spike cross to her, the saddlebags levitating away; on the start of the next line, they sit to either side of Dusty and the camera zooms in slightly.)
Dusty: All those years I spent hiding away in that library, trying to be perfect. When your book never came in, I felt something exhilarating!
Twilight: What was it?
Dusty: Freedom.
Spike: From books?
Dusty: From perfection. I was too stubborn to know when to call it quits. (to Twilight) It took your mistake to make me realize that I wasn’t living the life I wanted.
Twilight: You mean you weren’t fired? You left the library because you wanted to?
Dusty: (patting Twilight’s back) Twilight, your late book was the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I’m not afraid to try things I might fail at. In fact, sometimes messing up teaches me more than getting it right.
Twilight: (smiling, floating book up) You’re sure you don’t want to return it and get that perfect record back?
(It ends up stopping a wayward shot, which leaves it spattered with yellowish gunk and causes Twilight to cry out in horror. Dusty, on the other hand, actually seems relieved.)
Dusty: Oh, good. It was a yellow one. You can still see the words.
Twilight: But it’ll have a stain!
Dusty: Well, that doesn’t change the truth inside it. (puzzled) Wait. Did you even read that thing?
Twilight: (blushing, sheepishly) Actually, uh, no. I guess I didn’t.
(She floats it up; cut to her perspective as she wipes some of the pulp off the cover.)
Twilight: (reading title) Perfection. (Back to her and Dusty.)
Dusty: And the next part?
Twilight: (reading, squinting closely) The Impossible Pursuit.
(The full import of those four combined words sends her brain into a stall, but Dusty and Spike just laugh it up until she recovers with an embarrassed little smile.)
Twilight: Oh. That might have been useful to look at earlier.
(She offers a self-deprecating grin. Dissolve to the exterior of the Canterlot Library, zooming in slowly, then cut to a small office crowded with books and files. First sits behind the desk—her workspace in the basement corridor that Twilight and Spike visited in Act One—and is reading over a document held in her magic. The offending Princess stands facing her, Spike seated on an adjacent stool, and the damaged book rests on the desk with all the loose pulp cleaned off. Twilight has donned her saddlebags.)
First: Mmm-hmm…your total late fees come to… (Twilight sweats profusely.)
Twilight: However much it is, I’ll cover it. Uh, do you have a monthly payment plan?
(The page is lowered so the square-jawed unicorn can look her dead in the eye.)
First: …twenty-eight bits. (Twilight and Spike gasp as one.)
Spike: That’s it?!?
First: (smiling) Yeah-huh. Most ponies don’t know it caps at a month— (winking) —probably ’cause we don’t tell them.
(A little snort of laughter; now a much-relieved Twilight telekinetically brings a scatter of coins from her saddlebags and stacks them on the desk.)
First: Thank you. Your account is back to normal—although we will be taking down your “Best Book Borrower” picture.
Twilight: (leaning on desk, laughing nervously) Um, is that really necessary? It just seems so permanent. I mean, I did return the book, after all. (Spike clears his throat pointedly.) Okay…letting the perfection go. (Deep breath.) You want me to re-shelve this for you?
First: No. It’s an old edition. We’ve already replaced it with a new copy.
Spike: In that case, can we keep it? (Twilight grins hopefully.) It might be a good reminder to have around.
(The grin becomes just a tiny bit strained as he offers a smug one of his own and nudges her knowingly.)
First: (levitating book off desk) You’re sure? It’s got a stain.
Twilight: (smiling genuinely) That’s what makes it perfect.
(She extends her power to pull it close so one foreleg can gather it in as a hard-won trophy of her sojourn. Fade to black.)
COMMON GROUND
Written by Josh Haber
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Note: The characters of Clear Sky and Wind Sprint are referred to by others as “Sky”
and “Wind” during this episode, respectively. However, I have previously used
those speaker tags to refer to the characters of Sky Stinger and Wind Rider in
“Top Bolt” and “Rarity Investigates!” In this transcript, I will therefore denote
both characters by their full names.
Prologue
(Opening shot: a black screen, against which a newspaper spins into view from the center and toward the camera. The black-and-white photo on the front page displays a ball in flight toward a pole-mounted buckball basket, and an energetic male announcer’s voice is heard.)
Announcer 1: Highlights in the world of sports.
(Dissolve to a game in progress during the day, seen from the upper-level seats of a stadium filled with cheering fans decked out in team colors. The blue-clad Ponyville team of Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Snails is one of the two contenders, and a referee stallion has ball in hoof, ready to start the action.)
Announcer 1: Buckball fever has swept Equestria.
(As he continues, the ball is bounced for a buck-off and the opposing team’s earth pony gets in the first kick. Fluttershy catches the ball in a wing and spins in place to sling it down to Pinkie, who bucks it hard enough to force the other pegasus to duck.)
Announcer 1: What started as a backyard hobby for fruit farmers and the like has blossomed into a literal phenomenon, with something for everypony. (Snails levitates his basket, catches for a goal, and rolls it smugly in midair.) Unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies alike can’t get enough of this breakthrough sport.
(Overhead shot of the stadium on the end of this, zooming in slowly, then cut to a row of Ponyville fans doing the wave. A dissolve shifts the view to a stretch of desert terrain; here, Cherry Berry flips a ball in a mouth-held pot while Bon Bon gets fitted out with a baseball cap equipped with a juice box holder and spiraling straw.)
Announcer 1: And with its popularity still on the rise—
(Bon Bon winks and holds up a themed mug. Zoom in on this as a second, different one is clunked against it for a toast.)
Announcer 1: —buckball fans want— (Cut to Fleur, who magically secures a bal/basket pendant around her neck.) —nay, demand an institution catering to their new obsession.
(On the end of this, zoom in on the bauble and cut to an exuberant Ponyville supporter waving a “#1” foam-finger hand. A cluster of sport-decorated balloons rises past the camera, the view shifting behind them to a bare stretch of land. Pan slowly across the area, new bits of construction popping into view from the ground up to form a brand-new stadium with peripheral buildings. The whole stands on a platform elevated several steps above the hardpan.)
Announcer 1: And the ponies of Appleloosa answered the call, delivering a state-of-the-art locale where fans Equestria over can celebrate their passion—the Buckball Hall of Fame!
(A ball is swept across the screen, held in Fluttershy’s tail, and pulled back to return the action back to the game. As the narrative continues, she whips it down to Pinkie for a shot on goal; the opposing pegasus dives backward in midair but fails to intercept, and the ball drops into Snails’ basket.)
Announcer 1: Though, given the game’s recent nature, the only inductees so far will be the members of the current championship team from Ponyville.
(The defeated squad members hang their heads as three vertical panels slide into view, each framing one winner in close-up. The camera zooms out from this tableau to put it on the screen of a movie theater auditorium—this entire sequence has been a newsreel, and the team has been watching it from the front row. On the next line, cut to a close-up of them, Snails munching placidly from a bag of popcorn. They are not wearing their jerseys.)
Pinkie: (to Fluttershy, whispering loudly) Do you think they know we’re here? (Rainbow Dash, one row back, leans forward to her.)
Rainbow: I think they have a pretty good idea.
(Zoom out to frame the entire audience. Every seat is filled, and all eyes are turned eagerly toward the trio regardless of the individual ponies’ team allegiances.)
Snails: A pretty good idea about what?
(As he chomps obliviously away, the three mares exchange puzzled glances that might translate as “He can’t really be that dense, can he?” Fluttershy offers a humoring grin and shrug before the view fades to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to a slow pan across the Appleloosa complex, with a few ponies milling around the stadium. The Ponyville four are among the crowd emerging from one of the outbuildings—the theater that ran the newsreel. Snails is a bit farther back.)
Fluttershy: I can’t believe the ponies of Appleloosa built this place!
Pinkie: Yeah! Especially after their team lost to us. They must really love buckball.
(An earth pony colt in Ponyville blue races up excitedly.)
Colt: (stammering, trotting in place) Oh, my gosh! It’s you! I can’t believe you’re you—I-I mean, here! I mean, Team Ponyville, yeah!
Snails: Yep, it’s us!
Colt: How much for an autograph? (He fishes out a sheet of paper and holds it forth.)
Snips: Bits for autographs, eh?
(Zoom in to an extreme close-up of his beady eyes, which ring up dollar signs to replace the pupils, then zoom out as they return to normal and he turns to his buddy.)
Snips: (whispering) Snails! You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?
Snails: (normal volume) What’s the sound of one hoof clapping?
Snips: (ditto) Yeah! I mean, uh, no! (to crowd) How many of you would pay for an autograph from my best friend Snails?
(The plethora of waving hooves, clamoring voices, and proffered legal tender answers that one in a big hurry.)
Snails: (awed) Wow. That’s a lot of writing.
(Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Rainbow leave him to it and extricate themselves from the throng.)
Fluttershy: I’m so proud they’ve decided to honor us. I never thought I’d get to be in anything like a hall of fame.
Pinkie: Me neither! Unless you count a Royal Order of Party Planners Memorial Library, which— (Dismissive chuckle.) —I don’t, because every party planner gets one of those eventually.
(They pause in their perambulation at the sight of a team getting in a bit of practice in a clearing beyond the edge of the complex. Earth pony buck, pegasus catch/throw, unicorn basket control for the score—all are done expertly, and the three trade high fives, taking no notice of the worry and mild hostility coming their way from the mares. Fluttershy shifts her attention to Snips/Snails and their autograph enterprise. Cut to them, the former colt taking the bits from customers and the latter stamping an inked hoof onto whatever they set before him: ball, cap, even a stallion’s bared chest.)
Fluttershy: (from o.s.) I hope Snails finishes signing autographs soon. (Back to her, Pinkie, and Rainbow.) We can’t play without him, and if we lose or forfeit one game, we’ll be out of the tournament.
Rainbow: (grumbling, pacing) Well, he better get his flank over here, then. You have to win the first few games without me cheering you on.
Fluttershy: Oh! Why?
Rainbow: (sighing) Applejack was too busy to come, so— (pulling out/unfolding a brochure) —she made me promise to go to all the museum exhibits and tell her about them. (Put it away.) I’m gonna try and get in first and beat the crowd so I can get back to the tournament faster.
Pinkie: Ooh! Then you’d better hurry! (pointing) Looks like there’s already a line! (Rainbow swivels her head to see.)
Rainbow: What?!?
(Cut to the front entrance of the Buckball Hall of Fame museum, as seen in the newsreel. The doors are closed, and two items have been set up at the base of the front steps: a folding lawn chair and a tent emblazoned with the eight-point compass rose that is Daring Do’s cutie mark. Rainbow flies into view toward the doors; extreme close-up of one handle as she tugs mightily but fails to budge it, then cut to her again on the start of the next line.)
Rainbow: The doors aren’t even open yet.
(Zoom out to frame the tent and chair, the latter now holding a red/white/blue baseball cap and short red scarf.)
Rainbow: (landing by these) What kinda sports fan camps out for a museum?
(She gets her answer when the tent’s occupant backs out into the light—it is Quibble Pants, the nitpicking earth pony stallion she met in “Stranger Than Fan Fiction.” He has traded the bush shirt he wore in that episode for a golf shirt with blue trim at the hem and red at the sleeves.)
Quibble: The real question is, what kind of sports fan doesn’t?
Rainbow: (gasping, stunned) Quibble Pants?!
Quibble: (donning cap) Rainbow Dash! Fancy meeting you here! (He drops to his haunches and adjusts it just so.)
Rainbow: Fancy meeting me? (He stands and nips up the scarf, draping it around his neck.) I-I’m a sports pony. Of course I’d be here. What’s fancy is you being here—if “fancy” meant “confusing.”
Quibble: There’s nothing fancy or confusing about it. Y-You can’t keep me away from that—that buckball rink. I’m-I’m the biggest fan there is.
(He delivers the preceding line with a noticeable degree of forced enthusiasm, which is further underscored by the strained grin he tacks on at its end. Rainbow aims a quizzical glance at him, then the stadium.)
Rainbow: Uh, it’s a buckball field. And…you are?
Quibble: Oh, pfft, sure. Wh-What with all the bu-bucking, and the balling, o-on the buckball field, wh-which is where they play buckball.
(Close-up of Rainbow, who begins to regard him with a healthy degree of skepticism; both again on the start of the next line.)
Quibble: I-I-I s—I wanted to be first inside to experience the grand history of the sport. (sitting in chair) I-I guess only a real fan would understand that.
Rainbow: Whaaaa…?
Quibble: (standing, moving toward edge of platform) Oh, perfect timing.
(Coming up the steps toward him is Clear Sky, a bright pink unicorn mare with light blue-green eyes and whose straight mane/tail are striped in white and pastel shades of pink and blue. A short, pale blue scarf is tied around her neck, and her cutie mark is a paired sun and crescent moon. With her is Wind Sprint, a sour-looking pegasus filly: medium blue coat with a slight violet tinge, straight blue mane/tail shot with pink streaks, gray-violet eyes framed by birdcatcher spots at the outer corners and the bridge of the nose, cutie mark of a horseshoe within a fireball.)
Quibble: Rainbow Dash, I’d like you to meet Clear Sky— (tenderly, taking her hoof) —the most amazing pony I’ve ever met.
Rainbow: Um, you’ve met Daring Do, so that’s probably an exaggeration. (to Clear Sky, chuckling) No offense.
Clear Sky: None taken. When it comes to describing your special somepony, a little exaggeration’s normal. (to Quibble, touching his shoulder) And I feel the same way about you.
(Her voice is quite pleasant. Mare and stallion happily rub noses, prompting Wind Sprint to let her tongue loll out in disgust at the sappy display before Rainbow leans down to her.)
Rainbow: And who is this?
Clear Sky: This is my daughter Wind Sprint.
Quibble: (chuckling, scooping Wind Sprint up) And she is pretty amazing too.
(In close-up, he settles her on his shoulders.)
Clear Sky: (from o.s.) Wind… (Zoom out to frame her.) …did you thank Quibble for camping out so we’d be first in line?
Wind Sprint: (woodenly) Thanks.
(On the first part of the next line, he sets her down, the camera cuts to a close-up of her being put in the lawn chair, and a zoom out frames him now sitting alongside and peering closely at a brochure.)
Quibble: No problem. I-I-I probably would’ve done it anyway. I mean, I—I can’t wait to see the… (reading from page, forcing a chuckle) …“Evolution of the Buckbasket: From Farm to Field”! That—that sounds just—I mean, oh, wow! (showing it to her) There—there is a lot to see.
(A round of wild cheers draws the filly’s eyes toward the upper reaches of the stadium, full to brimming with spectators. A pegasus player darts up from within to intercept a ball, pitches it back down toward the field, and zooms after it.)
Wind Sprint: (pushing brochure away) I’d rather see the game. (She hops off the chair and hurries off.)
Quibble: Oh! (deflating, folding it up) Well, I-I mean—sure, that-that makes sense. We could just go to the tournament instead. (Set it aside; zoom out to frame him, her, Rainbow, and Clear Sky.)
Clear Sky: (firmly, magically dragging Wind Sprint back) No, Quibble planned this whole thing for us, and you could be a little more appreciative.
(The youngster gets upright just as the museum doors are opened. Quibble gestures hopefully toward them, but the mood is lost on Wind Sprint, who looks as if she would rather eat a ton of bricks without salt. Dissolve to the four walking through one of the exhibit galleries inside.)
Rainbow: (to Wind Sprint, scoffing) I kinda wanted to skip the museum too. (Quibble shoots her a dirty look; she hastily changes her tone, then briefly shows off her brochure as she continues.) Buuuut I promised a friend that I’d check out all the exhibits.
Wind Sprint: (stopping, rolling eyes) Ugh! All of them?
(Concerned glances from the three adults.)
Quibble: (crossing to her) You know, I-I’d like a chance to catch up with Rainbow Dash. Why don’t we split up? (She slinks off.) We’ll-We’ll cover more ground that way and…
(Only now does he notice that she has cleared out and is skulking away through the gallery. Clear Sky trots after her as Rainbow doubles back to Quibble with a knowing smile.)
Rainbow: Soooo… (nudging him; he smiles) …you and Clear Sky, huh?
Quibble: Oh, yeah, she’s great. (glancing toward Clear Sky/Wind Sprint) Honestly, I’ve never been happier. (frantically, grabbing at Rainbow) Which is why I need your help!
(He whisks her away behind a display case; on the next line, zoom out to frame more of the hall as he indicates its contents in general.)
Quibble: I don’t know what any of this stuff is! (Close-up.)
Rainbow: What do you mean?
Quibble: S-See this?
(He stands up and moves to a collection of shelved items; she follows.)
Quibble: (stammering, picking up a ball) I-I don’t know what it is!
Rainbow: (puzzled) A ball?
Quibble: (dropping to haunches, grabbing a basket, stammering) A-and this? No idea!
Rainbow: It’s a basket. How do you not know what these are?
Quibble: I’m not even a hundred percent sure what bucking is! I-I literally know nothing about buckball, or any other sport!
Rainbow: (smiling) Well, I figured you weren’t the sportiest pony in Equestria.
Quibble: (setting basket on floor) But Wind Sprint is, and her dad was some big athlete too! I c—I-I can’t compete with that.
(A weak toss of the ball bounces off the rim and rolls away, and a vexed Rainbow trots after it.)
Quibble: I really want things with Clear Sky to work out, but if Wind doesn’t like me, I-I-I might as well give up.
(He picks up the basket on the end of this and is mildly surprised to see the ball land neatly inside, having been tossed from an angle. A longer shot frames one bewildered blue pegasus hovering just in front of him, the source of the toss.)
Rainbow: Uh, why?
Quibble: They’re a family. (He sets the basket down as she lands.) Even if it’s okay with Clear Sky— (Stand up.) —I wouldn’t ask them to make me a part of it if Wind Sprint isn’t on board.
(A smiling wave from Clear Sky jolts him out of this blue funk; in close-up, he puts on a big grin and waves back before turning away in Rainbow’s general direction.)
Quibble: I thought if I could convince Wind I was some big buckball fan, we’d have something to bond over, but I’m…I’m pretty sure she’s on to me.
Rainbow: (from o.s.) Here.
(The ball is tossed into view toward him. Hooves scrabble on red rubber but fail to gain a purchase, and it bounces off the floor to clip him under the chin before he throws himself flat to pin it. Cut to Rainbow, hovering with the basket poised for a catch.)
Rainbow: Give it a shot. It’s easy.
(The stallion rises to his hind legs. Pulls back for a mighty throw. Loses his balance and topples backward o.s., a crash marking his introduction to one of the displays as the dropped ball bounces back into view. Setting the basket aside, Rainbow flaps across to where he has fetched up—stuck rump-first in a basket on a stand.)
Rainbow: (dryly) Yeah, I don’t think she’s fooled.
(His questing look toward Wind Sprint is met with a flat glare.)
Quibble: (to Rainbow) Could—could you talk to her? I-I mean, you’re a famous sports pony. Y-You’d know what to say. Maybe…you could…talk me up a little. (Pleading grin; Clear Sky doubles back to the pair.)
Rainbow: Heh. No problem. I’ve totally got your flank.
(She zooms away as pink forelegs latch onto orange-brown and pull mightily; the effort fails to dislodge Quibble, but does succeed in flipping him over. Now on all fours and wearing the basket like a turtle’s shell, he offers a weak grin. Across the way, Rainbow flies lazily backward to catch up with a still-unenthused Wind Sprint.)
Rainbow: (landing by her) Hmph. Trust me, the game’s a lot harder to play with apples.
Wind Sprint: (a bit surprised) You play?
Rainbow: (pointing across gallery) Who do you think taught them?
(Cut to a framed photo of Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Snails in their jerseys, Pinkie lifting a ball on a front hoof. On the start of the next line, zoom out to frame it hanging on a wall with a descriptive plaque beneath; Rainbow and Wind Sprint approach it.)
Rainbow: Of course, being a Wonderbolt takes up most of my time, so I don’t get to practice as much as I’d like.
Wind Sprint: (smiling) Wait. You’re Rainbow Dash? (Cut to Rainbow; she continues o.s.) The Wonderbolt? (Both again.) Whoa, my dad was a great flyer too.
Rainbow: Hm. You don’t say. (draping a wing across Wind Sprint’s shoulders, leading her away) You know, Quibble’s pretty sporty too.
(They stop short, disbelief spray-painting itself across both faces, and the camera zooms out to present a good clear view of the reason. Quibble has a death grip on the nearest countertop and is bracing himself so that Clear Sky can exert the full strength of her field to yank at the basket jammed onto his rump. It snaps free after a long moment’s strain; he is thrown forward and o.s, knocking off every loose item, and the resulting crash makes the two mares’ eyes bug out.)
Wind Sprint: (sourly) If you say so.
(Rainbow claps a disgusted wing over her own face. Wipe to the foursome in the museum’s gift shop; Clear Sky has put aside the basket and has a shopping bag under her control, while Wind Sprint stares disinterestedly at a bin of balls.)
Rainbow: (chuckling a bit) I think I’ve seen enough of this museum for three Applejacks. Let’s go watch some buckball!
Quibble: That sounds awesome! Oh, but first… (singsong; Clear Sky maneuvers the bag down) …I got you a little surprise.
(The filly eagerly digs in, only to extract a book thick and heavy enough to act as a better-than-average doorstop. Her face falls.)
Wind Sprint: Oh. A book. (She drops it, crushing the bag flat, and stands up.)
Quibble: (sitting, laughing, picking it up) Oh, not just a book. (showing cover—a ball in a basket) It’s a buckball almanac! (Flip pages.) This thing has every buckball fact and statistic ever recorded!
Wind Sprint: Wow.
Quibble: I know! I-I never realized there was so much math in buckball! I-I mean, this game’s got more numbers than Ogres and Oubliettes! (Snorting laugh; he shuts the book and holds it out to Wind Sprint. Long pause.)
Wind Sprint: (tentatively) Thanks?
Quibble: (deflating) I-I-I guess I could…hold it for you…you know, so you don’t have to carry it.
Wind Sprint: Can we go to the game now?
Clear Sky: Sure, honey. (Wind Sprint starts away, smiling; she addresses Quibble.) Listen, Q, this trip was a lovely idea and the book was sweet, but— (Close-up of his crestfallen visage; she continues o.s.) —you don’t have to try so hard. (The three adults again.) Everything’s gonna be fine.
(Planting a kiss on his cheek that fails to raise his spirits, she trots off after her daughter.)
Quibble: (to Rainbow) Not even my presents are in the ball court. (He puts the almanac down.)
Rainbow: Uh, do you mean “ballpark”?
Quibble: Do I? I don’t know! (stammering) One thing’s for sure—Wind is never gonna like a pony like me!
(With that, he flops resignedly to the floor so that his chin ends up resting on the massive volume in close-up. Zoom out as a now-hovering Rainbow hoists him up to a haunch-sitting position by his shoulders.)
Rainbow: Of course she will. (Land.) She just needs to see your sporty side.
Quibble: I don’t have a sporty side.
Rainbow: Everypony has a sporty side— (Close-up of him; she continues o.s.) —and we’re gonna find yours!
(A sky-blue hoof jabs into his chest; cut to frame both.)
Rainbow: By the end of the day, I am gonna turn you into the sportiest pony in Equestria!
(Her assertion touches off a round of panicked shivers and a minor tidal wave of sweat from beneath the grayscale mane. Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to a long shot of the stadium, seen from outside in an overhead shot, as fans make their way toward the entrances. Zoom in slowly and cut to Rainbow, Clear Sky, Quibble, and Wind Sprint among them, the filly lifting off and flying ahead.)
Quibble: (to Rainbow) Look, I’m not saying it’s a terrible idea, but it’s a terrible idea! (sweating) You can’t turn me into an athlete! It’s impossible!
Rainbow: (scoffing) It’s either that— (smirking) —or be yourself and bond with Wind over comic books and role-playing games.
(A glance ahead informs them that Wind Sprint has thrown herself into a grunting loop-the-loop; she lands at the end of the entrance queue with a laugh as Clear Sky crosses to her.)
Quibble: (to Rainbow, laughing disdainfully) Uh, I have a seventeen Charisma, right? Don’t you think I tried? (rattled) She doesn’t even like Daring Do. She thinks she’s not athletic enough! (Rainbow pops into a startled hover.)
Rainbow: What?!? (composing herself, pushing him o.s.) Wow. We need to get started on Operation Sportify ASAP.
(Pronounced “A-sap.” Dissolve to a long overhead shot of a buckball field set up on a desert plain and bisected by a short running track that runs perpendicular to the midfield line. The baskets stand on poles at opposite ends of this, and Rainbow and Quibble are at midfield. He has changed into a sleeveless jersey and sweatbands on his forehead and forelegs; she now wears a baseball cap and a whistle on a lanyard around her neck. The blue feathers work a ball back and forth over the hunched-down ace flyer’s back as the camera zooms in.)
Rainbow: To figure out what your sporty side is— (Stands up; roll it from side to side.) —we just need to see what your skills are. Everypony’s got something.
(Quibble has barely enough time to adjust his headband before she flies into his face, having set the ball aside.)
Rainbow: Speed…
(She jumps straight to high gear, leaving a multicolored contrail and a thick cloud of dust in her wake as she flies several dozen laps around him. Once she stops and the haze begins to clear, she drifts over to get a firm grip on his back.)
Rainbow: …strength…
(Now he finds himself being hefted over her head and lifted several feet off the ground to boot, prompting a fearful cry. Cut to a clump of cacti; Rainbow flies into view, no longer carrying him, and cuts a quick string of impossibly tight hairpin turns to thread among them without brushing a single needle.)
Rainbow: …agility…
(With a chuckle, she pulls into a lazy hover before him.)
Rainbow: …’course, some ponies can do it all.
Quibble: You’re amazing, but what about me?
Rainbow: Right. (Land.) We should probably start small. I’ll pass the ball to you, and you just pass it back to me. Okay? (She moves off.)
Quibble: (to himself) Okay, uh-huh.
(The self-appointed coach circles to stand behind the ball she was using and gives it a gentle push. The red sphere rolls slowly along the track toward the trainee, who muscles down his raging case of nerves and crouches down as if preparing to tear it limb from limb. The approach continues…he raises a foreleg as high as it will go…the ball keeps rolling…extreme close-up of the limb.)
Quibble: (from o.s.) Aaaaand… (Long shot of both; he goes for the kick.) …buckball!
(The only wrinkle is that he utterly fails to make contact and ends up flopping onto his belly as the ball comes a stop near his tail.)
Quibble: Ow.
(A close-up picks out the sweat that is now rolling down his face and dampening his clothing. He raises his gloomy face as Rainbow’s shadow falls over him.)
Rainbow: (from o.s.) Ooo-kay… (Cut to frame both.) …maybe agility’s not your thing.
(Wipe to a long shot of the two and Snips at the far end of the track. Rainbow is hovering, and the colt is wearing exercise gear similar to Quibble’s; these two are standing in adjacent lanes.)
Rainbow: Ready?
Quibble: If I say no, do I still have to run?
Rainbow: Yep.
Snips: Can we get on with this? Snails and I did so well with the autographs, we decided to expand.
(He points ahead; pan quickly in that direction and stop on his friend, sitting on the parched desert soil amid piles and baskets of merchandise bearing his likeness. He is holding a stack of pictures in his magic and blithely stamp-signing his way through them.)
Snips: (from o.s.) And these souvenirs are not going to sell themselves. (Snails waves; cut to Rainbow and Quibble.)
Rainbow: Remember, think speed. (She backs off.)
Quibble: Got it.
Rainbow: On your marks… (Cut to Quibble and Snips, tensing for the start; she continues o.s.) …get set… (Zoom in to an extreme close-up of Quibble’s determined face.)
Quibble: Speed. (Eyes close.) Speed… (Back to Rainbow.)
Rainbow: GO!!
(Accompanied by a blast on her whistle and a cut to a profile close-up of the unlikely athlete, who springs into a mad gallop as dust boils up and sweat pours down.)
Quibble: Speed, speed, speed, speed, speed, speed, speed, speed…
(The murk fills the screen for a moment, then clears to present a head-on view of him, now standing still.)
Quibble: Whoo! Okay! What a race, right?
(His elated mood swiftly melts away into dejection as the camera zooms out quickly. The reality is that he has barely made it off the starting line, while Snips is now at the other end—the dust kicked up was his.)
Quibble: Oh. So much for speed.
Snips: (removing headband; Snails levitates the souvenirs) Uh, this was fun, but I’ve gotta get back to work.
(The two unicorns amble away as a signed souvenir card drifts past the camera. Behind it, wipe to a close-up of a sweaty Quibble lying on his back atop a stack of books and straining to lift something cut off by the top edge of the screen. A hovering Rainbow hunkers down close by.)
Rainbow: Come on, Quibble. You got this!
Quibble: (with effort) I…got…this!
(Zoom out; the weight is a stack of two medium-thickness tomes, and this workout is taking place on the platform outside the museum.)
Quibble: I…
(His forelegs wobble under the strain before giving out entirely, and he lets them tumble with a weary groan.)
Quibble: (covering face, sitting up) This is hopeless! I…I don’t have any skills! Not agility, not speed, I…I can’t even lift more than one book, a-and I love books!
Rainbow: If we had time to train, I know I could mold you into the perfect sports pony.
(Savage grin; Quibble stands up and steps away from the literary weight bench, only for his tail to drag a portion of it loose.)
Rainbow: Uh…or at least a sportier pony.
Quibble: (trying to kick books back into place) Who knows how long that would take? (stomping) I…I need to get Wind to like me now! (Cheers drift in from the stadium.)
Rainbow: Maybe you’re not the best athlete in Equestria, or the most coordinated, or the fastest, or, uh…even a little bit strong. (He bristles at each bit of this assessment; she lands facing him.)
Quibble: I-I’m sorry, wait. Is this supposed to be making me feel better? Because it’s not.
Rainbow: (hooking foreleg around shoulder, pulling him close) Buuut none of that matters, because I just figured out how to sportify you!
(He manages a very wobbly grin before the view dissolves to a long overhead shot of the stadium and zooms in slowly. Every seat in the house is once again filled, and a cut to field level frames Pinkie standing at midfield and dribbling the ball back and forth between her front hooves. Ponyville is playing against the team seen practicing outside the stadium in Act One, whose earth pony starts to sweat a bit as he bobs from side to side to mirror the ball’s motion. Finally he gathers himself and rushes Pinkie, only for the mare to flip it high over the midfield line, jump to his side of it, and deliver an expert buck. Fluttershy makes a tail-assisted catch and spinning pass, which zooms past the outstretched forelegs of her opposite number and thunks into a basket levitated by Snails—who has bent down to smell a flower and is not even keeping an eye on the game. He has finally had a chance o clean the ink off the hoof he was using to sign the masses of souvenirs brought to him by Snips. A whistle blast from the referee, cheers from the Ponyville supporters in the stands, and an announcer stallion’s voice is heard over the loudspeakers.)
Announcer 2: And with that score, the stars of Team Ponyville advance to the next round. (Said team gathers at midfield.) If they keep winning like this, they’ll never get off the field!
(On this second sentence, they pile up one front hoof each in the space between them and their defeated opponents hang their heads in dejection. Up on the stands, both Clear Sky and Wind Sprint are intently following the proceedings.)
Wind Sprint: Wow! The players from Ponyville are so good!
Quibble: (from o.s.) They sure are.
(Her delight turns to stony apathy in less time than it takes to say “buzzkill”; here he comes down the aisle steps toward their seats, now back in his golf shirt, cap, and scarf.)
Clear Sky: Quibble! Where have you been? I was hoping we’d all watch the tournament together.
(Rainbow peeks into view from the top of the steps, having shed her cap and whistle, and throws an encouraging gesture to the stallion.)
Quibble: (casually) Oh, I’ve just been arranging for us to hang out with a few of my close friends—from Team Ponyville. (Wind Sprint grins broadly.) That is, if Wind’s up for it.
(The youngster’s mood is not shifted one whit by the concern that has come over her mother’s face. Wipe from Quibble’s hopeful grin to a closed door in the wall that runs around the perimeter of the field. It is opened from the other side by Rainbow, who strolls out as Wind Sprint gallops ahead.)
Clear Sky: (walking out with Quibble) This is wonderful, Q— (Close-up of these two.) —but I still feel like you’re trying too hard to get Wind’s approval. (Zoom out to frame a hovering Wind Sprint on the following.)
Wind Sprint: This is so great! (looping-the-loop, landing) Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy are the best players out there!
Rainbow: Well, you can thank Quibble. (Cut to him; she continues o.s.) Wonderbolts? Buckball stars? (He grins, a touch evasively.) He’s friends with the sportiest ponies around. (All four again; she nudges Wind Sprint.) So he must be pretty sporty too, right?
Pinkie: (galloping up to Quibble) Ooooh! So this is Quibble Pants! (poking him lightly) Rainbow Dash told us all about how you two spent a whole Daring Do convention geeking out together about books!
(Fluttershy descends to land near them as he bashfully adjusts his cap.)
Fluttershy: And even though at first she thought you were the most annoying fan-pony she ever met, you two eventually became friends.
(This bit of the account rankles him somewhat and throws a monkey wrench into Wind Sprint’s brain. Long pause.)
Quibble: (scratching back of head) Uhhhhh…
Clear Sky: I guess even sports ponies agree. Quibble’s a pony you like more and more over time.
Wind Sprint: (rolling eyes) Ugh. Knowing sports ponies isn’t the same as being one. (to Fluttershy/Pinkie, smiling) What’s it like, playing in front of all those fans?
Fluttershy: Ummmmm… (Pinkie grins unsteadily.)
Rainbow: (to Wind Sprint, thinking fast) I guess you’ll find out!
Wind Sprint: What do you mean? (Cut to Quibble on the next line.)
Quibble: (suspiciously) Yes, what do you mean?
Rainbow: I think it’s time we told Wind about your next surprise.
Clear Sky: Q, Wind really doesn’t need any more surprises. (He grins and tugs at his collar; cut to Wind Sprint.)
Wind Sprint: (surly) Is it another book?
Rainbow: (from o.s.) A, books are awesome— (Longer shot, framing all xix.) —and B, this is way more awesomer than that. For the tournament halftime show, you and Quibble are gonna play a game of buckball against Team Ponyville!
Quibble: (aghast) We’re what?!?
(Terrified sweat trickles down around the bugged-out blue eyes before he view snaps to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to a long overhead shot of the stadium, zooming in slowly, then cut to a freaked-out, sweaty-faced Quibble on the field. He has shed his cap and scarf and traded his shirt for a white jersey trimmed in red and light blue, and a smiling Wind Sprint comes in for a landing as Snips steps up to fill the goalie position. They wear jerseys to match his, and he offers a frightened wave. Wind Sprint sets her features in steely resolve, plucks a ball from a waiting bin, and rises into the air for a mighty throw. Snips calmly floats up his basket to catch the ball, both foals wave cheerfully, and Wind Sprint scoops up a few more balls. Spinning in place like a blue-violet tornado, she launches these into a cluster of high, tight arcs; Snips has no trouble catching every shot and nods tranquilly. Quibble, on the other hand, adopts the look of one who has just come to the full, horrible realization of exactly how far out of his depth he really is. He offers a very scared grin and wave as Rainbow swoops down to him, decked out in her cap and whistle.)
Rainbow: (grabbing/stretching one of his legs at a time) Uh, you should probably stretch.
Quibble: No amount of stretching is gonna make this okay! What were you thinking?! (Close-up of Rainbow.)
Rainbow: Look, you wanted to impress Wind Sprint, and this just made sense.
Quibble: (from o.s., bitterly, yanking leg away) Really? (Cut to frame both.) How does me making a fool of myself in front of her, Sky, and a billion buckball fans make sense?
Rainbow: Don’t worry. I’ve got your flank. I already talked to Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy. They’re totally gonna make you look good.
(She winks to him and flips a signal to the two blue-clad mares at the opposite end of the field, who acknowledge in like manner.)
Quibble: Oh. Okay. (smiling) Well, maybe this isn’t the absolute worst idea ever.
Announcer 2: Mares and stallions, foals and colts! Put your hooves together for today’s halftime presentation, as buckball’s biggest stars take on a team of fans just like you!
(During this line, the two squads gather at midfield and Wind Sprint claps on an ecstatic grin; Quibble, though, instantly loses any shred of composure as the crowd goes ape. A pennant is swung across the screen, the view wiping behind it to a close-up of the referee with ball in hoof and whistle in mouth. Pinkie and Quibble are standing ready at midfield, the camera zooming out to frame them, and the ref sounds a blast and throws the ball down for the buck-off. Quibble’s eyes shift from it to the hovering Wind Sprint; across the way, Pinkie maintains an enigmatic smile. The scarlet spheroid reaches its apogee and begins to descend, but Quibble fails to pay it any mind. Seeing that the exhibition is about to go straight down the toilet, the pink mare reaches across and levers one of his hind legs up to the horizontal. The ball bounces off it, he smiles at having “won” the buck-off—and the ball sails toward the Ponyville basket, held aloft by Snails as he sits meditating. An effortless catch snaps him back to the here and now, and all three Ponyville players frown worriedly as Wind Sprint shoots a nasty look down toward Quibble amid the crowd’s hearty vocal response.)
Announcer 2: And that’s one for the Ponyville champs. (Pinkie grins, embarrassed, and slowly lowers Quibble’s leg.) Looks like these fans don’t know what they signed up for.
(Wipe to a long shot of a new buck-off and zoom in slowly to the sound of the ref’s whistle. Fluttershy snags the ball with her tail in close-up, whirls it behind herself like a sling, but quickly shifts gears with an easy toss and a flick off the end. It drops toward Pinkie, who snaps her forelock to send it backwards over her head; at it homes in faultlessly toward the team’s goal, Wind Sprint hurls herself up to intercept. This move earns her a round of cheers from the spectators, but her joy sours upon noticing Quibble’s enthusiastic “I’m open” wave.)
Fluttershy: (from o.s., slightly stilted) Oh, no! (Cut to her, pointing down toward him.) Quibble’s wide open and I’ll never get there in time to block!
(She takes her time with her descent, giving the filly plenty of opportunity to aim carefully and let fly. The ball hurtles toward Quibble and his sweaty, cringing countenance; he squeezes his eyes shut and raises both hind legs for a blind buck, the action shifting to slow motion as the ball passes cleanly between his hooves. Normal speed immediately resumes to the sound of disappointed groans, and the ball bounces past a surprised Fluttershy and stops when Rainbow plants a hoof on it. Quibble’s jersey is now showing more than a few sweat stains.)
Announcer 2: Ooh! Looks like our fan team needs to work on their passing.
(The uncoordinated stallion aims a placating grin up to Wind Sprint, who just flaps away in wordless contempt; his offering rebuffed, he lets his head droop. Wipe to a new buck-off, Pinkie now balanced on the end of her tail and smiling down at Quibble. The whistle sounds, the ball ends up in Fluttershy’s tail, and she whirls in place to build up momentum and sends down a red rubber rocket. Wind Sprint leaps to midfield and bucks it away herself, earning an ear-to-ear grin from Quibble; he gets on the move, tracking its high, narrow flight path, and adjusts his position just a bit before taking his stand. Three panels slide into view to fill the screen, divided by diagonal lines and each presenting a close-up a different player: Left to right: Fluttershy gasping in fear, Pinkie grinning and giggling, Wind Sprint showing almost zero interest or support.)
(From here, cut to an extreme close-up of Quibble’s tensing haunch, then to the plummeting ball, then to an overhead shot of the panicked pony. The hind legs lash up and score a direct hit, sending it in a long arc downfield and over the head of a thunderstruck Wind Sprint. Fluttershy and Pinkie gasp in turn as the ball plops into Snails’ basket, setting off a multitude of cheers and leaving the young unicorn completely stunned. Quibble just grins over his feat.)
Announcer 2: And the fan team finally scores! (Pause.) For the other side.
(These last four words drive home the full weight of his blunder; he recoils and risks an over-shoulder glance that presents him with a good clear view of Wind Sprint’s disapproving scowl.)
Announcer 2: That makes three! Team Ponyville wins!
(Rainbow claps a hoof to her face in complete disbelief at how badly her plan has gone off the rails. Wipe to an extreme close-up of the midfield line as Quibble throws down the almanac he bought at the gift shop in Act One, then cut to him and the referee.)
Quibble: (flipping pages; the other players gather around) It says very clearly on page six-forty-seven of the expanded buckball tournament rules that a goal is scored when an earth pony sends the ball into a basket.
(Close-up of the book on the end of this, a hoof jabbing at one particular section, then cut to him.)
Quibble: But it doesn’t say which basket! (Pan slightly to frame a hovering Rainbow on the next line.)
Rainbow: (landing) Yeah, I’m pretty sure everypony knows you’re not supposed to score in the other team’s goal.
Quibble: (lifting/pointing at book) But the rules don’t say that! (Leaving it aside, he advances on her.) If that goal is ours, it’s only two to one and we can keep playing.
Wind Sprint: (from o.s., petulantly) I don’t want to!
(Here she comes, a worried Clear Sky close behind.)
Wind Sprint: You’re not a sports pony. (stomping) It’s not fun playing this game with you!
(As she gallops off the field, Clear Sky shoots a venomous look at Quibble.)
Quibble: (crushed, crossing to her) I was just…trying to get her to like me.
Clear Sky: I know! (Stomp.) But I told you you didn’t need to! You and I have to rethink all of this.
(She takes her leave, Quibble managing no response aside from a choked little noise of fear at the back of his throat followed by a heavy sigh. He plods away as Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Rainbow trade glances of profoundest concern. Dissolve to an extreme close-up of the almanac, held open by Quibble with the camera aimed at the cover. On the next line, he lowers it to expose a look of complete surprise.)
Rainbow: (from o.s.) What are you doing out here?
(Longer shot: he is sitting on one of the sets of steps leading up to the complex’s platform. She stands at their base, facing him and without her cap and whistle. He is back in his shirt, cap, and scarf. A lone tumbleweed rolls past.)
Quibble: Apparently this book is as close to sports as I’ll ever get.
Rainbow: Come on. That goal you scored for the other team was amazing! (He groans; cut to him.)
Quibble: Thanks for trying, Rainbow Dash, but I think we can both agree the whole “sportify” idea was a big flop.
(To emphasize this last word, he forcefully closes the covers and sets the thing aside.)
Rainbow: What?! (His eyes pop; cut to frame both.) We haven’t even gotten started! (hovering to sit next to him, throwing foreleg across shoulders) I’ve got, like seven more top-notch ideas to turn you into a super-sporty pony!
Quibble: (groaning) Wind’s already made up her mind, and…so have I. (standing, walking off) Time to throw up the towel.
Rainbow: It’s “throw in the towel.” (following) And that’s ridiculous! You can’t just give up!
Quibble: Wind and Sky deserve a pony they both like in their lives. Besides, Sky wants to rethink things, so I’m just beating her to the lunch.
Rainbow: It’s “beating her to the punch,” and it’s barely a sports reference. How do you not know that?
Quibble: (emphasizing every word, backing her down) Because I don’t know anything about sports!
(By the time he reaches the end of the outburst, she has dropped to her haunches and been treated to a nose-to-nose view of his popping eyes and the sweat streaming around them. He backs off, all the fire instantly going out of him.)
Quibble: And pretending I did just made things worse.
Rainbow: (standing, moving closer) So you should stop pretending! Look. You are terrible at sports. (circling to poke his chest) You’re uncoordinated, slow, weak— (He slaps her hoof away.)
Quibble: (scratching back of head) Okay, again, not really making me feel better.
Rainbow: And you’re completely clueless about anything having to do with athletics. But maybe I’m not the pony you should have come to for help?
Quibble: (smiling, catching on) Oh.
(Dissolve to one of the museum galleries, in which Clear Sky is chaperoning a sulky Wind Sprint; the filly has shed her game jersey.)
Wind Sprint: I wish we didn’t even come here.
Clear Sky: Quibble thought you’d like it.
Wind Sprint: Well, I don’t. And I don’t like him. Why do you like him?
Clear Sky: (smiling) Because he’s kind, and smart, and his friends certainly seem to care about him, which is always a good sign.
Wind Sprint: I don’t care how many ponies care about him. (stomping) They’re not gonna make me forget about Dad. (She turns away.)
Clear Sky: (resting a hoof on her back) Oh, sweetheart. I know Quibble’s trying too hard, but he doesn’t want you to stop loving your dad. He just wants you to like him. And I think maybe there’s enough room in your heart to do both. (Sound of approaching hooves.)
Quibble: (from o.s.) Hey there.
(Zoom out slightly to show him now facing Wind Sprint, then cut to frame Rainbow walking in.)
Quibble: Glad I found you, because I have a confession to make. I…know it’s hard to imagine, but I’m… (Scratch back of head.) …really not all that sporty. (Big dumb grin; Clear Sky affects a gasp of faked shock.)
Clear Sky: No! (Wind Sprint smiles; slow pan across the four.)
Quibble: I’m sorry I was trying so hard to convince you otherwise. I just really wanted us to get along, but… (Deep breath.) …I guess it backfired. (stammering a bit) Do you think we could start over?
(The youngster scowls confusedly up at him.)
Quibble: (smiling hopefully) Maybe we could watch some of the tournament together and…you could teach me some sports stuff?
(After glancing back at her mother and getting an encouraging nod in return, Wind Sprint offers a small smile to Quibble. Dissolve to Pinkie on the field, bouncing a ball off her rump and sending a drive across the midfield line. The opposing team’s pegasus puts up a hoof to stop it but gets only air, and the shot whumps into the basket under Snails’ control in close-up.)
Wind Sprint: (from o.s.) Okay.
(Zoom out to put her in the fore, watching the game from the stadium’s lower level.)
Wind Sprint: (pointing) That’s their goal.
(Head-on shot: she is hanging onto the perimeter wall, and she and Quibble have front-row seats.)
Quibble: (as she takes hers again) I’ll try to remember that if I ever decide to play buckball again—but I probably won’t. (pointing) Oh, look. Pinkie Pie’s gonna flip and triple-bounce the ball into the goal.
(Pinkie proceeds to do a backflip while galloping forward, bounce on her tail three times as if it were a pogo stick, and slam the flying ball with her head. A desperate dive gets the defense a whole lot of nothing, and the shot hits home to send the crowd into a frenzy of cheers.)
Wind Sprint: (surprised) How did you know that?
Quibble: (pulling out/opening almanac, showing her a page, stammering a bit) It-it’s right here. (reading) “Pinkie flips and triple-bounce-bucks over eighty-three percent of her shots from the northwest section of the field when the wind is blowing from the east.”
(On this last, he holds up a leaf that bends in the breeze as a direction gauge.)
Wind Sprint: Huh. (He puts it down; she takes the almanac.) I guess this book’s kind of cool after all.
(Gray-violet eyes bore into the pages as he wipes away a happy tear at having finally found a bit of shared interest. He turns to his other side, the camera panning slightly to bring Clear Sky into view—sitting and slurping from a soda held in her magic.)
Quibble: Look, Sky, I know you’re thinking of calling it quits between us, and after today, I don’t blame you. (excitedly, smiling) But Wind and I just made a connection!
Clear Sky: Calling it quits? What are you talking about?
Quibble: You said you wanted to rethink things.
Clear Sky: (smiling) Yeah! (glancing to her other side; Rainbow sits here) Things like having your friend help you pretend to be a sports pony so Wind would like you.
(The Wonderbolt is very slightly needled at this dig.)
Quibble: (stammering badly) Wha—? I don’t—I—oh! I didn’t—what? (Dopey grin.)
(Clear Sky aims her sly smile at him, then at Rainbow.)
Rainbow: (stammering, flapping, scratching back of head) Wha—? Nah.
Wind Sprint: (crossing to them, opening almanac) Mom! Look what Quibble showed me! (reading; close-up of her and Clear Sky) “When Fluttershy flies higher than the other pegasus, Pinkie scores ninety-two percent of the time.” And it just happened!
Clear Sky: Wow! (rubbing Wind Sprint’s head) You better watch out, or you’re gonna start to like books.
Wind Sprint: I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. (She tucks herself in between Clear Sky and Quibble.)
Clear Sky: (to Quibble) Huh. Looks like you didn’t need sportiness, famous ponies, or lavish gifts to bond with Wind after all. (Cut to frame Rainbow on the next line.)
Rainbow: Technically, he still needed to buy her the book, but that’s it.
(Gentle laughter spreads from Clear Sky to Wind Sprint to Quibble, the filly getting her mane tousled by her mother, throwing a chummy foreleg around the non-sporty stallion, and getting one in return. Fade to black.)
SHE’S ALL YAK
Written by Brian Hohlfield
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to an extreme close-up of a notice being magically tacked up on a bulletin board—two ponies dancing against a pastel rainbow background—and zoom out to put Twilight Sparkle in the foreground, controlling it.)
Silverstream: (from o.s., gasping excitedly) See?
(Twilight pivots toward her voice, levitating a stack of extra copies, and finds all six student friends approaching. They are in a corridor of the School of Friendship.)
Silverstream: New posters! We never had those underwater!
(All six cluster in around the headmare, shouting a cacophony of questions until she speaks. Daytime sky is visible through the windows.)
Twilight: I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. We’re bringing one of Ponyville’s oldest traditions to our school—the Fetlock Fête! (Close-up of a confused Smolder.)
Smolder: (scratching head) The What-lock What? (Zoom out to frame Ocellus and Sandbar on the next line.)
Sandbar: It’s a pony dance party. They’re the best!
Ocellus: I’m ready!
(She proves it by transforming into a bucktoothed yellow earth pony filly and striking a pose.)
Twilight: (laughing) You don’t need to do that, Ocellus. This year, the event’s at school and open to everycreature. We’re calling our dance the Amity Ball.
Ocellus: Even better! (She reverts to her natural form; concern registers on Yona’s face.)
Yona: Yona not know Amity Ball dance. Yona only know traditional dance of Yakyakistan. Go like this!
(Namely: hurling herself back and forth through the corridor, shaking the entire building every time she lands and ending up a few yards down the way.)
Yona: Ball dance like that? (She flops onto her belly and stands up dizzily.)
Sandbar: (laughing, crossing to her) Not exactly. It isn’t just one dance, it’s a whole night of ’em! Plus an awesome party.
(Twilight moves toward a trophy cup in a display case—gold, topped by figurines of two ponies dancing with forelegs linked.)
Twilight: And we’ll have all the old Fetlock Fête traditions. The Pony Pal Contest, the Lucky Pot Dinner—you’ll love it! (levitating notices) So like this says, “Get your pony pal and come along!”
Smolder: (to Gallus) Want to go? I got nothing better to do.
Gallus: (slyly, snapping talons) You had me at “dinner.”
(The dragon returns the gesture and adds a wink, prompting a giggle from Silverstream.)
Twilight: (attaching a sheet to a wall) Now who wants to help me hang more posters?
Silverstream: Meeee!
Ocellus: Sure!
(The crowd disperses to leave Yona pondering the trophy; Sandbar hesitates for the briefest of moments before stepping up behind her.)
Sandbar: Hey, Yona! (blushing, bashfully) Want to be my pony pal? We can enter the contest together.
Yona: But…Yona yak. Yona not pony.
Sandbar: So?
(She points ahead; cut to her perspective, indicating each figurine on the trophy and one notice in turn.)
Yona: Pony, pony, more pony. (Back to the two.)
Sandbar: Aw, that’s just a poster. Come on! It’ll be tons of fun together. Promise. (Yona mulls it over, then smiles.)
Yona: Okay. Yona go with Sandbar.
(The pale green colt is taken slightly aback at her ready acceptance of his offer and the hoof being extended toward him. Once his brain kicks back into gear, he beams and shakes it with enthusiasm.)
Sandbar: Oh, great! I’ll get the tickets. (backing away) See you later!
(With a laugh and a merry click of his rear hooves, he trots off.)
Yona: (waving after him) Yona not let Sandbar down! Yak best at being pony pal! (to herself) But Yona not sure how, if she not pony.
(She is immediately bowled out of the way by a rumpled Rarity and the wheeled rack of dresses under her control. The unicorn has her reading glasses balanced on the bridge of her nose and a measuring tape draped across her shoulders. A longer shot puts Yona on the floor, the rack lodged across her humped back.)
Rarity: (floating/rolling it away, moving with it) Ooh! Oh, terribly sorry, Yona. All these dresses I’m sewing for the dance have me completely frazzled. (Yona stands up.)
Yona: Dress? (suddenly panicked) Yona need dress for dance? (Zoom in slowly.) Yona have lot to learn about being best pony pal.
(Fade to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to Rarity’s upper-story workspace and living quarters within the Carousel Boutique. Her glasses still on, her measuring tape gone, and her mane now back in order, she sits running her sewing machine to stitch up a dress. A knock at the closed door startles her into a yelp and a break in the action, and the bottom half swings open so Yona can poke her head in from the hall.)
Yona: Yona interrupting?
Rarity: (laughing nervously) Oh! Well, not interrupting, exactly. (floating up mis-stitched cloth) More like blocking the flow—uh, stopping me from what I’m do—so, yes, i-i-interrupting. (Toss it aside; compose herself.) Now, what can I do for you, Yona?
Yona: (opening top half of door, walking in) Yona not know yak need special pony dress for dance. Yona no can wear what Yona always wear?
Rarity: (crossing to her, levitating glasses away) Yona could—I mean, you could. But the Fetlock Fête, or whatever Twilight is calling it—it’s all about a tradition. There’s a certain way to do everything at the dance.
Yona: (enthusiastically, resting hoof on Rarity’s chest) Yes! That what Yona want to learn! How to do all the pony things, even if Yona has to wear dress.
Rarity: (flustered) Well, uh, y-y-yes, if that’s what you really want.
Yona: (nodding) Mmm-hmm! (Rarity brings the tape up in her aura and begins to take measurements.) Yona be best pony pal for Sandbar.
(The edge of the blanket across her back is lifted for a close examination as the tape drifts away.)
Rarity: In that case, at an elegant affair like a pony dance, one must converse in a sophisticated fashion.
(She floats up a bowl of Brussels sprouts and balances them on a hoof.)
Rarity: Talking with Brussels sprouts in your mouth helps you to learn to articulate.
(This last word is over-enunciated as one of the vegetables rises free.)
Rarity: Take a mouthful— (Two more come up; she rolls her next R.) —and repeat after me.
(All three are abruptly stuffed into Yona’s mouth to bulge her cheeks, and the bowl is set down.)
*** From here on in, all lines marked with an asterisk are delivered in a very refined, quasi-British accent. ***
* Rarity: How kind of you to ask me to tea.
(The young bovid tries to mimic the delivery, but can do no better than an overstuffed mumble.)
* Rarity: May I offer you a glass of punch? (More of the same; her field lifts and opens a parasol.) The weather is quite agreeable today.
(After copying this line as best she can, Yona chews and swallows her freight of leafy greens. The ensuing belch sets the whole place shaking, blows the parasol out of Rarity’s grip, and ejects a masticated fragment to stick on one white cheek. Irritated, she magically peels it away as Yona licks her chops and smiles.)
Yona: Yona like Brussels sprouts.
Rarity: (dryly) Let’s move on.
(She turns away to lead her pupil across the floor, a rain of these vegetables tumbling down past the camera. Behind them, the view wipes to their images reflected in a mirror of the ground-floor showroom, Yona’s broad face displaying more than a little trepidation.)
Rarity: (levitating one looped braid) We will need to do something about your hairstyle, but first…
(She releases her grip; cut to a longer shot. Yona is seated on a swivel chair before a vanity counter.)
Rarity: (trotting across room, turning chair 180 degrees) …let’s find the right dress.
(She returns, towing a rack of them, and begins sifting through the lot.)
Rarity: Now…purple taffeta…frosted chiffon… (Gasp.) …gold brocade! One of my favorites.
Yona: Yona like brown.
Rarity: (gagging, tongue lolling out in disgust) Earth tones. They’re so… (Forced giggle.) …earthy, aren’t they? (trotting away, pushing rack in her field) Don’t worry. We shall find something to make you stand out. (Yona jumps off her chair.)
Yona: Yona not want to stand out. Yona want to fit in.
Quiet piano melody, moderate 4 (D major)
(The designer returns, horn aglow to hold several strips of color samples not unlike those used to compare different shades of paint.)
Rarity: Ah, quite. And by the time we’re through, it’ll be like you’ve been going to pony dances your whole life.
Closed hi-hat cymbal on every second beat
(The strips drop to the floor.)
Rarity: The more you know how things are done
The more confident you’ll be
Acoustic guitar in
(A green dress hovers under her control and sets itself in front of Yona’s chest, drawing a grin.)
There’s more to a dance than just having fun
And there’s no better teacher than me
Percussion/brass in with a flourish
(She twirls across the showroom, clutching the garment.)
Rarity: Rarity!
Strings, winds in
Yona: Oh, Yona see!
Rarity: When I’m finished with you…
(She tosses the dress past the camera; being it, wipe to her using horn-power to apply makeup on the student’s face.)
Rarity: You’ll start to fit right in
(Zoom in to an extreme close-up of one ear, from which she peeks out.)
Listen to me when I say, once you learn the pony way
(Slide down the braid and launch off it to land amid a crowd of the Canterlot elite.)
You’ll start to fit right in
(Yona peeks curiously through behind her, makeup off.)
Yona: (spoken in rhythm) Right in!
(The others drift away, leaving these two alone.)
Rarity: No need to wait another day to be part of our smart soiree
Brass out; mandolin/bass guitar in; percussion drops back, but slowly builds
(A row of dresses materializes one at a time, leaving her in view but blocking out Yona; they are identical except for a brown one that switches to glittery purple at Rarity’s touch.)
Rarity: The perfect dress, a color all the rage but still unique
(Yona peeks through; Rarity sends the lot away and spins around her, shifting the braided mane to a waterfall of purple curls and putting her in a green dress trimmed with white lace. The makeup is back on.)
Now lose the braids, try a style more fantastique
(File and buffer are applied to a horn; an electric shaver goes to work on the mane.)
Here’s what we’ll do, we’ll hornicure and a de-frizz
(A burst of soap suds, and she is shampooing a sopping-wet, blanket-free Yona.)
We’ll dry-shampoo this—whatever yak part this is
Brass sneaks in
(More suds, and a now-dry Yona sits before the vanity with her makeup off, blanket on, braids restored, and the rest of her main puffed out into a curly brown mass. On each of the following adjectives, Rarity spins the yak’s chair to change the coiffure in color and style.)
Rarity: Too curly, too blue
Too retro, too new
(Up next: a copy of Twilight’s mane, followed by a mass of pale hair whose dangling end calls to mind an animal’s fluffy tail.)
Too “Twilight,” too furry
(This proves to be her cat Opalescence, who wakes up with a yawn and jumps away as Rarity pas Yona’s hoof.)
We’ll find one, don’t you worry
Piano out
(She jumps past, the view wiping behind her waving tail to frame her holding up a full-length mirror to a standing Yona. The glass reflects a light brown earth pony mare who matches Yona for eye/mane/tail color, braids/bows, and blanket; by the time Rarity completes a half-circle, the student and her image have traded places.)
Rarity: Choose what you want to be and be it, picture you want to see and see it
(She throws the mirror aside and shakes Pony Yona’s hoof; stars and a check mark frame her face as she winks for the camera.)
I’m the mare to guarantee it, you’ll fit right in
(She slides out of view as the background dissolves to the other students save Ocellus on the School grounds. Gallus, Sandbar, and Smolder have donned various duds. All faces break into surprised smiles as the camera cuts to Yona as a yak, now sporting a sun hat with a huge purple bow and carrying a matching parasol.)
My plan, my grand design, your friends will thrill to find
(Rarity pops up in the fore, wearing a violet top hat, as does a second, finery-free Yona.)
A new you that’s too divine, yeah, you’re gonna
Yona: Yona gonna
Piano in
(Both twirl toward the camera, the view fading to black and reassembling itself as a jigsaw puzzle that shows dozens of Ponyville residents, including Twilight and her friends. A second Rarity appears at one side of the screen, Yona in the opposite lower corner. Both have shed their accoutrements.)
Rarity, Yona: Fit right in
Yona: Right in
Rarity: Listen to me when I say, once you learn the pony way
(The puzzle splits vertically and slides apart to give an overhead shot of the pair twirling with forelegs joined. Zoom out to frame two concentric circles of ponies rotating in opposite directions. They are in a large chamber within the School.)
Rarity, Yona: You’ll/I’ll start to fit right in
Rarity: Right in
(Ground level: Yona gallops up and slides to a stop between one row of well-dressed stallions and a second of thoroughly primped mares. The ponies within each row are identical.)
Yona: Yak not waste another day to be part of your pony way
(Rarity sings the last word of this line with her, shifting into a higher vocal register; in a blink, Yona has pulled her to another part of the floor and both are up on their hind legs to do a dance step.)
Yona: Yak not waste another day to
Rarity, Yona: Fit right in
(The hairy would-be socialite tries to imitate a pirouette, but loses control of it and topples down a short flight of steps to land gracelessly on her belly in front of Rarity.)
Song ends in time with her impact
(Opal plops down squarely on the brown head, but jumps off in time with Rarity’s sudden gasp.)
Rarity: I almost forgot! The most important part of the ball!
Yona: (standing up, scoffing) Oh, Yona already have pony pal.
Rarity: (smiling) Oh, not that, darling. The dancing! And I know precisely who can help.
(She tosses a wink and sets off, Yona following eagerly. Dissolve to the School gym, where they arrive to find Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash waiting for them. Also present are a crank-operated phonograph and Fluttershy’s rabbit Angel.)
Yona: (to Rarity) Uh…Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy good at dancing? (Rainbow flies over to them.)
Rainbow: Don’t be so surprised. I’m awesome at everything. (Grin; continue sheepishly.) Except for baking. (Fluttershy crosses to them.)
Fluttershy: There are two traditional dances that everypony does at the Fête. After a few days of practicing with us, you’ll know them both.
Yona: And fit right in!
Rarity: Absolutely. We’ll start with the slow dance, the Pony Cotillion. That’s Fluttershy’s specialty. (Yona grins.)
Fluttershy: (giggling, blushing) Oh, I wouldn’t say “specialty.” It’s just fun.
(Here comes Angel, struggling not to drop a wide roll of material.)
Fluttershy: Here, Yona. I made you a chart.
(Which the little fuzzball sets on the floor and pushes to start it unrolling. The “chart” proves to be dozens of yards long, packed with a multicolored tangle of paths and steps that would send any Twister enthusiast screaming for the hills. Cut to Yona, whose face projects her instant unease as she leans down to survey the stretch immediately in front of her.)
Fluttershy: (from o.s.) All you have to do is follow these dance steps. (Zoom out to frame both as Yona straightens up.) You’ll learn them in no time.
(A nod across the gym is Angel’s cue to kick the phonograph, causing the needle to drop onto a waiting record and start a light orchestral tune. Pegasus and yak step onto the chart.)
Fluttershy: Now just start walking. (Both step onto the chart; Fluttershy indicates where Yona should place her front hooves.) Step on whatever color I name. Let’s begin.
(moving in time) Blue, red, step ahead.
Green, black, now step back.
Now you try.
Yona: (clumsily copying her) Blue, red, step a—
(out of time) Oop! No. Um, Yona start over.
Blue, red, green, black, yak step back?
Fluttershy: Good! Now…
(moving in time; Yona tries to keep up)
Black, green, red, and blue.
Red, black, hold one and two.
Red, blue, red once more.
Green, black, blue, red three and four.
(Yona cries out in distress and spins in place, ending up with all four legs snarled together.)
Yona: Yona feel like she have four front feet!
(Down she goes like a ton of bricks, ending up in a prime position to watch Angel execute his own version of the dance with a beady-eyed smirk. Rarity sighs heavily when the camera cuts to her and Fluttershy.)
Fluttershy: Ooh. Um…maybe we should try this again later.
Rainbow: (from o.s.) Don’t worry, Yona. (She flies past and pulls into a hover above the prone form.) That was the hard one. Mine’s way easier.
(At her winking nod, Angel scampers over to the phonograph and flips the record, switching the orchestral air to a lively guitar/piano boogie. On the next line, Rainbow touches down and Yona clambers up to all fours.)
Rainbow: A little dance called the Pony Prance! The key to this one is speed!
(After a quick back-and-forth pass to limber up, she lands back on the chart and does a couple of steps that get Yona grinning in a hurry.)
Rainbow: Come on, Yona, try it! Just get with the flow and let yourself go!
(The student proceeds to do exactly that, but her energy gets the better of her all too quickly. She knocks over a bin of balls, then a couple of pole-mounted buckball baskets and a rack of dumbbells, and her slide shreds the chart and launches the phonograph over the heads of Fluttershy and Rarity. The music stops abruptly.)
Rarity: Oh, my! (Rainbow pops into a hover to avoid a beefy charge.)
Rainbow: Whoa there! (Yona stops to catch her breath.)
Yona: YONA LIKE TO FLOW AND GO!!
(Zoom out quickly on the end of this to frame the havoc she has wrought in the gym. Broken and tumbled equipment pieces litter nearly every square inch of the floor, nets and signs have been pulled down from the walls, and the stage behind her is a shambles. Dead silence reigns for a long second before a formerly suspended hoop thuds down at her hooves. The three mares trade looks of mixed concern, disappointment, and chagrin as the view fades to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to a stretch of the Sweet Apple Acres orchards. Big Macintosh rolls a barrel into the trees, while Apple Bloom and Granny Smith look through a tub of apples. Pan across the fields toward the main barn, where Rarity and Yona are making their way toward a waiting Applejack and Pinkie Pie.)
Applejack: Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres, Yona. Rarity tells us you need some help gettin’ ready for the big dance.
Rarity: Some? Ha! (catching herself) Indeed. And we only have a few more days.
Pinkie: (jumping in place) Well, you’ve come to the right place! (hopping/twirling around Yona) Because if you asked me what my favorite part of the dance is, I’d say “everything about the dance”! But especially…
(A quick toss of her head allows her to produce a closed, cupcake-shaped basket that hangs from her forelock.)
Pinkie: …this! The Fetlock Lucky Pot Dinner!
Applejack: It’s part of the Ponyville dance tradition. Everypony brings a dish to share.
(The container is set down and a small apple basket is placed alongside, its lid shaped like that fruit.)
Applejack: And we swap ’em without knowin’ whose is whose. (Each mare picks up the other’s basket.) Although my lucky pot prob’ly gives me away. (Chuckle; cut to Yona.)
Pinkie: (from o.s.) You can cook anything you want. (She leans into view, no longer carrying Applejack’s batch, and circles around as she continues.) But can I suggest, oh, I don’t know, maybe… (leaning hard into Yona’s face) …cupcakes?!?
Rarity: Uh, I already told Yona a little bit about that tradition. She’s even brought her own lucky…bucket.
Yona: Yak buckets are best buckets! Yona think make traditional yak dish.
(From somewhere behind her bulk, she whips out a discolored wooden bucket—no lid, full to overflowing with an odoriferous mass of brownish slime and twigs. The sight and/or smell is enough to stun Pinkie speechless.)
Yona: Tree root stew!
(She places it proudly on the ground; close-up of it as Applejack and Pinkie regard it queasily and the buzzing of flies comes through loud and clear. Applejack no longer carries Pinkie’s offering.)
Yona: (from o.s.) Extra fiber! Mmm! Ponies like? (Applejack forces a grin; Pinkie offers a more innocent smile.)
Pinkie: Hmm, I’m not sure. So, just in case…let’s get baking!
(She hops in through the nearest open door, Rarity and Yona following; Applejack, on the other hand, grabs the bucket of stew by its handle in her teeth and hustles it away—perhaps to slop the hogs, fill a pothole, or throw into Ghastly Gorge. Cut to the other three in the kitchen, Pinkie visible as little more than a pink/magenta blur flashing around an utterly flabbergasted Rarity and Yona. Ingredients are procured and actions carried out as she names them.)
Pinkie: (rapid fire) Flour, milk ,sugar, butter, eggs. Then we mix, and we beat, and we pour into pans, we bake…
(The oven timer dings a split-second later, and she whips out a tray of fully cooked muffins for Yona’s puzzled perusal, using oven mitts to keep from burning her hooves. Both these and the brand-new baked goods are slung aside and replaced with an empty mixing bowl.)
Pinkie: …and now you try it!
(She watches expectantly as the yak tentatively picks up a sack of flour and bites down on one corner. The fabric rips open to dump the stuff into the bowl, triggering a loud sneeze from Yona that fills the screen with opaque white clouds. The view slowly clears to show both her face and every inch of Pinkie liberally coated with flour, along with the walls, ceiling, and floor. Rarity, though, has come out without a speck on her.)
Pinkie: Whoa! That’s one way to mix it. (Applejack enters, carrying a basket of apples.)
Applejack: Let’s try somethin’ a little simpler.
(She puts the fruit on the floor and nips one up to place it on the table.)
Applejack: I’m sure we can do somethin’ with these.
(A bit of thought brings an inspired smile to Yona’s face, in time with a raised hoof. Close-up of the apple as it takes a direct hit, splattering to mush as her savage yell rings out, then of Applejack and the faceful of pulp she is now wearing.)
Applejack: (wiping herself clean) Okay! Applesauce it is.
(Her grimace at having to let her prize crop be reduced to such an end is answered by the weary hoof that Rarity puts to her own face at the other end of the table. For their part, Pinkie and Yona grin obliviously. A hail of apples tumbles past the camera, the view wiping behind them to the School gym. Fluttershy has put her dance chart back together and unrolled it for another lesson with Yona, while Rarity has donned her glasses and fired up her horn to do a little tailoring work on the lacy green dress she suggested during her Act One song. Yona is now clean of flour, and the place has been put back in order from her Act One dancing disaster.)
Yona: (following dance steps) Blue, red, green—
(She rears up to her hind legs with a frightened yell, coming within an ace of keeling over backwards until Fluttershy hovers up to brace her with a hoof on the back. Down to all fours she goes.)
Yona: Blue…
(Pan quickly to a close-up of a basket of apples being dumped onto a chute by Applejack, then cut to a longer shot. She has just fed part of her load into the family’s treadmill-operated cider press on the Sweet Apple Acres grounds; Macintosh is providing the hoof-power, and Granny changes out a freshly filled barrel for an empty. As Applejack carries the basket away, the camera pans to follow her and stops on Yona—standing in a large tub mounted on stilts and stomping merrily away at the contents. Pulp streams from a spigot low on one side and into a waiting barrel, and Applejack tips in the remainder of her basket to keep this end of the process going.)
(Pan quickly to an extreme close-up of one of Yona’s hooves receiving a coat of green polish from a magically held brush. A marshmallow has been wedged into its cleft. Once the surface is lustrous enough to reflect Rarity’s face, now bare of her glasses, the camera cuts to a longer shot. The two are in the ground-floor showroom of the Carousel Boutique, and Rarity manipulates the marshmallow and brush at the same time as a file floats away from one curved horn. She leans in to blow on the polish and thus dry it; Yona tries to lick it as if it were a toothsome sweet, but Rarity pushes her back with a shake of the head. From here, wipe to the upper-story workspace and living quarters; a plain green dress is maneuvered down and over Yona’s head, but after a long bit of tugging and struggling, the cloth splits down the front from collar nearly to hemline. The creator of the freshly shredded frock claps a dismayed hoof to her mouth.)
(Pan quickly to Pinkie, cleaned up from the Sweet Apple Acres flour mishap and mixing up a batch of ingredients in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner. A slower pan shifts the view to Yona at the other end of the counter, her dress and hoof polish gone; she licks at a spoonful of batter from her own bowl to the sound of a ringing oven timer and a rustle of pans. As she glances back toward Pinkie’s end, the camera zooms out to show that the pink pony has just slid a full tray of freshly baked muffins onto a trolley to cool. It joins a dozen or more such loads on the racks, and she grins proudly at her gobsmacked student.)
(Pan quickly to the upper-story workspace/living quarters of the Carousel Boutique. Rarity has set up a table for formal tea, and Yona sits facing a pony-shaped mannequin, cup in hoof and Brussels sprouts in mouth. She voices a badly garbled sentence as part of this latest exercise in etiquette. Another quick pan shifts the view to the hot-tub room in the Ponyville Spa; Yona sits in the big tub, having shed her blanket and disposed of the food, and Rainbow and Rarity—both in full-body biohazard suits—are using levitated/hoof-held brushes to give her a thorough scrubbing. Pan quickly to the School gym; Rainbow hovers here, kitted out with a hockey helmet, stick, and goalie’s padded mitt. Yona, now dry and blanketed, bounds into view and is stopped from knocking out any equipment by Rainbow’s timely maneuvering to redirect her momentum.)
(Pan quickly to a close-up of her in the Carousel Boutique. She readily stuffs her mouth full of Brussels sprouts before the camera zooms out to frame her in Rarity’s upstairs space. The dressmaker has stripped out of her suit, put on her glasses, and started up her sewing machine to repair the dress Yona tore up.)
Yona: (only slightly garbled, to a mannequin) How kind of you to ask me to tea.
(Pan quickly to the School gym; standing on the dance chart with her mouth now clear, she mirrors the steps Fluttershy is doing, then turns to get funky with a hovering Rainbow who has shed her hockey gear. Both instructors smile in approval. Dissolve to Twilight’s five friends crashed out and snoring heartily in Rarity’s space, accompanied by an equally zonked Angel; Rarity has shed her glasses. On the start of the next line, zoom out to show Yona practicing before a mirror—alternating dance and elocution.)
Yona: Blue, red, step ahead.
* How kind of you…
Green, black, Yona step back.
* …to ask Yona to tea.
(Cut to the mares; she continues o.s. as Rarity slowly wakes up and nudges the others to full consciousness. They stare dumbstruck.)
Black, green, red, and blue.
Red, black, hold one and two.
(Long shot of the entire room, framing her.)
Red, blue, red once more.
Green, black, blue, red three and four.
Rainbow: Look! She’s dancing!
Applejack: How ’bout that! And she’s good! (Rarity stands up to face Yona.)
Rarity: Yona, if someone at the party tells you they are thirsty, you say…?
* Yona: May Yona…um, may I offer you a cup of punch?
Rarity: By Celestia, I think she’s got it!
Pinkie: She’s really got it!
Applejack: Yona, you did it!
Rainbow: You dance great! (Angel now rides on Fluttershy’s back.)
Fluttershy: And are so well-spoken!
Pinkie: You’ll be the hit of the ball!
Same melody/tempo/key as Act One song; piano, strings, light percussion that slowly builds
(Rarity ruffles Yona’s mane.)
Rarity: You’ve mastered so many pony ways
And grown a lot in the past few days
(Take one cloven hoof; Yona rises to her hind legs.)
You’ve shown a turn that has earned our praise
Yona: And now I fit right in
(Rarity joins in for the last word of this line; now the other four gather in close.)
Brass/percussion flourish
Mares: You fit right in
Song ends with a stinger
(Yona grins from ear to ear at their appraisal of her efforts. Dissolve to the exterior of the School at night and zoom in slowly; students are moving toward the open front doors.)
Spike: (voice over, amplified) Hel-loooo, everycreature!
(Cut to a close-up of him, standing up into view within a DJ booth. He has decked himself out in a hooded sweatshirt of shiny gray fabric and an oversized helmet styled as a sparkly, darker-tinted version of his own head, with his face visible through the open mouth. He is holding a microphone.)
Spike: (amplified) I’m your DJ, Scales-and-Tail, spinning your favorite tunes all night long! So welcome to the Fetlock Fê—I mean—
(Long shot. The booth is set up at the end of the School’s entrance hall, which is crowded with revelers and set up with decorations at every level from floor to ceiling. Twilight stands among them.)
Spike: (amplified) —the Amity Ball!
(Cheers erupt as the winged unicorn heads off through the throng. Cut to Applejack, polishing the gold Pony Pal trophy seen in the prologue; it stands on a table loaded with closed containers brought in for the Lucky Pot Dinner. As two mares eye the prize admiringly and a third adds to the accumulation of unknown foods, the camera pans to frame Yona’s five friends hanging out off to one side. Ocellus and a hovering Silverstream have helped themselves to refreshments, a cup of punch and a plate of snacks respectively; Sandbar tugs nervously at the purple bow tie he has put on for the occasion and licks a hoof to slick down his mane; Gallus and Smolder just stand around looking bored.)
Gallus: I’m just glad I’m here with you guys. At least I’m not the only non-pony in the crowd.
Sandbar: You’re not still worried about that, are you? Like Headmare Twilight said, this is a dance for everycreature. There’s no pony pressure.
(Quizzical glances among Gallus/Ocellus/Smolder lead to a round of stifled giggles.)
Ocellus: You should’ve told Yona that.
Sandbar: Uh, what do you mean?
Silverstream: Didn’t you hear? Our teachers have been helping her get ready for the dance! (slyly) She’s been taking lessons.
(A potato chip gets chomped in time with a flick of the brows above the blue-violet eyes.)
Smolder: She’s gone full pony for the dance.
Gallus: (pulling Sandbar’s tie) All for you.
(When he lets go, the accessory snaps back like a rubber band and pitches the colt down to his haunches.)
Sandbar: For me? (smiling) Why?
(He pats his mane down as Yona’s forelegs step into view behind him—now wearing the green dress trimmed in white lace with added pale green accents, and the edge of a two-tone purple mane-style hanging down into view. Her voice stops him cold.)
* Yona: How kind of you to ask me to this soiree, Sandbar.
(His jaw drops once he has swiveled his neck to get an eyeful. Cut a series of softly focused extreme close-up of the following. A pale green ribbon streaming from the end of one horn…a gem-studded, slightly irregular Lucky Pot basket hanging from one hoof…two lavender-shadowed green eyes gazing alluringly through layered, waving purple tresses, a light blue earring in one ear…and then all of her, a dark red-brown belt with a blue flower encircling her midsection and a layer of light blue under the greens at the hem of her dress. She tosses her head to let her new hair stream backward and show off matched pairs of earrings and horn ribbons; her braids are nowhere to be seen.)
(Normal focus resumes with a cut to the rest of the gang, Sandbar backing up toward the other four. The next three lines overlap somewhat.)
Gallus: Huh?
Smolder: Uh, what?
Ocellus: Uh…whoa.
Silverstream: (making a goofy face, dumping snacks off her plate) You look so…weird!
Sandbar: Yona?
* Yona: Quite. Oh, I do hope I make a good pony pal for you. (Bat the eyelashes.)
Sandbar: Uh…of course you do! But, Yona, you didn’t need to do any of…this.
Smolder: And why are you talking so funny?
* Yona: I am not “talking funny,” I’m fitting in.
Gallus: (aside) Could’ve fooled me.
(Rarity enters from the front doors, wearing a sleeveless magenta gown with pale pink collar trim; a light yellow puff accentuates the throat, and her mane is bound with a similarly colored clip.)
Rarity: Yona! (Cross to her.) You look absolutely scrumptious, darling.
(The two exchange kisses on both cheeks.)
Rarity: (floating Yona’s basket away) Uh, why don’t I get that for you?
(It comes to rest on the table with the others; Rarity crosses to it, followed by a mildly confounded Sandbar and his companion.)
Sandbar: You made a lucky pot?
* Yona: Precisely like ponies prepare.
(A whine of feedback curtails any further culinary ponderings. On the start of the next line, cut to a long shot of the hall that frames Twilight hovering above the crowd, Spike’s microphone in her telekinetic hold.)
Twilight: (amplified) Welcome, everycreature, to our school’s first annual Amity Ball! For those of you who’ve never attended a Fetlock Fête, we can’t wait to show you some of our fun traditions on this special night.
(Gallus, Ocellus, Silverstream, and Smolder are the only attendees who fail to cheer and applaud at this pronouncement. Silverstream gulps down the remaining food on her plate; now Twilight flies over to Spike.)
Twilight: (amplified) So, Spike—
Spike: Uh, Scales-and-Tail?
Twilight: (amplified) Uh, right. Scales-and-Tail. Let’s get this party started!
(She wings away, the mic settling into the dragon’s clawed grip.)
Spike: (amplified) Oh, yeah, party ponies! It’s time to raise the roof and stomp your hoof— (picking up a record) —for the traditional first dance of the night—the Pony Cotillion!
(Platter meets turntable, needle drops into the groove, and the light orchestral piece that Fluttershy used to teach Yona in Act One begins to play. The two ponies in each pair face each other, bow, and go into a stately dance. Sandbar and Yona watch from the sidelines, the latter’s face lighting up after a few steps.)
Yona: Ah! Yona know this one!
Sandbar: You do?
* Yona: Indeed.
(doing steps) Green, black, then step back.
(bowing, extending a hoof) Shall we?
(Sandbar hooks it through one of his and leads her toward the dance, passing a table at which Rarity is levitating a dipper and cup to get some punch. She gasps at the sight of them, the drink forgotten, as the rest of Twilight’s friends gather to watch. Pinkie giggles, Applejack chuckles, and soon the two students have found a clear patch of floor to carry off the entire sequence flawlessly.)
Sandbar: (laughing) Wow! How did you learn this?
* Yona: (glancing toward Rarity and company) I had good teachers. (Wink.)
(All goes well until one rear hoof treads on her lacy hem, causing her to stumble backwards.)
Yona: Whoa!
(Cut to the five mares. She wipes out the punchbowl, Fluttershy, and Rarity, bringing a collective shocked gasp from all present, and comes up wearing the container right side up on her head. The music stops.)
Sandbar: (from o.s.) Yona! (Cut to him, crossing to her.) Are you all right? (He extends a hoof.)
Yona: (blushing sheepishly) Yona never practiced dance with dress on. (catching herself) Uh, I mean…
(A demure laugh, and she shifts linguistic gears and stands up, holding an empty cup out to him as he withdraws his limb confusedly.)
* Yona: …may I offer you a cup of punch?
(She fills it by tipping her head forward to pour from the bowl still on her head, not spilling a single drop. A squeal of feedback yanks their attention away from the awkward moment.)
Spike: (from o.s., amplified) Time to shake things up a little! (Cut to him.) That’s right, everycreature! It’s the Pony Prance!
(The push of a slider control brings up the boogie track that served as accompaniment for Rainbow’s lessons on this one, but transposed up a half-step.)
Sandbar: (as Yona slides cup/punchbowl back onto table) Uh, maybe we should sit this one out.
* Yona: (panicked) No! (She grabs his foreleg and composes herself.) I do so love the Pony Prance.
(He can do nothing but utter a surprised cry as she drags him bodily into the thick of it. The energetic groove spreads from one dancer to another, and soon Sandbar and Yona are letting it guide their steps and hops. Everything goes swimmingly until her purple hair comes loose—actually a wig—and slides down over her eyes to let her braids fall loose from underneath. Her yelling flails propel her into Sandbar so that he plows into two others. All three ponies go to the floor as Twilight swoops frantically toward them, but the calamity only builds when Yona’s thundering passage topples Applejack and Fluttershy; only a lightning-fast grab by Rainbow saves the punchbowl. The entire place begins to shake, causing the needle to slide off Spike’s record with a loud scratch, and he falls forward over his turntables and rolls across the floor, losing his microphone. Rarity accentuates the rising panic with an earsplitting scream, and partygoers flee every which way to stay clear of the blindly stampeding yak. Gallus, Ocellus, Silverstream, and Smolder look up in fright from an ongoing card game, Silverstream having had time to reload and clear her plate if her bulging cheeks are any indication; she tosses it aside and swallows, and all four get it in gear, abandoning the cards.)
Yona: Whoooaaa…
Sandbar: It’s okay, Yona!
Smolder: Just stop bouncing!
Gallus: We got you!
(What they actually get is one hit after another upside the head from the thick, lashing braids before she thunders away in a random direction.)
Yona: Wig, come off! (It finally does.) Ah?
(Relief turns to an affrighted gasp as she finds herself bearing down on the accumulation of lucky pots. She slams on the brakes, but is too late to avoid a head-on collision that sends them and their contents splattering everywhere. Twilight, now hovering and holding Spike, drops him and conjures up a shield to protect him, herself, and her friends from the barrage. The last thing to hit the floor is the trophy, which topples to its side at Sandbar’s besmirched hooves. A few drops of nameless goop splash onto it as the camera tilts up to his dumbstruck visage. Reality sets in after a moment, prompting a horrified gasp as he takes in the extent of the devastation. The only ones to survive unscathed are Twilight and those behind her shield, which she dispels to let the mess caked on it fall away.)
Rarity: What a calamitous yak-cident! (Yona huddles miserably at the center of it all.)
Sandbar: Yona!
Ocellus: What happened?
Silverstream: Are you all right?
(Cut to Yona on the end of this; she whirls to face them, eyes full of tears and makeup running.)
Yona: No! Yona not all right! (sobbing, galloping toward front doors) Yona want to be alone!
(She breaks down the rest of the way as she exits and Sandbar reaches helplessly after her. The partygoers can only stare in mixed confusion and sadness at the wreckage at all levels from floor to ceiling as the camera zooms out slowly. An overhead banner adds a final insult by choosing this moment to come loose and slither to the floor. Fade to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to a close-up of a bird perched on a bough of crystalline leaves and tilting its head inquisitively. On the start of the next line, zoom out slightly to frame a brokenhearted Yona slumped at a balcony railing of the crystal treehouse that sprang from the shattered Tree of Harmony in “Uprooted.” She has shed her ruined dress and trappings and cleaned away her makeup/food residue, her blanket is on her back, and her braids are looped behind her ears.)
Yona: (singing tunelessly) Yona sad, Yona sing sad song, sad Yona
(The bird chirps a bit and flies away.)
Yona: Yona no blame bird. Yona no want to be around Yona either.
(She rests her head disconsolately on her forelegs; long shot of the treehouse.)
Yona: Yona sad, Yona sing sad song
(Sandbar steps into view in the fore on the end of this; cut to the balcony, framing him at a distance. He too has had a chance to clean himself off.)
Sandbar: Yona?
(She spots him, yelps, and dives out of sight; climbing to her level, he finds one young female yak sniffling and huddled miserably on the glimmering floor. He sits on his haunches alongside her as a few tears begin to spill down the hairy brown face.)
Yona: How Sandbar find Yona?
Sandbar: I know you pretty well by now. I figured you’d come here. Besides, it’s where I’d go if something like that happened to me.
Yona: (angrily, standing/stomping; the whole place shakes and he is jolted upright) Sandbar mean something awful and embarrassing! So awful, Yona cannot come down from treehouse ever!
(In a Pinkie Pie-level display of dexterity, she produces a rope from nowhere and proceeds to lash herself to a support column.)
Yona: Will Sandbar bring Yona food and water? (Big shiny pleading eyes.)
Sandbar: You know, it really wasn’t that bad. I don’t think anycreature hardly even noticed.
(His hopeful grin is met by a very funny look—no sale.)
Sandbar: Well, maybe one or two didn’t—if they happened to be in Canterlot for the day. (brightly) But anyway, it’s all over now, so…will you come back to the dance with me?
(Yona slides glumly down the column, the bindings instantly snapping from the stress imposed by her sheer bulk, and turns to stare out over the balcony railing.)
Yona: Yona disappoint Sandbar. Yona not make very good pony. (He joins her.)
Sandbar: Why would you think you disappointed me? And who said anything about having to be a good pony?
Yona: Yona just want to do all the right pony things and fit in at dance! Then maybe Sandbar and Yona win Best Pony Pals Contest. (bitterly, turning away) Instead, Yona win Worst Pony Ever.
(The nearest column becomes the target of a frustrated head thump that sets off a mild tremor.)
Sandbar: That’s not true.
Yona: (accusingly, poking him in the chest) Really? Sandbar, name two ponies worse than Yona.
Sandbar: (smiling confidently) Cozy Glow and Sombra.
(The promptness of his answer throws her for a loop, but does make her chuckle.)
Yona: Okay, Sandbar right. They worse.
Sandbar: Yona, it doesn’t really matter if you’re a great pony or a horrible pony. (taking her hoof) You’re the best Yona I know. (blushing, ruffling his mane) That’s why I asked you to the dance.
Yona: (blushing) Really?
Sandbar: I never wanted you to be anything other than what you are—my friend, Yona, the yak.
(He finds himself on the receiving end of a bone-crushing, lung-squeezing hug, and blushes a bit after it ends.)
Sandbar: So, what do you say? Let’s go back to the dance?
(Her cheeks tint to match his as her mouth stretches in a surprised little smile. Dissolve to a slow pan through the School’s entrance hall, where cleanup efforts are well under way by ponies who are clean in face/body but severely deficient in party spirit. Stop on the other four out-of-town students around a table—Silverstream hovering and eating popcorn from a bag, Gallus and Ocellus sitting slumped over, Smolder with chair tilted back and feet propped up. Rarity trudges past, sighing heavily and towing a bucket of cleaning supplies in her magic, and joins Twilight and company at their varied tasks. The sound of an opening door elicits a round of gasps, Pinkie dropping the broom handle in her teeth; cut to a long shot of the front doors, where Sandbar and Yona have just returned.)
Sandbar: (to her, whispering, patting her shoulder) Don’t worry. I’m with you.
(Almost as soon as they step over the threshold, the rest of the gang is hovering to greet them, Silverstream having disposed of her snack.)
Gallus: We all are. (Group hug.)
Pinkie: (from o.s.) Yona! (Cut to her and the other mares approaching.) Are you all right?
Fluttershy: We were so worried when you disappeared like that.
Yona: Yona fine. But Yona sorry. Not mean to make such a mess and ruin the pony dance.
Applejack: (doffing hat) It’s not your fault, sugar cube.
Rainbow: It’s the opposite. If anything, we should be apologizing.
Pinkie: I thought we were just teaching you how to have fun at the dance. (Close-up: Rarity crosses to Yona.)
Rarity: We never meant to try to turn you into something you’re not.
Yona: Is okay. (gesturing to Sandbar) Friend helped Yona feed better.
Twilight: (from o.s.) And that’s why we’re giving you this.
(Cut to her in midair, the glow of her horn bringing in the trophy—fully cleaned and polished, and with a slight alteration. Namely: one of the two dancing-pony figurines is now covered in brown fur and sports a pair of horns.)
Sandbar, Yona: Huh?
Sandbar: No way! The Pony Pal Prize! (Applejack has her hat back on.)
Twilight: From now on, it’s the Annual Amity Ball Award for Friendship.
Applejack: No pony-ness required.
Rainbow: (grabbing/flying it to the pair) We all decided that you and Yona totally earned this.
(She hooks it onto one of Yona’s horns, from which Rarity floats it down with her power.)
Rarity: Your actions tonight exemplified the true meaning of friendship.
(Colt and yak each grip one handle and smile at one another over the figurines.)
Twilight: Congratulations, you two!
(All those present echo the sentiment for some seconds before Spike scrambles to the front of the crowd, his helmet having tilted forward to cover his face.)
Spike: Yona! (He rights it.) I’m glad you’re back! Everypony wants to learn that crazy dance you did! (Nods all around.)
Yona: Yak dance? Is easy! Yona teach— (glancing at her friends) —if everycreature want to learn?
Rarity: It would be an honor.
(In less time than it takes to say “pon de replay,” Spike has clambered back up to his post in the DJ booth and fished up his microphone.)
Spike: (amplified) You asked for it, and DJ Scales-and-Tail is gonna deliver! (slamming a record onto the turntable) Everycreature join Yona for the Yakyakistan Stomp!
(A slow, ponderous beat kicks up, incorporating a Russian-influenced stringed instrument melody over heavy percussion. A couple of hoof taps are all that Yona needs to start grooving in her particular fashion, throwing her weight this way and that as the crowd gives her plenty of space. She and Sandbar have put their trophy aside. He is first to join in, and soon every living being in the joint is following suit regardless of age or species and having a laughing, grinning, grunting, room-shaking good time. Fade to black.)
FRENEMIES
Written by Michael Vogel
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to the dismal swamp in which Grogar’s crude stone likeness stands to mark the location of his subterranean stronghold, as seen in “The Beginning of the End.” It is daytime, but the time frame cannot be narrowed down because of the sky’s diseased grayness. A flare of yellow light kindles from a gap in the rocks near the waterline, growing to fill the screen and then subsiding to give a close-up of the crystal ball on the old goat’s central table inside. The glowing surface goes white and displays an item styled like an old cowbell, marred by cracks and decorated with diagonal stripes at the corners and a large, octagonal eye. Tilt up from the ball to frame Grogar glaring intently down at it; his concentration is broken by the sound of Cozy Glow clearing her throat from o.s.)
Cozy: (flying down to him from one side) I don’t want to tattle on my good friend Tirek, buuuuuut…you might like to know he left food out. Again.
(The ball’s vision has subsided by the time she makes it all the way to his level; she lands facing him.)
Grogar: I’ll deal with it when I’m done! (She goes placidly on her way.)
Lord Tirek: (coming down after her) Don’t trust anything that nosy little pegasus says!
Grogar: I don’t trust anything any of you say!
Tirek: Hmph!
(He clomps off. Close-up of the ball, now reflecting the mastermind’s irritated visage; on the next line, Chrysalis thrusts a perforated hoof into view to block it and the camera tilts up to her, hovering across the table.)
Chrysalis: Are you planning on attacking anypony anytime soon? If not, I don’t know why I’m wasting my time here. I am a queen, you know.
(She buzzes away, leaving him to vent his frustration in a snort of steam. Cut to a side meeting room, equipped with three roughly chair-shaped rock formations around a central slab on which a lantern has been placed. Torches are mounted on the walls, and books and other items are stuffed onto shelves inset between them and three closed doors. Cozy and Tirek have taken two of the seats, and Chrysalis flies in to claim the third as Tirek enters.)
Grogar: I am leaving, since it’s impossible to accomplish the work I need to do here. I suggest the three of you come to some kind of accord!
(Cut to the underlings, who instantly launch into a lively three-way argument. It abruptly turns into a deluge of unintelligible mumbling when a triple blast of magic from Grogar’s direction glues a patch over each mouth.)
Grogar: (from o.s, stomping table) I don’t care how— (Cut to frame all four.) —but you must learn to work together! Only then can we accomplish what you so greatly desire— (Zoom in slowly; his eyes glow.) —the defeat of Twilight Sparkle and her friends!
(Fade to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to an empty stretch of the meeting room’s upper reaches, against which Cozy flies into view with one marker in her teeth and a second in her hooves. She dots the latter one against something just off the bottom edge of the screen, then lets both drop with a pleased smile. Close-up of a loop of rope being hooked onto a stalactite to secure the corner of a piece of cloth, then pan quickly to a second one being rigged up, then cut to her backing down a few feet. Her mouth has been unsealed; the same will be true of Chrysalis and Tirek when each is seen next.)
Cozy: Nothing says “teamwork” like an inspirational banner.
(The ropes are holding up a light blue-violet banner that presents the grinning visages of all four villains amid stars and firework explosions. She hovers up to it.)
Cozy: When Grogar sees this, he’ll realize there’s no way he could survive without me.
(Grunts of exertion from the o.s. Tirek and a rattle of metal snap her out of this smug pondering. Cut to a hanging portrait of the centaur at the peak of his physical/magical power during “Twilight’s Kingdom”—standing tall and flexing his muscles over the treeline. The two beefy red arms cycle a barbell up and down; cut to an overhead close-up of his grim-set, sweating face—lying face-up on a flat slab pressed into service as a weight bench. Zoom out to frame Cozy looking on during the start of the next line. He is in a different area of Grogar’s lair, as evidenced by the crank-operated phonograph on a side table at the far wall behind him.)
Cozy: You’re gonna have to exercise a lot to get as big as you were when you absorbed the life force of all those ponies. (She flits idly up to sit on the barbell’s central bar…) Anyhoo… (…and sits on it.) …Grogar wants us all to work together. So I’ve scheduled a team meeting. (She dangles her head to look at him upside down.) Doesn’t that sound fun?
(He stops lifting, glaring up as she grins broadly.)
Cozy: (sliding off to sit on his chest) And since Grogar left me in charge—
Tirek: No, he didn’t! (Resume lifting.)
Cozy: (giggling, patting his forehead) Someone’s a real grumpy-taur today. (Sit on his forelegs.) If we aren’t meeting, I guess I could just stay and offer positive and inspiring—
Tirek: (shaking her off, setting barbell in its supports) Fine! I’ll join your meeting! Just leave!
Cozy: See you soon!
(She flies away, not minding the dirty look he sends after her. Wipe to the young inciter hopping cheerfully down a flight of steps and into a torchlit passage; she stops short at the bottom upon hearing the next voice.)
Chrysalis: (from o.s.) It’s been weeks and Grogar has done nothing! (She sees the deposed queen’s shadow from around a bend.) It’s not healthy to hold on to all of this rage!
(On the start of the next line, Cozy rounds the corner and the camera zooms out to frame Chrysalis addressing a gnarled chunk of wood she holds. Its pale, faded violet tint gives it away as the remains of the evil Twilight Sparkle duplicate she created in “The Mean 6.”)
Chrysalis: I could lash out at any moment!
Cozy: (moving closer) And how are you doing this fine— (Chrysalis leans hard into her face.)
Chrysalis: How do you think I’m doing?! I’m ready to exact my revenge!
(Cozy topples backward under the sheer force of her words; now she turns calmly to address the wood, balanced on an outcropping, and sits on her haunches.)
Chrysalis: See what I mean?
Cozy: (standing up, stomping) Being cooped up with nothing to do is the worst! (smiling slyly) You know what you need? (Lean on the wood.) A team meeting!
(The twisted horn fires up and drags it away in a lurid green aura, dumping Cozy onto her belly.)
Chrysalis: I don’t do meetings. (Stand up and pace away, taking the wood along.)
Cozy: (standing up) Grogar left me in charge—
Chrysalis: No, he didn’t! And even if he did, Chrysalis obeys no one.
Cozy: (sweetly) There’ll be cupcakes.
(This gives the love-eater pause. Wipe to the meeting room and zoom in slowly. She is standing on a stack of crates to address Chrysalis and Tirek, who have taken seats around the central table that now holds a tray of cupcakes. Chrysalis has snagged one for herself.)
Cozy: Grogar wants us to work together to defeat our enemies— (Close-up.) —which means we need to trust each other.
(The end of this line is underscored by the sound of magic use; cut to a close-up of a mildly annoyed Chrysalis, the piece of wood resting behind her on the chair. A stream of red-orange energy wreathes her horn and traces o.s. across the table. She swallows a mouthful before speaking.)
Chrysalis: If we are to trust one another, perhaps inform Lord Tirek to stop trying to absorb my essence!
(On these last few words, she drops her cupcake and the camera zooms out to frame them both. The centaur has indeed warmed up a spell between his horns and is trying to inhale her power, much as he did in his first go-round five seasons earlier. After several seconds, he gives up the effort, picks up a cupcake from the tray, and spits the power onto it.)
Tirek: (protesting tone) I wasn’t doing anything of the sort! (Set it on the table.) How dare you!
Chrysalis: (indignantly) How dare I? (She leans into his face.) Do you know to whom you are speaking?
(A bit of her own mojo lifts the souped-up snack to her mouth; she chomps it down in one bite, leaving a smear of magically boosted frosting across her lips, and leans back.)
Tirek: How could I not? (His perspective; she licks her mouth clean and swallows as he points at the wood.) You tell your log every five minutes!
(She cradles it protectively; cut to a put-out Cozy.)
Cozy: This is why Grogar left me in charge.
Chrysalis, Tirek: NO, HE DIDN’T!!
Tango melody with strings, woodwinds, light percussion, medium 4 (A minor)
(The filly snarls through gritted teeth, but an upward glance sets her thinking.)
Cozy: Huh?
(Her eyes lock onto her own banner, prompting a calculating smile, and the lights in the room dim as she hops off the crates and onto the table. A pale pink spotlight beam picks her out; she picks up the tray and makes a stack of three cupcakes.)
Cozy: I think I know a way that we can grow
(Knock them over, then pitch the tray aside.)
Time to try something new, something better
(Approach Tirek and Chrysalis in turn, taking the wood from the latter who immediately snatches it back.)
No more solo, trust is the way to go
(She places a red hand and a pocked dark gray hoof on the table, close to one another.)
And all we need to do is work together
Tirek: (contemptuously) Ah, please!
(Cozy’s light goes out; he gets an orange one and backs away.)
No thanks, no way, I feel the need to say
I’m smarter, stronger, and I don’t need you two
Chrysalis: Ha!
(Green light on her; she leaves the table to face him down.)
Stronger? Okay, I guess we’ll downplay
(She levitates him off the ground and spins him to face away from her.)
How bad you got your rear end handed to you
Brass in
(Her field lets him drop; he turns to glower into her smugly grinning face as both their lights go out and Cozy’s turns on to pick her out atop the stacked crates.)
Cozy: It’s time to try a better way to be bad
(Lights on the other two, in time with a snarl from Tirek.)
Chrysalis, Tirek: Do we really need a better way to be bad?
Cozy: United as one
Chrysalis: (spoken in rhythm) Teamwork? Please, what a fad
(Cozy pulls down her banner and flies across the room with it, her light following. The other two are out.)
Cozy: Combine our strength, we’ll go to any length
Once we have a better way to be bad
(Following a pass near the camera, she drops the cloth and whirls a blindfolded Chrysalis in place, then pushes her backwards off a ledge toward a waiting Tirek. Cozy’s light is out.)
Cozy: Let’s go, begin, this time we’re gonna win
(Tirek sidesteps with a grin, allowing Chrysalis to hit the ground on her back, and feigns innocence. She pulls the fabric away from her eyes.)
Chrysalis: The ice you’re on is thin, so watch what you say
(She shoves Tirek, now blindfolded, down a flight of stairs; Cozy waits at the bottom and peels the dazed red face off the stone floor. The cloth has been dislodged in the landing.)
Cozy: I know you’re in, I think I see a grin
(He comes to, grabs her, and shakes vigorously.)
Tirek: For all this pain and torture, I swear you’ll pay
(Wipe to the three easing across a rope strung over a rock-choked lake. Both adults lose their balance and plunge into the water, while the youngster pops up into a hover.)
Cozy: This time we’ve got a better way to be bad
Chrysalis, Tirek: Sounds like a longshot, this better way to be bad
(They make quotation marks with hooves and fingers on these last five words; Cozy descends to balance on their heads and produces a sloppily stitched burlap doll in Twilight’s likeness. It comes complete with a crown and taped-on cutie mark.)
Cozy: United as one, we’ll make those ponies so sad
Tirek: If we say okay, would you just go away?
(Cozy flies up to perch on a ledge.)
Cozy: Once we have a better way to be bad
(The toy is kicked off the brink and falls into a pile with equally inept versions of Twilight’s friends and Starlight Glimmer. The entire image cracks and shatters to leave Cozy standing in her pink spotlight, holding the last of these dolls.)
Modulate through several minor keys, landing back on A by the fourth line
Cozy: We want to break their friendship, we want to make them weak
(Fly to Chrysalis, now standing in her own light, whose magic rips the plaything in half; then to Tirek with a full-length mirror that reflects his magically bulked-up build.)
You want revenge on Starlight, you want that huge physique
(A flex of the image’s muscles cracks the glass and frame. Now the three gather to pile up two hooves and a hand between them, each one’s light flicking on in turn.)
So let’s increase our chances by working as a team
(All three stomp the pile of dolls.)
(spoken in rhythm) To crush our enemies to dust and laugh as they all scream
(All three laugh; Tirek picks up the Rainbow Dash doll and drives a fist through its midsection. His and Chrysalis’s lights are out, and Cozy’s has expanded to encompass them both.)
Tirek: I think I see a better way to be bad
(Chrysalis floats up the stuffed Twilight just long enough to transfer its tiara from its head to hers.)
Chrysalis: Just put me in charge, make me queen, you’ll be glad
(Cozy swoops down, plucks it away, and twirls it up to rest among the blue ringlets.)
Cozy: No, listen to me, I’m the best of us three
(All three join hooves/hands and spin in a circle. Light out.)
All three: Then you’ll see a better way to be bad
Tempo increases
(Cozy extricates herself; the other two close the circle and keep twirling. Her light now falls on her alone.)
Cozy: Wait, this is my thing, a better way to be bad
(It goes out; Chrysalis’s comes on as she telekinetically shoves the others to the floor and lets the tiara go flying.)
Chrysalis: You shall do as I command, I will rule this triad
Cozy: (standing, spoken in rhythm) Hey, this is my song!
(Chrysalis and Tirek lean down to her, both their lights on.)
Chrysalis, Tirek: Sorry, not any longer
(Chrysalis’s power throws Tirek down on Cozy; she pins both of them. Lights out.)
All three: A better way to be bad
Cozy: Now you’re making me mad
Tirek: Won’t the ponies be sad?
Chrysalis: That would make me so glad
(Three dolls are held near the crystal ball—Rarity in Chrysalis’s magical grip, Pinkie Pie in Tirek’s hands, Twilight in Cozy’s hooves, and each in its holder’s spotlight.)
All three: Now we’ve got a better way to be bad
(A three-way twirl with the toys, and the beams follow each as he/she strikes a final dramatic pose. Cozy, the last to move, winds up with a rose clenched in her teeth and pays no mind as the head of her “dancing partner” falls off. Chrysalis and Tirek, though, have ditched theirs.)
Song ends
(Normal illumination resumes, the spots extinguishing themselves, as she drops the pieces and the rose and turns to the others.)
Cozy: (petulantly) Heeey! You stepped on my cue!
(Accusations quickly begin flying between the members of the trio over who goofed in which fashion. Pan away from them and stop on the returning Grogar, whose mood has not improved a bit since he set out at the end of the prologue.)
Grogar: (stomping) ENOUGH!! (All fall silent and turn to him.) I had hoped by now you would have resolved your differences, but apparently not!
Chrysalis: (venomously) Perhaps if we knew what the plan was, we would be better able to prepare!
Tirek: Assuming you even have a plan.
Grogar: Of course I have a plan! (Slow pan across the four.) I have located an object of power, and it occurs to me this is the perfect test.
(Cut to the three subordinates; Tirek elbows Chrysalis, knocking her into Cozy, who shoves her back against Tirek.)
Grogar: (from o.s.) The three of you will work together to retrieve it. (Back to him.) Against this item— (grinning savagely, eyes glowing briefly) —those ponies won’t stand a chance!
Chrysalis: (stepping forward) I have come close to ruling Equestria several times. Perhaps I should be the one to lead us. (Cozy pushes her aside.)
Cozy: I nearly drained all the magic from Equestria! That was good!
Tirek: (shoving her away) I absorbed all the magic of Equestria! (flexing biceps) I could feel it flowing through my body as I grew!
(Here comes yet another tripartite study in loudly voiced, dissenting opinions. Across the way, Grogar takes perhaps half a second to have all of this he can stand, then generates a hemispherical wave of black/yellow power and lets it rip. Cut to the three; before any of them can react, they have been plowed all the way to the wall and secured to it with bands of magic—by the forelegs for Chrysalis and Cozy, and the wrists for Tirek. Their other appendages dangle uselessly above the floor.)
Grogar: (from o.s., stomping a foreleg into view; sparks ripple from it) Each of you failed to defeat Twilight Sparkle and her friends! (Slow pan across them, struggling vainly to break loose.) My power is greater than all of yours combined!
(He raises a glowing hoof; cut to him with eyes, horns, and collar bells shining as well.)
Grogar: This is but a fraction of it! Understood?
Chrysalis, Cozy, Tirek: (whimpering) Uh-huh! / Okay!
(The bindings are released, and the captives plop gracelessly to the floor; Grogar lets his spell wind down.)
Grogar: Now you shall retrieve the rest of it.
(The bells fire up again, sending out tendrils that fill the air above the group. Tilt up into their complete blackness, against which a storybook-illustration picture fades into view—a nighttime meadow whose sky displays five moons in a progression of phases. A mass of clouds blows past the camera; behind them, wipe to a silhouette of a happy unicorn mare whose cutie mark portrays a wind gust under a cluster of stars. On the next line, she becomes scared and the camera zooms out to frame Grogar’s face towering over her; the bell seen in the prologue rests near her.)
Grogar: (voice over) Thousands of moons ago, the self-righteous Gusty the Great, unable to best me face to face—
(She grabs the bell in her teeth and peels out.)
Grogar: (voice over) —stole my bewitching bell. (Flames wash over the screen and clear to show it in close-up. Energy laces through it to light up the screen.) A talisman containing much of my own magic.
(Gusty snaps it up in her teeth and gallops away.)
Grogar: (voice over) The bell cannot be destroyed—
(Behind her, a rocky landscape fades into view; she places the bell on a crag. The surrounding boulders are marked with glowing spirals.)
Grogar: (voice over) —so Gusty hid it in a place it has taken me millennia to discover.
(It floats up a foot or two and becomes enveloped in a magic field; cut to a long shot of a windblown mountain summit, from which she leaps out and teleports away, then zoom out.)
Grogar: (voice over) An enchanted cave high atop Mount Everhoof—
(Clouds surge past the camera; behind them, wipe to a pegasus silhouette trying to fly up a snow-covered slope but thoroughly failing due to strong winds.)
Grogar: (voice over) —protected by magical winds that prevent anypony from reaching its peak. (The bell again; fade to black around it and dissolve slowly to an extreme close-up of Grogar’s eye.) There the bell has remained, until now.
(Zoom out quickly to frame his face.)
Grogar: Scale Mount Everhoof. Bring me back my bell. (Cut to the trio; Chrysalis laughs derisively.)
Chrysalis: The ease of this task is laughable.
(Wipe to a long shot of the peak Grogar described, ringed by swirling clouds—the actual Mount Everhoof. A hawk’s keening cry rings through the foreboding gray sky as the camera zooms out to frame them regarding the unforgiving climb from a river that runs some distance from the foothills. Cozy hovers next to Chrysalis and Tirek.)
Chrysalis: (glumly) Well, it sounded easy.
(Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to the pinnacle and pan/tilt down to the trio. This shot is close enough to pick out the winter coat and knit cap Cozy is now wearing. Close-up of Tirek, zooming out to frame each speaker after him in turn.)
Tirek: Scale the mountain—
Chrysalis: —retrieve Grogar’s bell—
Cozy: (brightly) —together!
(She is now holding a scroll. On the next line, she unrolls it to show pictures of all three faces, connected by arrows to the mountain itself; Chrysalis throws an “is she for real?” look to Tirek and flies ahead, with him soon following on hoof.)
Cozy: I drew up a detailed plan with several visual aids to show how we can— (Realizing that she has lost her audience, she deflates.) —ditch each other and do it alone. (slyly, to herself) Maybe when I’m waiting for them at the top, then they’ll appreciate me.
(Tossing the sheet aside, she puts her wings into drive and follows the other two. It flutters past the camera; behind the trailing edge, wipe to Chrysalis flying over the snow-freighted treetops toward the first stage of the ascent. All too soon, the wind currents intensify to the point that she can barely make any headway no matter how hard she strains herself. Spying a clear spot among the forested tracts, she comes in for a landing. Almost as soon as she does so, pairs of hostile red eyes with yellowed whites open from within the undergrowth to glare her way and a few snorting breaths drift after her. Chrysalis strides along, heeding neither them nor the slowly expanding shadow behind her. This last grows to the point of overtaking her, two yellow irises with slitted pupils staring her down point-blank from within lurid red whites. Sparing it the merest over-shoulder glance, she stops short and whirls to face it with a feral hiss. This is enough to scare it and all the other peering eyes away, the light level instantly returning to normal with its retreat.)
Chrysalis: As if anything on this mountain is scarier than I.
(Laughing imperiously, she flies toward the mountain. Wipe to Tirek regarding it from a considerable distance; he scoops up a handful of dirt from the riverbank and blows it upward toward the summit. The particles fly only a few yards before the winds drive them back into the centaur’s face, causing him to cough and splutter as he wipes himself clean. From here, wipe to Cozy relying on leg-power to muscle her way up a snowy path. Standing a short distance ahead is a small cabin with a fenced-in side yard and a stump out front to serve as a chopping block. The front door opens and a lanky stallion, Rusty Bucket, steps out. Earth pony, medium brown coat, dark red-brown eyes, unkempt gray/white mane/tail and scraggly mustache, patched cloak that covers his cutie mark and is lined with fur, metal guards on all four hooves, wooden staff held in one foreleg, shovel strapped to one shoulder, helmet consisting of a battered and discolored metal pail with one section of the side wall cut and rolled up to make room for his face.)
Rusty: (shading eyes) Halt! Who goes there? (He squints for a better look.) A pony? There ain’t been ponies around here in I don’t know how many moons!
(Thinking quickly, Cozy drums up some fake tears and goes into her best pitiful act.)
Cozy: Oh, golly, good sir, I’m just a poor lost pony looking for help. (She sits on her haunches.)
Rusty: (smiling, dropping staff) Oh, don’t fret, little filly. (bowing) Old Rusty Bucket here at your service.
Cozy: I’m so glad I found you! I need help getting to the top of the mountain.
Rusty: (shaking head) Uh, no can do, ma’am.
(The little schemer shifts to full-scale rancor in a lot less than ten seconds flat.)
Cozy: WHY NOT?!?
(The volume of her words sets off a brief tremor in the vicinity.)
Rusty: Shhh! Not so loud! This here’s avalanche territory! I’m the guardian of this here mountain. It’s my job to keep ponies from heading up. Nothing at the top but dangerous snow, dangerous ice, and dangerous wind! Basically, it’s dangerous.
Cozy: (sweetly) It must get lonely all by yourself. Maybe I could be your friend?
Rusty: (smiling) Aw, I’d love a friend!
Cozy: So now that we are friends, you could help me up the mountain.
Rusty: Hmm, uh… (He brings up an open book and consults it.) …a real friend wouldn’t ask me to do something I’m not supposed to do. Says so right here in the journal of friendship written by Twilight Sparkle and her friends.
(On this last sentence, he closes the cover briefly to establish that it is indeed a copy of this very resource, then opens it again to point out a certain passage. This bit of elucidation pushes Cozy to within a hair’s breadth of her breaking point.)
Cozy: ARE—YOU—KIDDING ME?!?!?
(This time around, the force of her yell shakes not only the immediate area, but also the foothills and surrounding forest. A flock of birds is startled into taking flight by the echoes that ring through the frigid air.)
Rusty: Shhh!
(He has set the journal down by now. Cozy does an about-face and starts back the way she came.)
Cozy: (snippily) I didn’t want to be friends anyway.
Rusty: (sadly) Aww…
(Wipe to Chrysalis venturing cautiously onto the ice of a frozen lake. A sudden loss of traction leaves her skittering madly to stay upright, but she manages to get all four hooves firmly planted on the slick surface. With a disgusted glare, she rises clear of it and transforms into a cragodile—the great stone-hided beast that menaced Twilight and company in “Princess Twilight Sparkle.” Gravity does its thing, letting her smash through the ice for an easy swim through the water beneath, and in short order she is battering her way up to daylight on the far shore. Once all four feet are on dry land, she trades in this shape for that of a mountain goat and begins leaping nimbly from one jutting slab to another in order to scale a cliff. She resumes her natural form at its top and stares at the unforgiving climb still ahead.)
Chrysalis: Almost there…
(Determination carries her hooves ahead. Wipe to Tirek, busy at the task of gathering natural materials from the forest: branches, leaves, vines. Piling these together in a small clearing, he thinks for a tick and sets off in a new direction. Wipe to Cozy on the path; as Rusty watches curiously, she lifts off and tries to fly up past the roof of his cabin, only to be stopped dead by the harsh winds and flung back down into the snow. The stallion has put away his friendship journal, and he shakes his head resignedly. Another wipe frames the single-minded filly inching to the top of a drift, but one step too many causes her weight to collapse it and dump her into its heart. She tumbles to the cabin’s front doorstep in a tide of snow and frustration; Rusty sits here on his haunches, having taken up the staff he dropped on their first meeting.)
Rusty: Nope, not that way neither.
(A flurry of snowflakes blows past the camera, wiping the view to a profile close-up. He groans wearily as the camera zooms out to show Cozy peeking out from around one corner of the cabin to make sure his attention is elsewhere. Satisfied, she puts her back to the wall and eases away uphill. Everything goes perfectly until the brown pony stretches his legs a bit, accidentally thumping the end of his staff into his front door’s curving lintel. The resulting vibrations dislodge a sizable volume of snow from the roof, burying Cozy from one end to the other. Two red eyes open through the frozen mass and narrow to a murderous glare, and a teakettle sings out in her head as the snow swiftly melts away to expose her brick-red, steaming, scowling face. By the time she jumps back onto the path and wheels to face Rusty, her coloration has returned to normal, though a few blots of snow still adhere to her form.)
Cozy: (stomping; the area shakes) I tried being nice! (Rusty stands up off the doorstep.)
Rusty: (stammering) Shhh, sh-sh-sh! (Tremors stop.) Now just calm down there, filly!
Cozy: (stomping) You calm down! Ponies are supposed to do what I ask them to do! It’s like my thing, okay?
(More vibrations, accompanied by the sound of something breaking loose upslope—and a glance informs her that a snowball is bearing down on her and growing fast. It bounces onto the path and away, missing Rusty completely but scoring a direct hit on Cozy and carrying her along; except for her fading scream and the dying quake, there is no trace to indicate that she was ever here. Long silence.)
Rusty: (shrugging) Eh.
(He goes back into his cabin and shuts the door. Wipe to Chrysalis, pushing onward and upward through the drifted snow and relentless wind; after a few steps, she pauses to run an eye over the looming Mount Everhoof. All that stands between her and the final drive is a broad gorge filled with mist.)
Chrysalis: (smugly) Apparently I don’t need anypony else.
(A flash of magic turns her into a roc—the giant bird of prey that tried to have Spike for lunch in “Molt Down.” She lifts off, flapping for all she is worth, but can only inch toward the other side of the gorge. Talons scrabble for purchase on the ice, but the effort proves for naught and she is hurled backward to slam her back against a rock at her launch point. Returning to her natural form, she stands up and kicks at the snow with a pair of disgusted grunts.)
(Dissolve to Tirek, who has assembled his accumulated bits and pieces into a serviceable lawn chair and started a campfire in his clearing. The two logs he carries are thrown into the flames, just before Cozy emerges from the underbrush—dripping snow, heaving for breath, and very much out of sorts. Her bedraggled appearance prompts Tirek to uproarious laughter. Evening is falling.)
Cozy: It’s not funny, Tirek!
Tirek: Didn’t make it to the top? Surprise, surprise.
Cozy: You didn’t make it to the top either.
Tirek: I didn’t try to. (Cozy’s eyes pop.)
Cozy: What?!?
Tirek: It took about five minutes to deduce that Grogar was right. None of us could make it up alone. So rather than subject myself to the elements— (standing on his chair) —I decided to let you two face the danger, take what you learned, and use it to my advantage.
(He winds up sitting on his haunches by the time he finishes this line, and he adds a wicked chuckle to cap it off.)
Cozy: (rolling eyes, hovering) I put up with your “I’m smarter than you” attitude in Tartarus, but I’m over it! (She rises to his eye level.)
Tirek: I’d had enough of you trying to manipulate me with that insincere syrupy sweetness! At least now we can see the real you!
Cozy: This is not the real me! I’m cute and lovable!
Tirek: Feh! No, you’re not!
(Cut to a silhouette slithering through the trees—upright and snakelike, but with the head, horns, and forelegs of a bull.)
Tirek: (from o.s.) You’re annoying and you snore! (It emerges gradually into the fading light.)
Cozy: (from o.s.) I do not snore!
(Cut back to the quarreling pair; the big centaur mimics resting his head on a pillow and snores loudly, pointing at her in a silent “oh, yes, you do!” He has stood up from his chair.)
Cozy: (smiling nastily) At least I don’t talk to my Gram-Gram in my sleep. (Needled, he leans into her face.)
Tirek: Don’t you dare bring Gram-Gram into this!
(The beast—an “ophiotaurus”—rears up from the bushes and uncorks a thundering, squealing roar that gets their attention in a very big hurry. The bovine mouth contains a snake’s fangs and forked tongue.)
Cozy, Tirek: (pointing at each other) This is your fault!
(Snap to black in time with a second roar.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the two villains backing fearfully away before the approach of the ophiotaurus. A second, differently colored one emerges from the opposite side of the clearing and roars in answer; the shape of its eyes and the fringe of dark hair running down the back of its head suggest that this one is a female. She bats her eyelashes seductively at the first, male ophiotaurus, who becomes instantly smitten as hearts appear in his eyes and float up between the deadly sharp horns. He slithers over to her, sighing blissfully.)
Cozy: (to Tirek) Quick! It’s distracted! Let’s go!
Tirek: Wait!
(With a roar, the female disappears behind a swirl of green fire and is replaced by Chrysalis, horn aglow and mouth open as far as she can force it. A tiny ball of pink light is visible at the back of her throat, matching the energy that has begun to emanate from the male’s chest. All the vitality leaves him, and he utters a tired moan and slumps where he “stands” as she sucks down his love like a strand of spaghetti. When the last of it is gone, she licks her chops and cuts the spell, and he collapses woozily onto his belly.)
Chrysalis: (pacing past him) Mmmm, so much love. I haven’t eaten this well in ages. (The male groans softly.)
Cozy: (gagging) So gross.
Chrysalis: Just so we’re clear, I didn’t save you because I like you. I did it because…because I…
Cozy: (grinning, flying slowly over to her) Neeeeeed us?
Chrysalis: (reluctantly) Yes.
Tirek: Clearly I was right to wait. Now tell me everything you learned today. Leave nothing out.
(Dissolve to an extreme close-up of the male’s face—now upside down, barely conscious, and seen through a greenish layer that proves to be a changeling cocoon when the camera zooms out. Chrysalis clambers down the side to check her handiwork as Cozy toasts a marshmallow at the campfire, having finally cleaned all the snow off herself from her last attempt to sneak past Rusty.)
Cozy: Why are you doing that?
(Long shot of the site. The cocoon’s upper end is anchored to a stout tree branch so that it clears the ground by a foot or two. Tirek sits in his lawn chair, and Cozy has perched on a stump.)
Cozy: Didn’t you already drain it of love?
Chrysalis: (fluttering down to ground) I always save a little for the next day.
Cozy: You cocoon all of your…meals?
Chrysalis: Of course. (Cozy puts down her skewer.)
Cozy: So when you pony-napped Twilight and the others, you cocooned them.
Chrysalis: Yes… (viciously) …until that sow Starlight Glimmer freed them, corrupted my subjects, and stole my hive!
Tirek: Those ponies have weaknesses. I used that turncoat Discord. Tricked him into helping me capture his so-called “friends.”
Chrysalis: (sighing wistfully) Discord was really something until friendship ruined him.
Tirek: (gleefully) You shoulda seen Twilight’s face when her friends appeared in bubbles around me. She was all…
(He finishes the thought by clapping hands to head and pulling his face this way and that, all the while gibbering madly for maximum comic effect. The impression draws a laugh from Chrysalis and Cozy.)
Cozy: She’s so stressed out all the time!
Chrysalis: When I posed as her former foal-sitter, I thought she was going to implode! (Laughs all around; close-up of Cozy.)
Cozy: I wish I could’ve seen her face when I nearly erased all the magic from Equestria. (Zoom out to frame Tirek on the next line.)
Tirek: All magic was a little excessive, don’t you think?
Cozy: Meh, I think big. (grinning madly) Besides, it would’ve been worth it just to see Twilight and her friends bow down to me!
Tirek: Indeed it would. Who wouldn’t love to see those prissy ponies realize they’d lost everything?
(Chrysalis changes into Twilight, but speaks the next line in her own voice.)
Chrysalis: (“freaking out,” hovering) I’m a pathetic pony princess. I made a detailed list of all the ways I’m a failure!
(Wild laughter from the other two as she becomes herself again.)
Tirek: You know, working with you two may not be the worst thing.
Chrysalis: Mmm—perhaps. As long as it results in the complete destruction of our enemies.
Cozy: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (eagerly) Do the “pathetic princess” thing again!
(The deposed queen shifts to the violet Princess once more, this time performing a series of wildly exaggerated hoof gestures that draws further laughs from the others .Dissolve to the path leading to Rusty’s cabin the following day; the three pick their way toward the structure, Chrysalis in her own form and Cozy riding on Tirek’s shoulder. Stepping out of his front door, the stallion stops cold upon finding not one, but three visitors. Chrysalis transforms to the female ophiotaurus and lets go with a roar that throws him backward and causes the mountainside to do the mambo. Down comes enough snow to bury him and the cabin; all three proceed laughing, Chrysalis as herself again, while Rusty’s head and forelegs break the surface.)
Rusty: I’m okay!
(Wipe to the trio on the move; Cozy flies ahead to scout the next stretch as Tirek pulls down several loops of hanging vines. Another wipe brings them to a fallen tree that blocks the path; now Chrysalis turns into an Ursa Minor, locks claws onto the bark, and heaves the obstacle aside. A third wipe frames Cozy in close-up, straining to pull herself up a steep slope amid the howling winds. One leg slips on the ice and she begins to topple, but a pocked, dark gray leg lashes down to catch her—Chrysalis is herself again, and she lifts the filly up to a safer spot while Tirek brings up the rear. Wipe to the three contemplating the last phase of the ascent from across the gorge that Chrysalis tried and failed to cross in Act Two. Tirek has fashioned the vines he found into a rope and tied a loop at one end, which he cinches around a jutting rock. He passes the other end to Cozy as Chrysalis becomes a roc; the filly allows herself to be gripped in one set of talons and airlifted into the tumult. Great wings beat against the current until Chrysalis can no longer make forward progress, now she flings Cozy ahead to tie off the free end on a rock protruding from the other side of the gorge. The job done, Cozy waves the other two on; Chrysalis, now back at the starting point and in her on form, changes to a monkey and starts to traverse the gap with the help of all four limbs and her tail. Tirek follows suit, and Chrysalis reverses her quick change once she has gained the opposite ridge and he is finishing the traverse.)
(Dissolve to the three standing in a small clearing near the peak and zoom in slowly. Before them is a cave whose entrance is marked by the same glowing spirals seen in Grogar’s Act One account of the bewitching bell’s hiding place. Chrysalis flies toward it, but an invisible force field repels her sharply, flaring yellow on contact; with a scream, she tumbles to the snow on her back. Cozy and Tirek approach the cave, but the big guy’s attempt to reach in is also blocked; he recoils with a pained grunt and shakes his hand as if it had been burned.)
Cozy: Can you absorb it and make it go away?
Tirek: I can only absorb magic from living beings.
Cozy: (pointing toward Chrysalis) Like her?
(The changeling, now up to all fours, becomes instantly distrustful of the other two.)
Chrysalis: Betrayal!
Cozy: Not betrayal, teamwork. If Tirek absorbs your energy— (lifting/flexing one of his arms) —he might be strong enough to break through.
Chrysalis: And then?
Cozy: Then…he gives it back.
Tirek: (puzzled) I do?
Cozy: (nodding) Mmm-hmm.
Chrysalis: How do I know you won’t take my magic and leave me?
Cozy: (hovering to her) Would we do that to you?
(This response earns an accusing hoof pointed straight at her.)
Cozy: Okay, normally, yes, we would.
Tirek: (very reluctantly) I’ll give you your magic back. (Slow pan across the tableau; Chrysalis steels herself.)
Chrysalis: Do it.
(Both of them kick-start their horns, a stream of green power flowing from Chrysalis’s and turning to red-orange as Tirek guzzles it down and begins to grow. When the transfer ends, she flops bonelessly into the snow and looks up through faded, filmy eyes to find the centaur every inch as big and bad as when he first squeezed Equestria dry.)
Tirek: So much POWER!!
(He kisses one of his newly upsized biceps and warms up a spell.)
Tirek: Welcome back, baby!
(Cut to the cave entrance on the end of this; his blast crashes into the force field and opens a small hole, seen from the side opposite him.)
Tirek: It’s not big enough for me!
Cozy: Maybe not you!
(She, though, has ample clearance to dart through the gap.)
Cozy: Keep it open, or I’ll be trapped forever! (Fly into the cave.)
Chrysalis: (weakly) Would that be so terrible?
(A nasty chuckle from the giant is the only response she gets, but it soon becomes a long, strained groan as he pours on the juice.)
Tirek: (with great effort) Can’t hold much longer!
(Close-up of the crackling barrier on the end of this, then back to him, seen from the cave side.)
Tirek: HURRY!!
(And here comes Cozy, pulling every shred of airspeed from her wings that she can get. She has found the bell, and she rockets out through the hole an instant before Tirek’s spell gives out and the field re-establishes itself. Only an impact with a snowdrift stops her from going over the edge; she ends up buried, but pops her head and forelegs out to hold up the item.)
Cozy: Ta-da!
Chrysalis: (to Tirek) My magic!
(He flexes a bicep, relishing the sensation of having all his power back—then, only somewhat willingly, opens his mouth and gets a spell going. The magic transference runs in reverse now, he shrinking and she rising to her hooves with her full potency restored.)
Chrysalis: I…I wasn’t sure you were going to give it back.
Tirek: (shrugging) Neither was I. But working together seemed smarter than to continue fighting. (Cozy hovers between them.)
Cozy: When we helped each other, it felt better somehow.
Chrysalis: I haven’t felt like this since before I lost my hive. Having others who will be there for you is…pleasing. (Close-up of Tirek, panning to each speaker in turn.)
Tirek: All of these years, taking power from ponies.
Cozy: When you use your power to help others…
Chrysalis: Yes! It feels…
(She is within an ace of finishing that thought when her eyes pop wide open in a sudden, horrified realization. Zoom out quickly to frame all three.)
Chrysalis: NOOOOOO!! (Surprised reactions from the others.) The magic of friendship is like a disease! An infection that spreads to those around you! I watched it infect my hive. I will not let it get me!
Cozy: (rattled) Same!
Tirek: (ditto) Obviously.
Cozy: But Grogar said we have to work together.
Chrysalis: (cunningly) Grogar is too powerful. Something must be done about that. Let Grogar think we’re his loyal servants. (Close-up of her.) In the meantime, we’ll hatch our own plan.
(Zoom out to frame Cozy on the next line, her half-crazed expression broadcasting enthusiastic agreement.)
Cozy: Oooooooh, I love a good backstabbing.
Tirek: After that, we can go back to trying to destroy each other.
Cozy: (holding up bell) In the meantime, what do we do with this?
(Dissolve to Grogar’s swamp, now spread out under an unwholesome night sky.)
Grogar: (voice over) You’ve failed to retrieve the bell?!?
(An impact and tremor accompany this last word; cut to ground level inside, the camera pointing through his hooves toward the contrite trio. Chrysalis is upright, Cozy and Tirek kneeling, and Cozy no longer has either her winter apparel or the bell. The shake-up was caused by a stomp of the goat’s hoof, no doubt.)
Cozy: W-W-We’re sorry, O mighty Grogar!
Tirek: We worked together as you asked.
Chrysalis: (dropping to haunches) We just aren’t as powerful as you.
(Cut to him, standing on the elevated platform of his central chamber. He voices an infuriated roar, horns and collar bells blazing yellow, and channels his rage into firing off a spell to blow a hole through a wall. The underlings, now standing/hovering, boggle at the blast in close-up; on the start of the next line, zoom out to frame him now at their level.)
Grogar: Obviously! At least you finally did as you were told and worked together. (He stalks off toward the new doorway; the others call after him.)
Cozy: Of course!
Tirek: Whatever you command!
Chrysalis: Forget about that old bell. You were right. We’re so much more powerful when we work as a team.
(She cuts her eyes knowingly to one side on these last six words, and the camera zooms in and pans slightly in that direction to frame the base of a half-broken rock wall behind her. The bell has been tucked away here, white light pulsing from its surface cracks, decorations, and clapper. Fade to black.)
SWEET AND SMOKY
Written by Kim Beyer-Johnson
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to the sun shining in a cheery daytime sky. A bird loops downward, the camera following its motion and stopping on a long shot of the School of Friendship. The sound of knocking is heard; cut to a set of closed doors inside, which are pushed open from beyond to expose Smolder standing in a corridor.)
Smolder: Uh, Headmare Twilight?
(A longer shot puts her at the entrance to the teachers’ lounge. Twilight Sparkle sits at a table, signing her way through a stack of paperwork with help from her telekinesis, while Fluttershy and Spike are relaxing on one of the couches. The pegasus has helped herself to a cup of tea from a handy table.)
Smolder: Sorry to bug you in the teachers’ lounge. (She flies in and lands at the table.) Is it okay if I miss class?
Twilight: Mmm-hmm. You can make it up tomorrow.
Smolder: Actually, I’ll be gone for a week. (Twilight lets page and quill drop, eyes popping in shock.)
Twilight: A week?! In the middle of the semester?
Fluttershy: Oh! Is everything all right, Smolder?
Smolder: (a bit reluctantly) Not exactly. (Sigh.) My brother’s been having a hard time since I left for school. I want to go home and check on him. He’s a really sweet guy, and the other dragons can be kinda rough. (Spike hovers up to her level.)
Spike: Did you say “sweet guy” and “dragon” in the same sentence?
Smolder: (smiling, elbowing him in the gut, poking his nose) Yeah. He’s sorta like you, Spike.
Spike: (bashfully) Awww…
(Twilight climbs off her chair and crosses to the two dragons.)
Twilight: I’m sorry to hear about your brother, Smolder, but the Dragon Lands are really far for you to go by yourself. And I’m not sure about you missing so much class.
Spike: (brightening) Hey! What if she got a school credit for it? Kinda like a, a…a kindness field trip! (arm around Smolder’s shoulders) I’ll go with her! (She returns the gesture.)
Smolder: Thanks! (Fluttershy has put her cup aside.) The Dragon Lord is way too busy for personal problems when it’s baby dragon hatching season.
(Fluttershy moves almost faster than thought to hunch eagerly toward her over the nearest armrest.)
Fluttershy: Baby dragon hatching season? (Gasp.) All those cute little snouts poking out of those adorable little shells? Teeny tiny twitchy tails? Can I go too? (Big, shiny-eyed, pleading grin.)
Twilight: Well, you are the perfect pony to lead a kindness field trip.
(The grin copies itself across the scaly violet and orange faces, and after a long bit of deliberation, Twilight relents with a smiling sigh.)
Twilight: Fine. (turning to table) But I’m gonna expect a full report when you get back. (The enthusiasm level drops noticeably.)
Smolder: How many pages?
Twilight: (smirking) I was talking to Fluttershy. Hatching season sounds fascinating!
(Cut to other three on the end of this, their spirits instantly lifting. Giggles pass from one to another as the view fades to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to a slow pan from the sunlit grasslands of Equestria to the rocky, overcast territory of the Dragon Lands.)
Spike: (voice over) Okay. I made a list of what cheers me up when I’m down, so if your brother’s like me, he’s gonna love it!
(Close-up of him walking alongside Smolder with backpack slung up and list in hand. The older dragon is framed from the neck down. They are still on Equestrian turf.)
Spike: Oh, what should we do first? The smile song, the sharing circle, or friendship bracelet weaving? (Tilt up to Smolder’s face.)
Smolder: I’m not sure those are the kind of things my brother’s gonna be into. (Longer shot; Fluttershy is a pace or two back.)
Fluttershy: Well, what would make your brother happy? (All stop.)
Smolder: Just having Spike and me accept him for who he is will make a huge difference. (Close-up.) Dragons who appreciate his more sensitive side.
Spike: (from o.s.) I got it! (Zoom out to frame all three; he has stowed the list.) Show tunes!
Smolder: (walking on) Yeah, no, but good try.
(Fluttershy moves out after her, leaving Spike at a bit of a loss. Wipe to the group now within the Dragon Lands and following a winding path toward a lava flow that cascades down from a craggy rock formation to pool at the base. Wisps of steam rise from the ground, and Fluttershy sniffs cautiously at the air.)
Fluttershy: Oh! (Pinch nostrils shut.) Um, that’s an interesting smell. (Smolder takes a lungful of the fumes and smiles.)
Smolder: Ahhhhh, the stink of sulfur… (Close-up of one foot grinding into the hardpan; she continues o.s.) …sharp rocks under my claws… (Cut to her and Spike; she sighs.) …it’s good to be home.
Spike: I can’t wait to meet your brother, Smolder. (Fluttershy lets go of her nose.) We’re gonna be best buddies. I just know it!
Smolder: He usually hangs out near here. I’ll go try and find him.
(Once she has lifted off, Spike flaps up to a boulder and sits so that he is roughly at Fluttershy’s eye level, then removes his pack and sets it down. On the next line, he fishes around and brings out a pink cloth decorated with a large central heart ringed by smaller ones; the knitting needles protruding from this give it away as a homemade project.)
Fluttershy: Spike, do you mind if I take a peek at the cute little baby eggs?
Spike: No problem. I’ll stay here and finish this comfort blanket. (nuzzling it) It’ll be like a hug every time Smolder’s brother wraps it around himself.
Fluttershy: Aww, I’m sure he’ll love it, Spike.
(She heads out as he puts his needles into gear. Wipe to a narrow, unforgiving trail that branches and winds its way downhill through a stretch of jagged formations. Fluttershy flies cautiously down along it to ground level, then switches to leg-power and stops short with a long gasp after a few yards.)
Fluttershy: (eyes shining) Oh…my…goodness!
(She has arrived at a long, narrow plain whose surface is marked by dozens of shallow holes, each of which contains several eggs in a variety of shell colors and patterns. Flying over the panorama, she comes to rest at the edge of one depression and hunkers down to smile over a particular egg.)
Fluttershy: Good morning, little one. I’ve come a long way to meet you. Did you know there’s a whole wide world out here waiting to say hello? (caressing it, shifting to baby talk) Did you? Oh, did you, boo?
(The string of nonverbal cooing that follows is cut off abruptly by the next voice after a few seconds.)
Dragon Lord Ember: (from o.s.) It can’t answer you.
(Fluttershy glances up; cut to frame both, Ember standing next to her.)
Ember: It’s an egg. (Fluttershy straightens up and bows.)
Fluttershy: Uh, Dragon Lord Ember! How nice to see you!
Ember: Nice to see you too…uh…which one are you again? The party one? Apple Dash. Or was that the country one?
Fluttershy: Fluttershy. (sitting, cuddling an egg) The one who loves creatures. (hesitantly) Are…all these…yours?
Ember: (blushing) What?! No! None of them are! (a bit wearily) Watching over eggs is just part of the glamorous life of a Dragon Lord.
Fluttershy: (setting egg down) I think it sounds wonderful.
Ember: Yeah? Then maybe you can help.
Fluttershy: (gasping excitedly) I’d love to! Just tell me what to do. (Grin.)
Ember: (sighing, pacing away) I don’t know. (Fluttershy stands.) It’s my first time being in charge. Dad wasn’t big on sharing Dragon Lord details. It’s kind of a “burn or be burned” job.
Fluttershy: Well, I’m sure you’re doing great.
Ember: Not really. (kneeling, tapping an egg) The eggs should’ve hatched by now, but none of them have even cracked. (Fluttershy peers at it.)
Fluttershy: Oh, dear. Maybe they’re…lonely? (to them; both straighten up) Don’t you worry. Auntie Fluttershy’s here, and the Dragon Lord and I are going to do everything we can to welcome you into this world.
Ember: Really? How?
Fluttershy: Um… (Her smile fades as her eyes constrict in mild panic.) …I have no idea.
(Her uncertain look fails to inspire confidence in the reptilian ruler. Wipe to Spike, now sitting at the base of an outcropping near the lava pool and knitting happily away. One or two more stitches, and he stands up, extricates the needles, and holds up the completed blanket he fished out of his backpack earlier. The bag itself has been stashed elsewhere.)
Spike: Now that’s a thing of beauty.
(He has only a fraction of a second to admire it before a cluster of winged shadows falls over him; looking up, he finds no fewer than four dragons silhouetted against the sun. One drops toward the camera, filling the screen with a patch of underbelly before the view shifts back to Spike.)
Spike: Whoa!
(He crouches down, raising the blanket as a meager shield, as the new arrivals land—Garble and three other males, one each of brown, orange, and purple.)
Garble: Well, if it isn’t our little pony friend Spike.
(The little guy lowers his craft project and draws himself up to full height.)
Spike: That’s “Equestria’s official friendship ambassador to the Dragon Lands” to you. And I’m not little. I had the molt. (spreading wings) See?
(The show-off move brings a round of derisive laughter from the quartet of ne’er-do-wells.)
Garble: Oh-ho-ho, runt’s got wings! I’m so impressed. (puzzled, pointing) What’s that supposed to be?
(Realizing that the red finger is targeting the blanket, Spike hastily yanks it behind his back.)
Spike: Nothing!
(His big dopey grin does nothing whatever to slow down Garble’s grab at it. The first try hits only air, but the second gets a fistful of fabric and drags Spike off his feet with a yell as he dangles from the opposite end. A bit of shaking dislodges him.)
Garble: Looks like a baby blanket to me! (Spike stands up, all indignation.)
Spike: It’s not a baby blanket! It’s a… (deflating) …comfort blanket.
(After a long, incredulous pause, the delinquents let go with an even heartier gale of laughter.)
Garble: (wrapping it around his head like a kerchief) Aw, did your pony pals make it for you with friendship and gumdrops?
Spike: No, I made it. And by the way, knitting is a lot harder than it looks.
Garble: (running to a clear spot) Check out the baby blanket, guys! (whirling it overhead) It’s a lot harder than it looks!
(He ends by flicking it like a rubber band; Purple snags it out of the air and tosses it back, and it is kept well out of Spike’s reach during the following despite his flying lunges.)
Garble: (laughing) Got your bwankie! (He passes off to Orange.)
Orange: Aw, diddle baby crying! (Throw to Brown.)
Garble: Oop! Missed! (Orange shoves Spike down.)
Orange: (catching) Bet he broke a claw and everything! (The mockery continues as he throws it in a new direction.)
Spike: Give it back! (It sails back to Garble.) That’s for my friend!
(The keep-away players find this so amusing that they emit jets of flame while laughing themselves stupid—yellow at first, then bright pink, and finally pale blue—and Spike hits the deck when they swing his way.)
Spike: Cut it out! You know laugh-fire’s dangerous! It can…
(The blanket is held up and torched to leave only a charred remnant, and he stands up as the pyrotechnic mirth winds down.)
Spike: …do that.
Smolder: (from o.s.) Garble! (Surprised, Garble, drops the scrap and smiles.)
Garble: Smolder? (running past Spike, elbowing him aside) What are you doing here?
(The two dragons arrive face to face and go into a greeting routine. Fist bump; stand back to back and bang elbows together; give/receive double high fives; end by smacking the ends of their tails into one another.)
Brown: (to Smolder) How’s it scaling, brah?
(Spike wings across to push Smolder aside for a quick private talk.)
Spike: (whispering) We’d better get out of here before your brother shows up. (holding up ruined blanket) Garble isn’t very nice to sensitive dragons.
Smolder: (as he lands) But Garble is my brother.
Spike: (flabbergasted) Your brother?!?
(Who chooses this moment to stand behind him with a most unpleasant grin.)
Garble: (jabbing a finger onto Spike’s forehead, spinning him 180 degrees) Got a problem with that, pony boy?
Spike: (small voice) Oh, brother.
(He breaks into a full-body shiver as the realization sinks all the way in. Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to a surly Garble, a befuddled Smolder, and a scared-out-of-his-wits Spike. The smallest dragon shudders audibly as the largest sneers down at him.)
Smolder: (to Garble, pushing Spike aside) I’ve missed you, bro! (bumping fists, thumping his chest) We got a lot of fun to catch up on. There’s no lava diving at school. (Cut to the other three dragons on the next line.)
Brown: Good luck getting Garble to do anything.
Orange: Huh, yeah. He’s been so weird since you left—hiding and moping around.
Garble: (needled, blowing yellow fire at him) I have not!
Brown, Orange, Purple: Have so!
Smolder: Easy, guys. I learned at Twilight’s school, ganging up on each other isn’t half as cool as you think.
Brown: (sarcastically) Aww, pony school made you soft!
(In close-up, he finds himself being yanked down for a one-on-one with the “soft” dragon, who is having exactly none of his sass.)
Smolder: Want to try me and find out?
Brown: (cowed, swallowing hard) M-Maybe later. (Cut to frame all six on the next line.)
Spike: (brightly) So, uh, let’s get lava diving. What do you say?
Orange: Better stay here, shrimp. Lava might ruin your blankie-wankie.
Garble: (thumping Spike’s shoulder) Let the wimp tag along. Then we’ll have somedragon to gonk!
(He delivers a smack to the side of the violet head on this last word and laughs harshly as its owner struggles to keep his balance.)
Smolder: (shifting to stand between them) Hmph. Only gonna warn you once. Spike’s my friend. You mess with him, you mess with me. Besides, he came here to hang out with you, Garble.
(The older sibling’s beady eyes stare aghast at her, then shift worriedly toward his three buddies, who get a rise out of this declaration and give voice to it along with pale blue “laugh-fire.”)
Orange: Aww, how sweet. Hah!
Brown: Let’s go do dragon stuff. Garble can have fun with his new friend!
(The soulful eyes he adds to the end of this spark him and the other two hangers-on into further laughs and blue flames as they lift off.)
Garble: (calling after them) But I’m not having fun, a-and he’s not my friend! (He snarls to himself; behind him, Spike has ditched the remains of the blanket now.)
Smolder: Nah, just ignore him, Gar-Gar. (He wheels on her, suddenly even more ill at ease.)
Garble: Smolder, not in public! (She smiles down at Spike.)
Spike: Oh, it’s okay to have a nickname. Sometimes I’m called Spikey-wikey.
Garble: Seriously? You’re admitting this? (He claps a hand disgustedly to his face and addresses Smolder.) I am not hanging out with him.
Smolder: Give him a chance, Garble. You guys have a lot in common.
Garble: (groaning loudly) Fine! Race you to the lava pit.
(A few pumps of his wings carry him away; Smolder makes to follow, but is stopped by Spike.)
Spike: Wait! I thought you said your brother was sweet.
Smolder: All the tough-guy stuff is just an act. He’s a big marshmallow.
Spike: Yeah, not seeing it.
Smolder: Well…maybe a burned marshmallow. Smoky on the outside, but squishy inside. He just needs friends who can appreciate that part, like you. (concerned) You’re not changing your mind about helping me cheer him up, are you?
Spike: Me? ’Course not!
(He chuckles and holds a slightly strained grin for the time it takes her to go airborne and head after Garble, then lets it drop with a heavy sigh at the prospect of having to deal with this lout. Wipe to the three standing at the edge of a pit filled with sluggishly bubbling lava, at the bottom of a wide crater.)
Smolder: Okay! Lava jumping! Just like old times, huh, Gar-Gar?
Garble: (sourly) Yeah, just like old times— (glaring at Spike) —except for one little annoying thing.
Smolder: (racing to edge) Scales awaaayyy!
(A headfirst dive plunges her into the molten rock; head and shoulders quickly break the surface so she can spit out a mouthful.)
Smolder: Come on in! The lava’s fine!
(She does a lazy backstroke to underscore the point, but Garble only voices an irritated sigh.)
Spike: You know, whenever I’m feeling a little down, it—it always helps if I do something with a friend. How about we jump together?
(Cut to the scarlet grump on the end of this, staring in mild disbelief at the violet hand being extended his way. The toothy mouth curves into a smile—and then, instead of grasping the clawed digits, he swings his tail around to bat Spike into the lava. There follows a most undignified belly flop in close-up, then a slow descent below the surface; zoom out to frame Smolder on the next line.)
Smolder: (sympathetically) Ooh! (Wince.) Spike? You okay?
(He comes up for air with a gasp, the tip of his nose red and inflamed, and speaks his next two lines in a congested tone of voice.)
Spike: Uh, I know there must be something worse than lava up your nose.
(A violent sneeze expels a runnel of the hot stuff, but leaves a bit dribbling from his nostrils and causes his eyes to tear up. He wipes himself clean, the angry tinge gone from his nose.)
Spike: I just don’t know what it is.
Garble: (from o.s.) CANNONBALL!!
(Cut to him on the end of this, now balanced at the lip of the crater high above the pit. He jumps, curling his body into a ball, and Spike has just enough time for one scream before the splash from Garble’s impact sends a gobbet of lava down his throat and submerges him all over again. Garble pops up, arms raised in triumph.)
Garble: Woo-hoo!
(He and Smolder look around, neither finding any immediate trace of Spike.)
Garble: (mockingly) Oops!
(As he backstrokes insouciantly across the pit, little sister dives in and fishes up the baby dragon, who coughs up a goodly amount of the contents as his eyes go bloodshot and swollen.)
Spike: (hoarsely) Swallowing lava— (Gulp.) —swallowing lava is definitely worse.
Garble: My bad.
(He continues to swim as Smolder rolls her eyes and Spike offers a faint smile, his eyes back to normal. Dissolve to a slow tilt down toward the plain that serves as the dragon eggs’ hatchery; Fluttershy sits at the edge of one hole, holding a book.)
Fluttershy: (reading, tenderly) “And then they all lived happily ever after.” (Set it aside; pet an egg.) Time to come out, little ones.
(As before, she shifts into baby-talk cooing and lets a hoof play across the ovoid surface. When this fails to produce any change in its condition, she shifts back to recognizable words.)
Fluttershy: Maybe you’d like a song?
(She pulls in a deep breath in preparation, but bites it off at the sound of Ember’s voice; zoom out on the start of the next line to put her in the fore.)
Ember: I think you might be encouraging them to stay in. Dragons aren’t much for touchy-feely stuff. (Fluttershy stands up to face her.)
Fluttershy: Oh! I’m sorry.
(A rattling from o.s.; she gasps and turns to find the eggs rattling where they lie.)
Fluttershy: Goodness! Why are the eggs shaking? (Gasp and smile; hunker down to them.) Are they finally hatching?
Ember: I wish. (Fluttershy gets up.) They’ve been doing that for days. I’m sure it means something, but it’s probably not good.
(Dragon and pony brains begin to mull over this new development before the view wipes to a close-up of a disdainful Garble, now out of the lava pit. Spike holds a cupcake into view toward him and speaks in his normal voice.)
Spike: (from o.s.) Try this! Red velvet!
(Longer shot: brother and sister are sitting at a makeshift table, covered with a red/white-checked cloth and at the edge of the pit. It has been set for teatime, with cups/bowls full of gemstones instead of any conventional refreshments, and Spike hovers to hold his treat for Garble’s inspection. Smolder has appropriated a cupcake for herself, which she happily tosses into her mouth and swallows.)
Spike: Guaranteed to brighten anycreature’s spirits.
(Except this particular one, apparently; he smacks the treat from Spike’s hand so that is splatters on the stones, then grinds the remains underfoot.)
Garble: (sitting again) Feeling better already!
(The thwarted baker can only stare at the wreckage, a few traces of tears gathering in the green eyes. Wipe to the three in flight.)
Spike: (brightly, to Garble) I don’t know about you, but a change of scenery always turns my frown upside down.
(He flips onto his back for these last two words, but is then roughly shoved away with a yell to plow into a nearby cloud. By the time he digs himself out and dusts off the puffs of vapor clinging to him—looking somewhat like a diaper and a baby’s pacifier—Garble is sticking his tongue out and holding one hand up with thumb and forefinger extended as a capital L. Spike seethes to himself at having been silently called a loser as Garble and Smolder continue on their way.)
Spike: (quietly, to himself, flying after them) I will be the bigger dragon. I will be the bigger dragon. I will be the bigger dragon. I will be the bigger dragon.
(Wipe to the three in a different stretch of the Dragon Lands, this one studded with protruding red crystal growths. Spike sits between Smolder, also seated, and Garble, who lounges testily against a boulder.)
Spike: Sometimes, just hearing what someone appreciates about you can make you feel better about yourself.
Smolder: I’ll go first. Spike, I think it’s really nice that you’re trying to cheer up Gar-Gar. (Who groans.)
Spike: Thank you, Smolder. My turn. (to Garble) I like how you always let everycreature know how you’re feeling, Gar-Gar.
Garble: (incensed, breathing yellow fire) Only Smolder gets to call me that!
(The outburst leaves a coating of soot on the violet face.)
Spike: (hoarsely, wheezing) Thank you for speaking your truth.
(He keels over with a moan. Wipe to a long shot of a lava flow oozing slowly down a tumbled mountainside and pooling in a natural basin along the way. Garble’s three no-account friends are up here, Brown at a higher elevation than Orange and Purple.)
Brown: (flying down to them) More fresh lava, coming up!
(All three put their effort into shifting one of the great stones that make up the side of the basin. Once it gives way, the glowing-hot liquid gushes out through the new opening and the level in the pool starts to drop rapidly. Cut to the base of the slope; it oozes down to join a stream as Garble, Smolder, and Spike fly into view, the last with his face clean again.)
Spike: Okay, new activity. (All land.) Who wants to make vision boards?
Orange: (from o.s.) Hey, Garble! Smolder!
(Cut to him at the top of the newly opened spillway, balanced on a flat slab of rock as if it were a surfboard.)
Orange: SURF’S UUUUUP!!
(Down he comes, followed by Brown and Purple on their own boards.)
Garble: (grabbing a fourth, running to stream edge) Let me show you how it’s done!
(Spike finds himself knocked to a sitting position by the red dragon’s passage. Once Garble has hurled himself in to ride the current, Smolder wraps her claws around a formation and prepares to uproot it.)
Smolder: (to Spike) You coming?
Spike: I’ll…catch up with you.
(The young orange dragon nods, wrenches it loose, and is off to the races after flipping him a salute, leaving him to sigh dejectedly to himself. Pan slightly away from the stream to frame Fluttershy as she descends to the stony bank.)
Fluttershy: Oh, Spike! (Land.) There you are!
Spike: Hey, Fluttershy.
Fluttershy: For a land that’s all rocks, this place is surprisingly easy to get lost in.
Spike: How are the baby dragons doing?
Fluttershy: (worried) The eggs won’t hatch! They just keep shaking! I’m starting to think the dragons are too scared to come out. I was hoping you could help, if you’re not too busy cheering up Smolder’s brother.
Spike: (sullenly) Not a chance. Smolder’s brother is Garble. (Fluttershy gasps in shock.) The only thing that cheers him up is to make me miserable.
Garble: (from o.s.) Hey, Spike!
(Looking up, Spike finds him and the other three troublemakers hovering over the lava stream without their boards.)
Garble: Want to play lava ball?
(He demonstrates the sport by scooping up a double handful of the stuff and pitching it directly at Spike…)
Spike: Huh?
(…who sidesteps just in time to avoid catching it with his face. One vexed yellow pegasus flaps over to address the foursome.)
Fluttershy: Excuse me, but that’s not a very nice game!
(The whole crew proceeds to get in on the act, serving sliders and change-ups and fastballs as Garble laughs nastily. Cut to Fluttershy and Spike, the latter dodging one after another as they splat on the stream bank.)
Brown: (from o.s.) Ah, nearly got you!
Fluttershy: ENOUGH!!
(All four, instantly stunned into silence, let their balls drop back into the stream as the last echoes of her shout fade away. She clears her throat demurely before continuing at her normal speaking volume, but with an assertive undertone.)
Fluttershy: I mean, leave my friend alone, please. Spike came all this way to cheer up Garble, which was a very kind thing to do.
Orange: (to Garble, tauntingly) Aww, do you need cheering up?
Brown: (baby talk) What’s wrong, Garble? Did somedwagon hurt your wittle feelings?
Garble: (angrily, shoving him back) No! I-I don’t know what she’s talking about! Spike’s the one that’s gonna cry!
Smolder: (from o.s.) Hey!
(Cut to her, still balanced on her board and farther down the slope.)
Smolder: Are we lava surfing or what?
Garble: (hastily, leaning into view) O-Oh, yeah, yeah! Heh. (to his friends) Let’s go hang with a real dragon, not a pony wannabe!
(They fly down to the teen, leaving a preoccupied Fluttershy and Spike—the latter now hovering.)
Spike: See? It’s no use. (He touches down with a quiet sigh.) Why don’t I see what I can do about the eggs, and you cheer up Garble? (walking away) At least he listens to you.
Fluttershy: (determinedly, to herself) Just you wait, Garble. You’re dealing with Fluttershy now, and she’s packing a whole lifetime of kindness.
(Zoom in to a close-up of her fierce countenance, then wipe to an overhead shot of a couple of pits in the hatchery plain. The eggs vibrate where they lie, in time with a weary sigh from Ember, and the camera swivels up to frame her bent down over a different clutch.)
Ember: (poking one egg) Coochie-coochie-coo… (Another sigh.) …coochie-coochie-coo… (losing/regaining patience) …coochie! Coochie-coo…coochie-coochie… (temper fraying again) …I said, coochie—
Spike: (from o.s.) Uh, what are you doing?
(She stands up with a sharp gasp and smiles as he flies down to her, spirits much improved.)
Ember: Spike!
Spike: Hi, Ember! (He hugs as much of her as he can reach.)
Ember: (patting his head) Shouldn’t you be doing whatever it is you do at Twilight’s school? (He backs off, good cheer instantly evaporating.)
Spike: I wish. It’s a long story. (Now he gets an eyeful of the clutches.) Wow! These eggs really do look scared.
(Every single one of them is quaking, up and down the plain as far as the eye can see. Now he bends down and places a palm and cheek against the floor of one depression.)
Spike: Wait. Aren’t the hatching grounds supposed to be hot?
Ember: (disdainfully) Uh, of course. (Spike stands up.) There’s a lake of molten lava under them. That’s why the eggs are laid here. The heat makes them hatch.
Spike: Then something’s wrong. I don’t think the eggs are shaking ’cause they’re afraid. (He kneels and touches two of them.) They’re cold.
(The Dragon Lord presses a palm of her own against the bottom of the hole he has chosen, red eyes popping wide as her brain sorts out the sensory data.)
Ember: You’re right! But what happened to the lava? (Spike stands up and smiles after a moment’s pondering.)
Spike: I might have an idea.
(Wipe to Fluttershy in flight over a stretch of stony landscape.)
Fluttershy: (voice raised) Garble! (She perches on a mesa.) Smolder! (Hover off it.) Is anydragon there?
(After a few dozen yards’ flight in a random direction, she touches down but almost immediately stops short at the sound of a rhythm being played on a pair of bongos.)
Fluttershy: (normal volume, thunderstruck) Oh, my! Are those…bongo drums?
(The situation goes a little farther out in left field when Garble’s voice layers itself over the percussion—quiet and intense, a far cry from his usual surly tone. She trots off in search of the source, the camera panning to follow.)
Garble: (from o.s.) Fire, dragon.
Wig-and-waggin’.
Feelin’ like
I be saggin’.
(The motion brings him and Smolder into view on the end of the last line, and she stops short with a gasp. The elder dragon has donned a striped sweater, short scarf, and beret in the style of a 1950s-era beatnik, and is the one playing the bongos—fashioned from stone—while the younger snaps her clawed fingers to the beat, utterly lost in the groove.)
Smolder: (laughing) Oh, yeah. I dig.
Garble: Raging lava,
Balaclava.
(Only after Fluttershy has come within a few feet do they notice her presence; Smolder stops snapping.)
Smolder: Huh?
(Garble voices a half-choked cry of surprise and throws off his poet getup, bringing a puzzled look to the yellow mare’s face. Wipe to Brown flying up to a slab of rock that forms part of a natural wall.)
Brown: (pulling it away; lava pours out) Fresh lava, coming up!
(It courses down into a pool where Orange and Purple are luxuriating, and he zips in to join them as the level falls in the one he has just tapped. Ember and Spike fly into view in the fore to survey the goings-on.)
Spike: See? (They land at the edge of the upper pool.) I wondered where that lava was coming from. They must be draining it from the underground lake!
(The Dragon Lord gives voice to an incensed snarl and dives through the air, planting both feet at the edge of the pool in which the three miscreants are cooling it.)
Ember: Put that rock back! Immediately!
Brown: (instantly unnerved) Uh, yes, Dragon Lord Ember!
Ember: How long have you been removing these boulders?
Brown: Uh…a while?
Orange: I-It made our lava pool so…nice and warm-like.
(He finds himself nose to nose with a sovereign whose rising growl tells just how badly she wants to turn him into cold cuts.)
Ember: It’s supposed to be heating the eggs! Now they’ll never hatch!
(Chastened, her three subjects sink into the lava until every last bit of them is lost to sight. Fade to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to a longer shot of the mountainside lava pools. Ember and Spike keep watch as the three hooligans scramble and strain to plug the holes they opened and scoop the lava back into its original place.)
Brown: Sorry, Dragon Lord Ember!
Orange: We’ll put the lava back!
Brown: Here you go, lava! Oh, come on! So difficult! (wiping a glob off his face) And liquid-y!
Spike: I don’t think it works that way. (to Ember) The hatching grounds can’t be the only warm place in the Dragon Lands. There’s gotta be somewhere else we can take the eggs.
Ember: You know how fragile those things are? No way we’ll be able to move them all safely. (snarling, to Brown/Orange/Purple) You! Go and bring all the dragons to the hatching grounds. We’ll have to make the heat ourselves.
(Resignedly, all three take to the air. Wipe to Fluttershy, Garble, and Smolder in the spot where the mare stumbled across the tough guy’s love of poetry.)
Garble: (setting bongos down, leaning into her face) What do you think you’re doing, sneaking around here, pony?
Fluttershy: (smiling) Sneaking? It looks to me like the only one sneaking around is you, Garble. Why didn’t you tell me you were a poet?
(A moment’s mental lockup translates to a brief pause before he can manage an answer.)
Garble: I’m not!
(Fluttershy notices the discarded drums, gasps softly, and scoops them up. A couple of experimental taps prompt bewildered looks between Garble and Smolder and a shrug of the orange shoulders for good measure. In short order, though, Fluttershy has worked up a rhythm and some words to put over it in Garble’s style of performing.)
Fluttershy: Words, rhythm, sometimes rhyme.
Weird punctu…ation.
(normal cadence) Sure sounds like poetry to me. (Stop playing.)
Smolder: (patting Garble’s shoulder) It’s okay, Gar-Gar. Fluttershy won’t think you’re soft for being a poet, and neither would anydragon who was your real friend.
(A long pause as Garble chews this over, followed by a shrug and deep sigh.)
Garble: ’Kay, fine. But I’m not a flowery namby-pamby poet! (Flluttershy has put the bongos aside.) I’m a beat poet. Dig?
Fluttershy: I totally feel you.
Garble: A-And you better not tell my friends about it!
Fluttershy: But why? (smiling) If I was a poet, I’d want to share my creations with everypony.
Smolder: I’m the only one Garble will perform for. He hasn’t written any poetry since I left. (patting Garble’s shoulder) That’s why he’s been so sad.
Garble: I need to create. But if the other dragons ever found out I like this junk, they’d make fun of me forever.
Fluttershy: Is that why you pick on Spike? To make your friends think you’re tough?
Smolder: Wait. (accusingly, to Garble) You’ve been picking on Spike?
Garble: Uh…only when you’re not looking. But if I didn’t pick on Spike, they’d just pick on me! And he is kind of a weakling.
(Fluttershy’s sudden flying lunge into his face, and her two-hooved grab at his jaw to turn his head so that he has no choice but to look her dead on, tell him that these were the absolute worst words he could have chosen.)
Fluttershy: (jabbing his chest) Hmph! I’ll have you know Spike is stronger than you are any day!
Garble: (pushing her back) Yeah, right. That little cupcake-making, blanket-cuddling pony-dragon? Ha! Gimme a break.
(Her first reaction is to gasp in shock; her second is to re-compose herself and shift to a whole new level of rancor.)
Fluttershy: What?! First of all, there’s nothing wrong with being a pony. Second, Spike isn’t afraid to be who he is, no matter what you—or anycreature thinks! That’s real strength, not like some dragons I know.
Smolder: (to Garble) For a pony without a horn, she’s sure got a point.
(Big brother slumps on his feet, seeing no way around this astute observation. On the start of the next line, zoom out quickly to frame Spike hovering nearby.)
Spike: I’ve been looking all over for you guys! We need your help! Hurry!
(He darts away, the other three lifting off and following. Wipe to a close-up of a dragon cutting loose with a jet of yellow fire, then cut to two others doing likewise; the next shot is of Brown, Orange, and Purple letting their flames wash over a clutch of eggs. A long shot of the hatchery frames a dozen or so dragons engaged in this task as Ember keeps an eye on them from a ledge. Fluttershy and company land beside her.)
Ember: I’ve ordered everydragon to warm up the eggs, but they still won’t hatch. I don’t know what else we can try.
Spike: (hovering) We can’t give up! (He drops to ground level.) There’s gotta be something we can do!
(On the start of the next line, zoom out to show Brown gesturing in his direction.)
Brown: How about we wrap the eggs in a bunch of baby bwankets? (He laughs, unloading a fresh yellow gout.)
Orange: (laughing) Yeah! The wimp can knit ’em up real quick-like!
(His malicious chuckle is marked by a little burst, then all three yukking it up and doing a little flame-throwing, high and low. Spike has to pop into a hover to avoid being crisped.)
Spike: Hey, watch it! That laugh-fire could burn somepony!
(The streams shift from yellow to pink as he says this. Garble crosses to the three tormentors and their victim and begins to think, seeing the vivid licks play through the air just above the eggs. A brainstorm occurs as the jets retract a bit and Spike lands nearby.)
Garble: (smiling, patting Spike’s head) Burn! Good idea, Spikey-wikey!
(Before the baby dragon can work a response through his muddled synapses, Garble has made a lightning-fast round trip to suit up in his beatnik outfit and grab his bongos. Laughs and burns stop dead at the sight, and he takes advantage of the distraction to tap away and spit some verse in his preferred delivery style.)
Garble: Eggs, come!
Burst into that light!
Break through shells that bind!
(Spike snaps in hep-cat fashion.)
Break free! Explore!
Stuck between rock and…haaaaaard place.
(Pause. Pan quickly from him and Spike to the three-dragon audience, who stare uncomprehendingly for a moment before laughing themselves stupid and letting go with blasts of pink fire. The effect begins to spread up and down the length of the hatchery; Garble is briefly taken aback at the reaction, but soon smiles and resumes his performance without Spike’s snapping.)
Garble: Freedom! Come! Don’t be shy.
Look those others in the eye.
(Pause. The chortles kick up anew, the accompanying laugh-fire shifting from pink to blue, and he pushes on.)
Garble: Stake your claim! Don’t stop, just do!
Be the one and only you.
(Here come Fluttershy on wing, and Ember and Smolder on foot, as he keeps at it on the bongos; one eggshell begins to fracture.)
Fluttershy: Spike, look! (Cracks spread across one after another.)
Spike: What? Huh? (laughing half-crazily) Their laugh-fire is so hot, it’s hatching the eggs!
Garble: Come to light! Proud to be!
Open up! Bam! Be! Free.
(He plays on, any shred of self-conscious hesitation gone, and the laugh-fire born of the dragons’ mirth continues to do its job. Shells part to reveal the babies inside—as varied in color and body type as the adults, and all looking very, very happy to be free at last. The dragons get themselves under control and cut their flames, and Garble stops drumming.)
Smolder: You did it, Gar-Gar! You performed in front of other dragons! (Cut to Orange and Purple.)
Orange: Heh. And it was super-lame! What kind of weakling writes poetry?
(A broad shadow falls over both of them, bringing a swift end to the japery. The source proves to be Ember, hovering above them and now holding the Bloodstone Scepter that is her badge of office.)
Ember: The hero of the Dragon Lands! (They drop into a hasty bow.) That’s who! (Tilt down to ground level.)
Smolder: Yeah! Garble saved our eggs because he was strong enough to be who he is, whether you liked it or not! I grew up thinking it was okay to make fun of differences, but my friends have taught me to celebrate them.
(Understanding nods and grunts ripple through the crowd as Ember rises higher above the hatchery.)
Ember: And from now on in my kingdom, that’s exactly what we will do. (to Garble, smiling) Now if you don’t mind, can you teach me how to write poetry like that? It’s pretty cool.
Garble: Uh…yeah, sure! Uh, no problem!
Orange: (crossing to him) Yeah, me too!
Brown: (ditto) I want to learn! (Purple joins them.)
Spike: Take a number, guys.
(Fluttershy rises above the hatchery floor, blue-green eyes gleaming and three newborns gathered into her forelegs.)
Fluttershy: I’ll take them all!
(She gives them a laughing, cooing nuzzle as the view fades to black.)
GOING TO SEED
Written by Dave Rapp
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to a long shot of Sweet Apple Acres at sunrise, then cut to a sleeping rooster on the roof of a chicken coop. He stirs himself to reluctant wakefulness with a yawn and crows for the start of the day; pan across the yard to the main barn and cut to a patch of kitchen floor, where Applejack sets down a food bowl loaded with pancakes. Her dog Winona is there in an instant to start chomping down the short stack, scattering crumbs all over the boards, and she turns her attention to the other three family members seated at the table. Both Apple Bloom and Big Macintosh are barely awake, the former sitting on a cushion and letting her chin clunk onto the table, the latter with a badly rumpled mane and a jug of blueberry syrup in his teeth, its contents starting to dribble out. Granny Smith, on the other hand, looks no worse for wear than she usually does. Applejack serves each one a plate of pancakes on the next line, slipping Macintosh’s into place just in time to catch the oozing syrup and lifting Bloom’s head back to slip hers under her chin. The blonde has traded her hat for one of the three breakfasts, and Granny digs in even before she finishes speaking.)
Applejack: I know we’ve had this day marked on the calendar for quite a while… (crossing kitchen) …but it’s finally here. (This last jolts Bloom and Macintosh.)
Macintosh: (spilling syrup on table) Ee-yup.
Bloom: Sure is.
Granny: What?
(Cut to Applejack, now standing near the door; one corner of a map of the grounds is visible on the wall behind her.)
Applejack: The Confluence—a harvest a hundred moons in the makin’, when every apple comes ripe at the same time.
(She gestures to the map on the next line, the camera zooming out to frame all of it—different orchard sections coded by the family members’ coat colors, with a legend at the bottom matching these up to the wearers’ cutie marks.)
Applejack: Big Mac’s been up late workin’ on this schedule so we can be sure not to miss a single tree. All it’ll take now is a few days of hard work. Who’s with me?
(Her eyes pop at hearing no response save a hearty snore; its source is Macintosh, who has dozed off and let the syrup run over both the tabletop and his pancakes, which are serving as a makeshift pillow.)
Bloom: (moaning, disheartened) That looks like a lotta work.
Granny: Aw, don’t you worry, chick-a-piddy. We got this Confluence under control. I got us some help!
Applejack: (crossing to table, donning hat) That’s great, Granny! Twilight and the others are too busy at the School to lend a hoof. We could sure use some more muscle. Who’d you get? (Bloom grins hopefully.) Braeburn? Honeycrisp?
Granny: (laughing, singsong) Even better!
(The orange-tan mare puzzles over this bit, only to be interrupted by a babel of muffled meowing and a knock at the door. It bursts open, revealing dozens of cats wedged into the frame and squirming to shove in; when they finally pop free, old Goldie Delicious stands at the threshold.)
Goldie: (waving) Well, howdy, y’all!
(One feline latches onto the back of Macintosh’s head and starts to use his mane as a scratching post, snapping him awake with a shout so that he and his pancakes tumble backwards to the floor. The jug of syrup has gone over sideways on the table. Goldie’s other pets have already spread throughout the kitchen.)
Goldie: (nodding) Mmm-hmm. Now that’s how you wake a pony up. (Bloom crosses to her.)
Bloom: Goldie Delicious! (The two embrace; Goldie pats the red mane.)
Goldie: Granny told me y’all could use a helpin’ hoof with this here Confluence, so I came a-runnin’. (Macintosh tries to yank the cat off his head, his face clean of syrup.)
Applejack: Well, with the harvest this big, we’re grateful for all the help we can get… (under her breath; Macintosh pulls it free) …I guess.
Macintosh: Ee-yup!
Goldie: It’s too bad y’all ain’t ever caught the Great Seedling. He’d-a granted you a perpetual harvest, Confluence or no.
(A burst of energy takes hold of the filly’s face, while the two elder siblings just laugh gently.)
Applejack: The Great Seedlin’? Well, now, I haven’t thought about that old mares’ tale for years.
Goldie: (needled) The Great Seedlin’ ain’t no mares’ tale! (reverently) He’s a magical earth spirit—
(On her second sentence, the camera tilts up slowly and stops on a thought bubble forming above her head, putting her out of view. A deer-like male creature bounds across within this, plants sprouting in his wake. The coat is layered, starting with pale gold around the legs/belly/haunches and darkening to orange at the head; leaves stand in place of the tail and ears, and other leaves and flowers are studded into the back and neck. The expansive antlers are heavy with leaves and fruits.)
Goldie: (from o.s.) —all the colors of the harvest— (Leap over one farm, then another, each instantly becoming thick with fruit-laden trees.) —that travels from farm to farm, daring ponies to catch him.
(The Great Seedling turns to the camera on this last, showing golden brown eyes, and becomes a hazy silhouette to evade a net swinging toward him. As Goldie continues, the view within the bubble fades to gold, then in to a tilt down to him bowing toward a stand of empty trees; Magic glows around the antlers, causing the boughs to swiftly bear an apple crop that remains even as the seasons cycle around them.)
Goldie: (from o.s.) And those that have the ingenuity are rewarded with crops that are always in bloom.
(The bubble pops to frame her, now plenty het up, and Bloom hanging on every word.)
Goldie: And he’s as real as you and me! (The filly grins broadly; cut to Applejack and Granny.)
Granny: As I’m up to recall, Apple Bloom used to love settin’ traps for the Great Seedlin’ when she was a young’un.
(She and Macintosh chuckle over this reminiscence; Applejack shoots them a brief dirty look, but comes out of it with a smile.)
Applejack: Well, I’m pretty sure she’s outgrown the whole thing by now. Right, Apple Bloom?
(No response; the only living things anywhere near Goldie are her cats. Elder and younger glance worriedly around the kitchen until Bloom’s voice cuts in; on the next line, cut to frame her in the doorway leading to the living room. She has slung up her saddlebags and miscellaneous supplies, including a butterfly net, and has put on a helmet covered with leaves and twigs for camouflage.)
Bloom: Or maybe I’m big enough now to finally catch him! (Zoom in quickly on her determined features.) Who’s with me?
(A half-crazed grin splits her face, bringing a sly smile to Goldie’s and a slightly weary “here we go again” expression to Applejack’s. Fade to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to the kitchen. One of the cats has gone to work on the pancakes Macintosh dropped. Beyond the window, the sky has advanced into morning.)
Applejack: (crossing to Bloom) Apple Bloom, you haven’t hunted for the Great Seedlin’ since you were little. Why would you want to start again now?
Bloom: The Confluence is so big! He’s bound to show up! And if we catch him, he’ll make all the apples ripe all the time! Right, Goldie? (Applejack scowls back at her…)
Goldie: (nodding) Mmm-hmm, that’s right, young filly. (…and rolls her eyes.)
Bloom: (shuddering happily, rearing up) Just imagine—Sweet Apple Acres would be the busiest orchard in Equestria! (trotting toward door) Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.
(The mare just boggles after the filly. Cut to the yard; the kitchen door opens so Bloom can make her exit, along with a cat or two.)
Applejack: (calling after her) Don’t forget, we have actual work to do too!
Goldie: Nothin’ like a little filly enjoyin’ the harvest, mmm-hmm.
Applejack: (to her, normal volume) I don’t mind Apple Bloom havin’ fun, but there’s honest-to-goodness work to do that doesn’t have a thing to do with an old legend.
Granny: (from inside) Oh, quit worryin’, sugar booger.
(Cut to her, having gathered up the breakfast dishes.)
Granny: (putting them in sink) Apple Bloom can hunt for the Seedling all she wants. (sternly) If you’re so frettified about work, why don’t you and your brother get to buckin’ your own selves? (Long pause; Macintosh has curled up with a cat and gone to sleep.)
Applejack: Granny’s right.
(She pulls the map off the wall, rolls it up, and turns to the conked-out stallion.)
Applejack: Come on, sleepyhead. (Macintosh begins to stir.) Let’s get to work.
Macintosh: (yawning, drowsily) Ee-yup.
(This is as far as he gets before dozing off again, but his feline sleeping buddy yanks itself loose of the great hooves and hops away, jostling him back to the real world and Applejack’s disapproving scowl. Dissolve to Bloom galloping downhill and along a path that threads through the orchards; she passes Applejack and Macintosh, both setting up baskets at the bases of trees and ready to get to the day’s tasks. Applejack is more than a little surprised to see her brother buck his tree hard enough to make it bend back and forth as if it were made of rubber, discharging enough fruit to fill his basket and then some. He grins and cocks an eyebrow smugly despite his still-disheveled appearance; she counters with a 360-degree spinning kick that allows her to strike three trees, then smirks as they each drop a basketful of apples. Now it is Macintosh’s turn to give her a nasty look, but both stop short at the sound of Granny’s distant laughter and look to the next hill over. Here they find the old green mare slowly pushing a basket into position with her head as Goldie gets set to buck.)
Granny: And if she had two of them, it would’ve been a pair of pears! (Both laugh.)
Goldie: Is that right?
(Hooves meet wood, the impact toppling her forward so that she lands on her back.)
Applejack: (to Macintosh) As much as I appreciate her volunteerin’, I’m not sure how much help Goldie’s gonna be.
Goldie: (now on haunches, wiping face with a handkerchief) Oh, now, that reminds me of the time Dottie—now that’s my cheetah, you understand— (Tuck it under her shawl.) —she found out where I keep the catnip!
(Granny bucks a few apples down on this line, then laughs with Goldie after its end.)
Bloom: I love hearin’ her and Granny spinnin’ yarns— (crossing to a tree with the map tacked up) —but it looks like the harvestin’s up to us. You’re gonna have to redo that schedule.
(This document has actually been updated from the version seen in the kitchen; the tracts have been reapportioned and a fifth color added—pale blue, corresponding to Goldie in the legend.)
Macintosh: (groaning) Ee-yup.
(Cut to Applejack, who spots Bloom at the edge of a clearing; the youngster has unloaded all her gear and is rigging up a cage to drop on an intruder from the branches of a tree.)
Applejack: And as much as I’d rather Apple Bloom were helpin’, I-I guess there’s no harm in her huntin’ the Great Seedlin’ for a day… (smiling uncertainly, glancing over shoulder) …right?
(Her good mood shifts to an exasperated scoff in record time.)
Applejack: Big Mac!
(Pan quickly to the hefty workhorse, who has gone to sleep with his head leaning against the map. He snaps awake, yelping and dropping the pencil in his teeth, and stumbles backward until one rear hoof lands squarely in the staked-down rope loop of a snare trap. It pops loose, dragging him clear of the ground to dangle upside down.)
Macintosh: Whaaa—! (Bloom pops up from a bush, holding her butterfly net.)
Bloom: GOTCHA!!
(Only after she has clapped the tool onto his nose does she realize that the whole thing is a bust.)
Bloom: Awww, you ain’t the Great Seedlin’.
Macintosh: Nope.
(Applejack claps a hoof to her forehead and drags it down her face. Wipe to a long shot of Sweet Apple Acres at sunrise of the following morning, then cut to the rooster perched on the chicken coop as he wakes and crows the start of the day. In the kitchen, Applejack pours pancake batter into a pan on the stove and sets aside the pitcher she has used to dispense it. The camera angle frames Goldie seated at one end of the table, already with a loaded plate.)
Applejack: We fell behind a bit yesterday— (flipping cake) —so we need everypony at their best.
(Cut to the table; Granny sits next to Goldie, munching into her own breakfast as the cat lover maneuvers her plate out of one pet’s reach. She glares at it, but fails to notice the one on her other side as it swipes one of her flapjacks.)
Goldie: (as Applejack brings a third plate in her teeth) If’n that’s your brother’s best, we might be done for, mmm-hmm.
(The first cat steals the rest of her meal undetected under these words, and Applejack turns to aim two puzzled green eye across the kitchen. Here comes Macintosh from the living room, looking just as much a frazzle as he did the day before and carrying the rolled-up map in his jaws. He has barely cleared the threshold when his legs tremble and give out, dumping him spreadeagle to the floor. Applejack crosses to him with a smile, having put down her plate.)
Applejack: (taking/unrolling map) Uh, he was just up late workin’ out a new schedule so we can stay on track.
(Revised once again, with quite a bit more red than before. Bloom gallops downstairs behind them on this line and bounds in to stand on Macintosh’s back, brimming with energy, as Applejack rolls up the sheet.)
Bloom: I didn’t sleep either! (trotting in place) I was too excited! I can’t wait to see if I caught the Great Seedlin’!
(She hops down and is out the door before either sibling can react; Goldie aims a smug smile at Applejack, who has stowed the map. Blue morning sky is now visible over the treetops.)
Applejack: I hope you’re ready to cheer Apple Bloom up when her traps come up empty. (A tense staredown.)
Bloom: (leaping back in) Everypony! Come quick! You gotta see!
(Old and young eyes trade thoroughly confounded glances as she bugs out again. Cut to Bloom topping a rise in the path; she stops dead and hops excitedly in place as the other four catch up.)
Applejack: What in blazes is all the excitement about?
Bloom: (pointing ahead) Look!
(Cut to just behind the sisters, framing a long overhead shot of a clearing just ahead, and zoom in slowly. Apples have been laid out on the grass to form a giant pattern of spirals and curlicues. The eyes of the other three female Apples pop wide open, Applejack uttering a stunned little neigh; Macintosh remains half-asleep.)
Bloom: The Great Seedlin’ did this, didn’t he?
Goldie: Well, braid my mane! (shading eyes, peering ahead) These sure look like Great Seedlin’ tracks to me!
Bloom: (jumping in place) Ha! I knew it! He was here! The Great Seedlin’ was here! (hugging/shaking Applejack) Isn’t that amazing, Applejack? (She gallops down toward the clearing.)
Applejack: (bewildered, scratching head) Yeah. Amazin’.
(Puzzlement slides into suspicion, in the form of a squinting glare aimed at Goldie from the corner of her eye. Zoom in slowly on the snickering old mare and fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to a long overhead shot of the meadow as the five step to its edge, Bloom taking the lead and gasping in awe.)
Bloom: Isn’t it beautiful? (Ground level.) I just can’t believe the Great Seedlin’ was really here!
Applejack: (dryly) Neither can I.
(The intrepid young hunter picks up an apple and holds it for Goldie’s consideration.)
Bloom: What do you think this means?
Goldie: (chuckling) Well, it looks to me like a challenge. (poking Bloom’s nose) The Seedling wants you to know that he was here— (Pan slowly back toward Granny as she ambles over.) —and he’s daring you to catch him, mmm-hmm.
(She adds a nod in time with this last.)
Bloom: You think I still have a chance?
Granny: (nudging her) You’re an Apple, ain’t you? (Wink.)
Goldie: Why, if you set enough traps, you’re bound to catch him.
Bloom: (tossing apple aside) You’re right! And that’s just what I’m gonna do! (rearing up) Look out, Great Seedlin’! Here I come!
(She gallops back up the path, giggling merrily every step of the way, and the two old mares add a little mirth of their own as Applejack and Macintosh get to work picking up the apples.)
Applejack: (to Granny/Goldie) Now why would you go and do a thing like that?
Goldie: A thing like what?
Applejack: You know what I mean! We got enough work to do without you distractin’ Apple Bloom by makin’ some apple tracks and pretendin’ the Great Seedlin’ did it.
Goldie: (gasping, affronted) I did no such thing!
Granny: What in the tater tarnation would make you say a thing like that?
Applejack: (advancing slowly on Goldie) Well, somepony did it—and she sure seems to be enjoyin’ this quite a lot.
Goldie: I’m enjoyin’ it because Apple Bloom’s enjoyin’ it!
Applejack: Uh-huh. (to Macintosh, Granny) And I suppose you two didn’t do it either?
Macintosh: (shaking head) Nn-nope!
Granny: O’course not! (smiling) But I s’pose it coulda been Goldie’s cats. Whyn’t you ask them?
(Pan quickly to three of the animals in question on the grass—one licking an apple, a second pouncing on a different one and rolling away with it, a third licking itself clean. The epitome of brilliant pranking they are not.)
Goldie: Have you considered that maybe it was the Great Seedlin’ after all? (She and Granny offer sly grins.)
Applejack: (sourly) Ha-ha. Very funny.
(She scoops up an apple, shooting the older generation a foul look, and stalks away.)
Granny: (to Goldie) I swear, sometimes I think she’s part mule.
(This gets a grin. Cut to just inside the doors of the main barn, one of which is open to frame Applejack walking up to deposit some recovered fruit in a waiting basket. The sight of random farming implements being flung across the barn gets her attention, as do the tin cans hanging by ropes from the lintel.)
Applejack: Apple Bloom?
(Pushing the noisemakers aside, she steps in only to get a net immediately dropped on her. The source of the commotion proves to be Bloom, who is rooting around in a crate at the far wall.)
Bloom: Do you know where there’s more rope? (pulling out a toy swordfish) I’ve got a lotta traps to make if I’m gonna catch the Great Seedlin’. (It goes flying over one shoulder; she jumps out.)
Applejack: That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. (Another crate gets a once-over.) I-I know you’re excited, but we sure could use your help today. Are you sure you want to spend time tryin’ to catch somethin’ that…might not even be real? (She cringes as Bloom straightens up from her rummaging.)
Bloom: What? But the Great Seedlin’ is real. You saw the tracks. You think those appeared all by themselves?
Applejack: I don’t know who made the tracks, but I don’t think it was the Great Seedlin’.
Bloom: Why not?
(The blonde pulls her hat off and holds it to her chest.)
Applejack: Because the Great Seedlin’ is just somethin’ to make the harvest fun for young’uns. (putting it on) And you’re old enough now to know that there’s a time for fun and there’s a time for work.
Bloom: But catchin’ the Great Seedlin’ is helpin’! He can make the trees blossom all the time!
Applejack: (sighing) All right, how ’bout this? (smiling, poking Bloom’s nose) If you help me with the harvest today, I’ll help you set traps for the Great Seedlin’ tonight. (extending a hoof) Deal?
Bloom: (jumping in place, shaking it vigorously, hugging Applejack) Woo-hoo! Yes! It’s a deal!
(Big sister returns the hug before the view dissolves to a slow pan through the orchards at treetop level. One tree vibrates and drops its load of apples, the result of an effective buck; down below, Macintosh uses his head to bulldoze a barrel of apples onto a waiting cart as Goldie nips up a loose one and adds it to a barrel in which one of her cats is sitting. A paw casually bats it away, then does the same with the next one she drops in, to Macintosh’s visible surprise. Two yellow hind legs rise in the fore, delivering a series of bucks to the nearest trunk and slowly filling a basket, and Applejack loses a few apples from the one she is pushing. Here comes Bloom with hers.)
Applejack: (slyly, just a bit mockingly) Kinda looks like those Seedlin’ tracks, huh?
Bloom: (sardonically) Sure—if there were hundreds of apples in a bunch of different lines.
Applejack: Well, if enough apples fell or got knocked down, by the wind, maybe…
(A cat jumps across the grass, scattering the fallen apples even further; now Goldie crosses to the pair.)
Applejack: …or animals. (Both spectators regard her skeptically.) I’m just sayin’ there’s a lotta possible explanations.
Goldie: (wiping face with handkerchief, winking to Bloom) And one of them is the Great Seedlin’!
(Underscored with a nudge that brings a big grin to the young face, but Applejack finds it not a whit amusing as she zips closer. Goldie has stashed the hanky by this point.)
Applejack: (stomping) And the rest of ’em ain’t! (They glare daggers at each other while Granny steps up.)
Granny: That ain’t what you thought when you was a foal. (The angry eyes pop wide open at this revelation.)
Bloom: (crossing to Granny) What does that mean?
Granny: Your sister was plumb loco about catchin’ the Great Seedling when she was your age, same as you are now. (under her breath) Worse, even.
Goldie: (glancing at Applejack, pointedly) Oh! Is that so? Do tell, Granny.
(The green eyes in the orange-tan face roll disgustedly. Cut to Bloom and Granny, the former plunking her haunches on the turf, and zoom in slowly.)
Granny: (to Bloom, sitting) Well, now, it musta been the last Conflu-inky, I reckon. I was a-s’posed to keep an eye on your sister, but she was slipperier than an apple seed.
(The last few words are delivered in voice over as the view undergoes a wavering dissolve to the barnyard. A school-aged Applejack gallops out of the barn, not yet having earned her cutie mark or started to wear her hat, and is gone out the main gate as a younger Granny calls after her. The colors in this flashback are slightly washed out, and the view is faintly ringed with white. It is daytime.)
Younger GS: Applejack! Get your flank back here! You’re s’posed to be sortin’ in the barn!
Filly AJ: (calling back to her) Sorry, Granny! I gotta check my traps or the Great Seedlin’ might get away!
(She moves from one tree to the next to look over the devices she has installed—snare, suspended cage, tin-can alarm, and so on. Finding a whole lot of nothing, she pushes through a clump of bushes; tilt up slightly to put the ground out of view.)
Filly AJ: Now where’d I put that trap? (The snap of a twig stops her cold; she gasps softly.) Wh-Wh-Whoa!
(She plummets o.s. in a spray of leaves, a grunt and thud floating up; Younger GS walks by, annoyance writ large on her face.)
Younger GS: Bust my buds, where’s that young’un get to?
(The camera zooms out slightly and angles itself downward to provide an answer, in the form of a pit whose branch/leaf cover has given way under Filly AJ’s weight. Cut to her lying at the bottom, mane/tail disheveled and matted with bits of plant matter; she rises to her haunches and looks worriedly around herself, then up at the surface—well out of her reach.)
Granny: (voice over, laughing) She spent the better half of the day stuck in that trap!
(Cut to Macintosh’s young self standing at the unhooked harness of a cart filled with apples. Bright Macintosh, father of him, Applejack, and Bloom—see “The Perfect Pear” for more details—removes the hitching collar from his own neck and drops it around his son’s. Needless to say, it is a few sizes too big for the time being.)
Applejack: (voice over) And missed out on helpin’ with the harvest because I was chasin’ somethin’ for little foals.
(Bright connects the harness to the collar. On the next line, Colt BM strains to get the cart moving and Pear Butter—mother to the three younger Apples—passes in the fore, a loaded basket held by its handle in her teeth and toddler Bloom riding in one on her back as she sucks on an apple.)
Applejack: (voice over) I felt guilty everypony else had to work harder because of me.
(Behind the curly orange tail, the view wipes to a close-up of a downhearted Filly AJ, a few tears spilling down her cheeks. During the next line, she wipes her eyes and glares up toward the surface, her expression hardening into bitter resolve.)
Applejack: (voice over) So I decided right then and there, I was too old to waste any more time on the Great Seedlin’.
(Wavering dissolve to her in the present; on the next line, cut to Granny and a suddenly pensive Bloom.)
Granny: Oh, we finished the harvest just fine— (giggling) —but we laughed about that story for years!
(Her laugh is answered by one from Goldie.)
Goldie: (walking away) I’m still laughin’.
Bloom: (crossing to Applejack) I’m sorry that happened, Applejack, but…it won’t if you and me set traps together like you promised. (Touch big sister’s chest; drop to haunches and smile.) Plus we’ll get ’em done twice as fast and won’t miss out on any of the harvest.
(She puts her front hooves together and slaps on her best “pretty please?” grin, prompting a smile from Applejack.)
Applejack: Then let’s get to work.
(Bloom pops to all fours with a grinning gasp and lays a high-wattage hug on her sister before the two get moving. Wipe to a close-up of Bloom setting a stake in the ground with her mouth and giving it a hoof tap to secure it. Her next move is to bite the end of a rope, pull it toward the stake, and tie it off. A longer shot frames the trap in full as a cage made of branches and hanging from a tree branch, connected to the tightened rope and ready to fall if the stake is disturbed. Applejack has her map out and, after a bit of concerned study, rolls/stows it so she can turn her attention to the rig. Bloom gives the rope an experimental twang to check the tension, only to have it snap and drop the cage toward her. Here comes Applejack in a mighty leap to shield her; both end up penned in by the trap, along with two loads of apples that get dumped out of the baskets when the cage knocks against them on the way down. Both equine heads break through to daylight, the younger face grinning sheepishly under the older one’s glare.)
(A rustle of leaves fills the screen to hide them from view, and a zoom out frames these as a patch being laid out on an open stretch by Bloom. Applejack sneaks a moment to buck a tree while her attention is diverted, but the eyes of both are drawn by a commotion in the bushes. Here come several of Goldie’s cats, chased by Winona; the felines pass over the leafy spot easily, but the pursuer plunges through with a yelp and into the pit trap it was concealing. Winona peeks up, smiling and panting, and once again Bloom offers an apologetic grin in response to the irked green eyes. The cats peek in over the edge, as if to add insult to injury.)
(The boughs of an apple tree swing past the camera; behind them, the view wipes to a rope dangling from a slender trunk. Bloom wraps hooves around this and pulls, bending the upper end of the wood double so she can tie off the rope and stake down a loop for a snare. She jumps clear and hunches down behind a nearby tree to watch as Applejack shoves a tub of apples onto a cart; once this job is done, the mare joins the filly in her hiding place and both peek out to watch what develops. Granny and Goldie wander past, causing visible consternation for both sisters, but the elders each step through the loop without setting off the trap. Bloom, relieved, wipes sweat from her forehead as they clear the area—but the sound of lashing rope and a hard thud snap her back to the moment. She and Applejack wheel toward the device only to discover that Macintosh has fallen victim to it, hanging upside down by one hind leg and not looking all happy about the change of orientation. Winona races up, panting happily, and Applejack and Bloom break into gales of laughter strong enough to send them to their backs.)
(Dissolve to a slow pan through another tract of trees as the sisters place a new series of variously configured devices. As each one is set, they fade away from its location and appear elsewhere to install the next one. After several iterations, another dissolve puts them at a fence; Bloom sits laughing on one rail as Applejack finishes stringing up a set of tin cans. The sky has darkened to evening.)
Bloom: It sure was fun settin’ up all those traps together.
Applejack: (chuckling) I forgot what a good time it could be. (walking away) If any two ponies can catch the Great Seedlin’, it’s us. (Bloom climbs down and catches up.)
Bloom: I can’t wait to check in the mornin’.
Applejack: Now there’s still plenty of harvestin’ to do, so promise me you’ll help, even if all our traps are empty. (They stop at the main gate, a rope net bundled at its top.)
Bloom: I promise… (Wink.) …so long as you’re ready for the bountiful harvest the Great Seedlin’s gonna give us when one of our traps nab him.
Applejack: (chuckling, offering a hoof) Deal!
(Bloom hops up to thump one of hers against it and gallops for the barn, while Applejack hangs back for a moment to grab a strand in her teeth and pull. The net unfurls as a curtain to block the passage. As they hurry inside, a long overhead shot of the barn and surrounding fields points up just how far they have gone in their efforts to Seedling-proof the whole place. A slow dissolve turns night into morning of the following day, and the rooster goes into his routine as before; now, though, he has barely enough time to start crowing before a great tremor shakes the grounds and drops him to his rump. Frantic panting is heard from both Applejack and Bloom as the camera cuts to them pelting toward the gate and leaping through the net, Applejack with saddlebags on back and rolled map in teeth.)
Bloom: Come on, Applejack! If we hurry, we can check every trap and still stay on schedule!
(They slow to a walk, approaching a litter of apples on the path, and Applejack puts the map in her bags.)
Applejack: Now that’s what I like to he—
(She cuts herself off abruptly as Bloom breaks into an enormous grin and the camera cuts to just behind them. The fruits have been placed to form a meandering trail that descends the downhill run before them and joins a vast network of loops and whorls in the meadow at its base. The display is similar to the one found by the group at the end of Act One, but on a much greater scale, and a second variation has even been placed on the next hill out.)
Applejack: Whoa. (Long gasp from Bloom.)
Bloom: I don’t believe it!
(She races ahead as Applejack shakes some sense back into her own head. An exhausted, pancake-chewing Macintosh trudges up, pulling a wagon with Granny, Goldie, and a few cats on the latter’s head as passengers.)
Goldie: (shading eyes, peering ahead) This must’ve taken all night! (Granny smacks Macintosh; he stops and snaps awake, swallowing the food.)
Macintosh: Ee-yup.
Bloom: (from below hilltop, hidden from view) Nothin’! (She gallops up to Applejack.)
Applejack: Huh?
Bloom: I checked all the traps near the tracks. (Drop to haunches.) Every one was sprung, but they’re all empty! (She pouts, propping chin on front hooves.)
Applejack: Every trap sprung? (pacing ahead) No way critters did this, or the wind. (Bloom stands up.) I-I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but… (beaming) …maybe the Great Seedling really was here!
(The beam takes root on the yellow face, and the view fades to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the five Apples. Granny and Goldie are out of the wagon, and the cats are still perched firmly on Goldie’s head; Macintosh has fallen asleep again. Zoom in slowly.)
Goldie: So, you’re finally ready to admit the Great Seedling might be real?
Applejack: I can’t think of anything else that coulda laid out these tracks and sprung all our traps.
Bloom: And if he left this many tracks behind, he’s practically beggin’ us to catch him! (Goldie brushes off her cats.)
Granny: I ain’t never seen anything like this before. (Applejack leans excitedly toward her.)
Applejack: Well, tell us what you have seen! Goldie, you too. We need to know it all if we’re really gonna catch him.
Granny: Sure. (She and Goldie move past.) Goldie and I’ll tell you all about the Great Seedling all day— (Pause; pivot sternly back to Applejack.) —while we work. (Move on.)
Applejack: (floored) Work? Apple Bloom and I don’t have time to work today! We’ve gotta set up traps in every row, even the carrots, just to be sure!
(Now it is Bloom’s turn to register worry, poking Applejack to get her attention.)
Bloom: Yesterday you said the Great Seedlin’ was just somethin’ to make the harvest fun for young’uns.
Applejack: That was before I thought we could actually catch him!
(She grins with just the faintest touch of madness, lower lip caught in teeth, as Macintosh tiredly drags the wagon past them along the path.)
Applejack: Besides… (He voices a cavernous yawn.) …Big Mac can make time in the schedule for us to set traps, right? (He stops short.)
Macintosh: Uh…y-yup? (Shaky grin.)
Applejack: Great! (She nips the map out of her bags and tosses it to him.) Get to it! (galloping ahead with Bloom, brushing past Granny/Goldie) Apple Bloom and I are gonna go capture us the Great Seedlin’!
(These two start moving, annoyed by the lack of courtesy. Wipe to a stretch of loaded trees, against which the unfurled map is lifted into view. With the exception of one small corner split between Granny and Goldie, all of the territory needing attention has been assigned to Macintosh. Cut to a head-on view of him, no longer harnessed to his wagon and studying the page; he lowers it with a depressed sigh and clomps off into the trees. The broad hooves impact trunk after trunk in singles and pairs, bringing down showers of apples, but he just continues on mechanically without stopping to gather them up. He begins to cross off map sectors with a mouth-held pencil, then head-pushes a full barrel into his wagon and wipes his forehead with a heavy sigh. Another spot on the map gets scratched off, a bit more slowly this time.)
(Treetop-level view of the orchard, one cluster of branches after another shaking and dropping apples to mark Macintosh’s continued bucking. His next use of the pencil is considerably slower and more labored—the job is now really wearing him down—and he bucks a tree but gets only a few loose leaves for his trouble. Sleep-deprived green eyes stare wonderingly up into the branches, spotting not a single apple hanging from them, and a glance across the hills informs him that every tree in sight is bare. However, several areas on the map have not yet been crossed off as finished, leaving him with quite the conundrum on his hooves. A bark from Winona precedes her arrival along with Applejack and Bloom, the mare longer wearing her saddlebags.)
Applejack: (to Bloom, wiping forehead) Whoo! All right. Just one more hill to go!
Bloom: What’s wrong, Big Mac? (Applejack checks the map.)
Applejack: Huh. Is this right?
Macintosh: (firmly) Ee-yup! (He trudges away.)
Applejack: But that doesn’t make any sense. How can all these trees be bare if we haven’t bucked ’em yet? (Goldie speaks up from the wagon, having climbed aboard.)
Goldie: Seems like more work of the Great Seedlin’ to me. (Applejack and Bloom grin.)
Bloom: (as both cross to her) How do you mean?
(Using her cranium, Granny slowly loads a filled barrel onto the vehicle.)
Goldie: Well, closer you get to catchin’ the critter, the more mischievous it gets.
Applejack: You’re sayin’ the Great Seedlin’ is takin’ our apples?
Granny: Yes. Sounds like he’s fixin’ to throw you off the scent.
(Gravity takes advantage of her momentary distraction and sets the container tumbling down the lowered tailgate, emptying both apples and cats onto the grass.)
Applejack: Have you ever heard of anypony actually catchin’ him?
Goldie: (knowingly) Ohhhh, there are stories, but it’s hard to say for sure. He’s quite the trickster. Guess that’s why the reward is so great if you can trap him.
(Macintosh slogs past, map in hoof and a jumbo-size scowl distorting his face.)
Applejack: Well, his tricks have given me an idea. Settin’ traps is one thing, but I reckon if we keep watch over the trees that haven’t been bucked, the Seedlin’ won’t know what hit him!
Bloom: That’s a great idea! Anypony else want to stay up with us?
Granny: (walking away, waving) Eh, an old pony like me needs her beauty rest, but you young’uns have a good time.
Goldie: (descending wagon tailgate) My kitties can’t sleep unless they’re curled up on my haunches. (Chuckle, head out after Granny.) But I can’t wait to see the Great Seedlin’ with my own eyes once you catch him.
Applejack: (to Bloom) Guess it’s just you and me.
(Yellow and orange-tan hooves sprint off together as Macintosh shoots an exasperated glare after them between checks of the trees and the map. Deciding at last that enough is too much, he rips a corner away in his teeth, spits it out while throwing the scraps aside, and turns back to what has become a one-pony job.)
(Dissolve to the barnyard and its plethora of intrusion counter-measures, seen from a nearby hilltop through a pair of binoculars. Night has come. The view pans quickly to a row of chicken coops, then a different portion of the yard, after which the lenses are lowered and the camera zooms out to put Applejack in view holding them. She has traded her hat for a leaf/branch-covered helmet similar to the one Bloom wore in the prologue. On the start of the next line, cut to a longer, head-on shot of her and Bloom. They are up on an observation platform built in a tree, both wearing helmets, and Bloom has settled into a sleeping bag.)
Bloom: Too bad nopony else wants to come out, but I’m glad we’re doin’ this together.
Applejack: (chuckling softly, setting binoculars aside) Me too. It’s been a long time since I was on a real Seedlin’ hunt, and this is the first time doin’ it with my little sister. (She gently pokes Bloom.)
Bloom: (yawning) When did you start tryin’ to catch the Great Seedlin’? (Cut to Applejack.)
Applejack: I couldn’t have been much more than a foal. I remember our parents tuckin’ Big Mac and me in and tellin’ us all about the Great Seedlin’. I got so excited, I could barely sleep. So I—
(The sound of youthful snoring snaps her out of the happy memory, and she looks over to find that Bloom is out like a light.)
Applejack: (softly, tucking bag edges in around her) Don’t you worry, sugar cube. I won’t let him get away.
(She picks up the binoculars and begins to sweep the area—but a cut to a later hour, as seen by the sudden darkening of the sky, leaves her sprawled out and snoring alongside Bloom. A little runnel of drool hangs from her open mouth, and the optical instrument dangles by its strap from one foreleg. A clatter of branches causes Bloom to snap awake and sit up.)
Bloom: Huh?
(Peering out over the orchards, she is rewarded with the sight of trees losing their apples. Her next two lines are delivered in hushed tones.)
Bloom: (shaking Applejack) Applejack! Wake up! (Green eyes pop open; binocs fall off the platform.)
Applejack: Huh? (rubbing eyes) W-What is it?
Bloom: I think a trap went off! (She points fearfully at the denuded trees.)
Applejack: Well, let’s go check it out!
(In seconds, both are down off their platform and keeping low as they ease across the grass. Pan slowly to follow them; now both keep their voices down for the next four lines.)
Applejack: See anything?
Bloom: (shaking head) Mmm-mmm.
Applejack: Don’t scare him off. We gotta lead him into one of the traps.
Bloom: (whimpering) I’m not worried about scarin’ him.
(Neither one spots a silhouette galloping across the path behind them and stirring up quite a bit of dust. The coat and tail bristle with leaves and twigs, two fruit-laden antlers stand up from the head and no facial features can be discerned except for a pair of glowing, red-orange eyes without pupil or iris. Applejack and Bloom advance cautiously through the trees, but stop cold at the sound of a breaking twig; Applejack indicates the direction with a nervous grin, and both dash off that way. Taking cover behind a clump of bushes, they risk a glance over the leaves and get a good look at the intruder galloping by in the distance. Applejack grins, chewing her lower lip in anticipation, but Bloom shivers as if she might jump clean out of her skin at any moment. The silhouette bucks a tree…excitement and fear ratchet up a notch in the two sisters…and then a rattle of tin cans draws their focus to a string of them hung between two trees. Now the figure looms forebodingly up behind them, an apple dropping free to bounce off Bloom’s helmet. She looks down at it, puzzled, then up to get her first clear view of the new arrival—and brain-eating terror takes hold in one awful instant.)
Bloom: I THINK THE GREAT SEEDLIN’S HUNTIN’ US!! (She peels out screaming; it gives chase.)
Applejack: Apple Bloom! Wait!
(She too hits the gas; up ahead, Bloom bobs and weaves and ducks to avoid one trap after another, but trips a snare and is yanked up and o.s. Her helmet falls to the ground, the only trace that Applejack can find when she gallops up and stops for a frantic look around.)
Applejack: Huh?
(Zoom out to frame the whimpering filly dangling by a foreleg. Applejack starts to the job of freeing her.)
Bloom: APPLEJAAACK!!
(Applejack gasps as her eyes follow her sister’s across the orchard and lock onto the emerging inky figure. Both scream, Applejack’s helmet falling off, and Bloom drops out of the snare and onto Applejack’s back for a high-speed escape. The pursuer keeps pace easily, bumping into trees and bringing down their apples without almost no effort, and Applejack slides to a stop upon reaching the main barn’s barred double doors. Bloom jumps clear and watches as her sister struggles to wrench the hefty wooden plank from its supports; the effort yields no results, though, and both can only stare aghast at the approaching beast. The rope net strung at the gate poses no obstacle, tearing loose and tangling in the expansive antlers. Applejack and Bloom are reduced to clutching at each other and trembling in mutual abject fear, certain that the end has come—and then the thing steps into full light for the first time. The “Seedling” is actually a sleepwalking Macintosh with dirt and hay matted onto all four hooves and wearing an apple-patterned nightcap. Draped across his back is a piece of lattice paneling, held in place by the ropes looped across his chest; leaves/twigs are stuck in this and his tail, and the “antlers” are actually long branches caught in the nightcap.)
Applejack, Bloom: BIG MAC?!?!?
Applejack: He’s been harvestin’ in his sleep this whole time!
Bloom: Big Mac is the Great Seedlin’?!?
(This exclamation kicks the big lug to full wakefulness. He stumbles forward with a shout, one hoof coming down on a skateboard that launches him into a sequence of traps laid out across the farmyard. The last of these is a concealed pit; cut to several yards down, the camera aimed toward the sky, as the other two peek in.)
Applejack: (echoing slightly) Y-You okay, Big Mac? (He straightens up to glare at them.)
Macintosh: Nn-nope.
(But he still comes around to a smile in response to their laughter at this very long string of misadventures. Dissolve to a long shot of the grounds and zoom in slowly; it is now the following day, and all five Apples have gathered in the yard. The barn doors stand open, framing the multitude of full apple barrels beyond and around them.)
Applejack: And thanks to all of Big Mac’s late-night work—
(Close-up; Granny and Goldie sit in rocking chairs, and Macintosh is properly rested and groomed for the first time this episode. Applejack has recovered and donned her hat, and Winona is with the group.)
Applejack: —we brought in the whole harvest with time to spare.
Goldie: (to Macintosh) No wonder you were so tired all the time. (Close-up of Macintosh.)
Macintosh: Ee-yup. (Pan to Bloom on the next line.)
Bloom: I’m glad we solved the mystery, but…I really wanted to catch the Great Seedlin’ before I get too old to try.
Applejack: (crossing to her) You know what, sugar cube? (ruffling her mane) You’re never too old to be a filly. There will always be work to do, but havin’ fun together is somethin’ you never grow out of.
(Grins from all three siblings. Cats pop out from the barrels stacked behind Winona, then duck away before she can swivel her head around toward them, then pop out again once the bewildered pooch turns to face front.)
Goldie: (standing, stretching, crossing to Applejack/Bloom/Macintosh) Well, looks like you don’t need me no more. Time to get home before Dottie gets in the catnip again. I have stories about that, I’ll tell you what.
Applejack: (chuckling, hugging her) We’re real glad you came, Goldie.
Bloom: Sure are! (hugging her) Come back next year!
(Taking a few steps away, the elderly mare uncorks a shrill whistle and produces a shopping bag from her mane. All the cats charge across in a surge of meowing and fur and pack themselves neatly into the container, and she gets the handles in her teeth and starts for the gate. However, a couple of loose carrots on the hard-packed earth bring her up short; she lets the bag drop.)
Goldie: Oh! Looks like you forgot to clean up the carrots.
(Zoom out quickly to show quite a few more of these root vegetables littering the yard in an irregular line. Applejack and Bloom gallop up for a closer look as Goldie lifts her bag and ambles away.)
Applejack: Huh. Big Mac wasn’t harvestin’ the carrots, just the apples.
(They throw him a questioning glance, but get only a puzzled grunt and shrug in reply. Cut to an overhead shot of one field and zoom out slowly, framing carrots laid out in the same grand designs as the apples in Act Two. Applejack and Bloom boggle openmouthed at the sight, but shift to big ecstatic grins in a hurry.)
Applejack: You know what this means?
Bloom: Time for another hunt! (They break into a gallop toward the camera.)
Applejack: Look out, Great Seedlin’! Here we come!
(All eight legs leave the ground in a joyous double leap, their speed rapidly decreasing to leave them caught in a midair freeze frame. “Iris out” to black, the aperture shaped like an apple.)
STUDENT COUNSEL
Written by Josh Haber
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to an expanse of meadowland outside Ponyville proper during the day. Starlight Glimmer and Trixie walk leisurely up a hill and into view, the former wearing a blue-green bracelet on one foreleg and the latter without her trademark hat and cape.)
Trixie: I know how hard you’ve been working lately—
(They approach the hilltop, where an afternoon teatime spread has been set up on a picnic blanket.)
Trixie: —so I figured you could use a break.
(Close-up of the goodies as she steps up to the edge; pan/tilt up slightly to frame both in time with Starlight’s delighted gasp, leaving their hooves just out of view.)
Starlight: Trixie, this looks amazing! But my job doesn’t really seem like work.
(A tiny, tinny chiming sound asserts itself; she lifts her leg to find that her bracelet is blinking and sounding off.)
Starlight: Oh! Speaking of…
(She is gone in a flash of teleportation, leaving the blue unicorn to boggle at the departure and sigh wearily as she seats herself on the blanket. Exerting her aura over the various components of the tea set, she pours two cups and sets out one of them for Starlight along with a sandwich on a plate. A flash of annoyance gives way to blowing on her own tea to cool it and taking a sip, and Starlight returns as quickly as she left.)
Starlight: Sure, being counselor for the students at Twilight’s School of Friendship is demanding, but— (The bracelet pings again.) —oh. One sec.
(Away she goes with a big apologetic grin; the still-miffed Trixie sips from her cup and stirs in some sugar cubes before she pops back in.)
Starlight: What was I saying? (Flat stare from Trixie.) Oh, right. (She sits.) Being able to use the experiences of my checkered past to help young students feels pretty great. (She levitates the sandwich off her plate on the end of this.) Oh, yum!
(A hearty bite, and the rest is set down.)
Starlight: (mouth full) Mmm, thanks. (Cut to Trixie.)
Trixie: (stirring tea, gesturing with spoon) Of course, I feel nothing but admiration for the work you do, but it is a little all-consuming, and I miss spending time with you. (Zoom out to frame Starlight, having swallowed.)
Starlight: What are you talking about? We’re spending time right now.
Trixie: (slightly irritated) Well…
(The counselor has barely enough time to float up her sandwich, take another bite, and wipe crumbs from her mouth before the new accessory does its bit once more.)
Starlight: (mouth full) Mmm—hold that thought.
(This time, Trixie gives voice to a frustrated little growl and chomps down a whole sandwich after she zaps away. The snack is still being savagely chewed over when Starlight returns with a contented sigh, her mouth empty.)
Starlight: Sorry. I cast a spell on the door to my office— (lifting foreleg with bracelet) —so this bracelet goes off whenever there’s a knock. Yona is having the worst time with her braids lately.
(Her field lifts the cup and saucer prepared for her so she can have a sip of tea, then balances them both on one hoof.)
Starlight: Anyway, you were saying?
(The traveling magician answers by bringing up her own setting, guzzling the tea, and setting the cup pointedly on its saucer—all while showing off a world-class scowl. Starlight offers a weak laugh and grin, nearly sloshing the rest of her tea onto the blanket, and the view fades to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to the exterior of the School of Friendship, zooming in slowly, then cut to Starlight seated at the desk in her office. She grins shakily as Silverstream paces behind the couch.)
Silverstream: I totally respect my younger cousins’ decisions to stay sea ponies— (hovering) —but they’ve never been on dry land! (Cut to Starlight; she continues o.s.) Preparing for a visit with them is almost as much work as the research assignment Headmare Twilight gave me on hazardous fauna of the Everfree Forest!
(On the second half of this last sentence, Starlight tilts her head to one side and the camera cuts to her perspective of the young hippogriff settling onto the cushions and pans to the open office doors. Quite a few students have lined up in the corridor and are anxiously waiting their turn. Now Silverstream brings out a quill and notepad.)
Silverstream: How would you describe a shower to creatures who live in water? (Starlight’s attention snaps back to her.) So far I’ve got “warm” and “steamy”—actually, steam has water in it.
Starlight: (leaving seat, circling to couch) Silverstream, there are a lot of students who want to see me today. (Silverstream gets off the couch.)
Silverstream: I just need a few shower adjectives that don’t rely on the wet part.
Starlight: (sighing) Well, there’s “clean,” “relaxing,” um… (She paces as Silverstream starts writing.)
Silverstream: “Relaxing.” I don’t know—a nap’s relaxing too. “Warm” and “clean” are okay. Wow. I have to give this some more thought.
(This little puzzler occupies her mind to the point that she does not notice Starlight ushering her out of the office until she has passed the threshold.)
Starlight: Oh! Okay. Well, I’m here to help. (waving) My door’s always open.
(She smiles at the next pony in line, a unicorn colt, and gestures for him to follow her in, but a magic field wraps itself around every inch of him and hauls sharply backward.)
Trixie: (trotting in after Starlight) Except for today, of course.
(The hapless student scrambles up and toward the doors, only to have them slam shut in his face. He gives a crushed little whimper before the camera cuts to the two mares inside.)
Trixie: (excitedly) If we leave now, we can finish everything before sundown.
Starlight: Trixie, I-I can’t leave! It’s almost spring break. (returning to sit at desk, as Trixie glares) Twilight and the others have already left to celebrate the Spring Solstice in Canterlot, and I have to help the students with any issues before they head home for the holiday.
(Her bracelet chimes in time with a knock at the closed doors, one of which opens so the snubbed student can put his head in with a hopeful smile. Trixie just shoots him a nasty look and telekinetically shoves it closed, pushing him back into the corridor, and the bangle goes quiet.)
Trixie: (smiling, crossing office) I know you’re busy, but I hope you haven’t forgotten about the Spring Sols-Tastic!
(Happy singsong on these last two words; Starlight’s only reply is an utterly bewildered blink.)
Trixie: (dryly) The party Maud and Mudbriar are throwing? (Starlight averts her eyes guiltily.) Sunburst is coming to town? (Uneasy tap of hoof on hoof.) You and I promised to make the cake?
(Only now does Starlight snap back to herself with a grin that is just a touch too casual.)
Starlight: Oh, pffft! How could I possibly forget about that?
(Another knock, another ping and blink from the bracelet, and the twice-thwarted colt opens a door and fearfully slips his head in. The borderline-rabid growl that Trixie sends his way is all the impetus he needs to cautiously withdraw and pull the door shut behind himself. Starlight’s magical summons goes quiet again at his exit. Dissolve to her and Trixie walking down a Ponyville street, saddlebags on backs and Trixie still looking rather out of sorts.)
Trixie: Nopony is saying your job isn’t important, but plans you make with your friends are important too.
Starlight: (sighing) I-I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forgotten. Obviously I need to be available to my students— (Trixie grimaces and rolls her eyes.) —but that doesn’t mean I can’t help with all the things we have to do.
Trixie: Good! (Both stop.)
Starlight: Great! (Pause.) So…what are all the things we have to do?
Trixie: Hmph!
(She magically pops the flap on one bag, extracts a scroll, and unrolls it for a quick read.)
Trixie: (pacing ahead; Starlight follows) Maud needs streamers for the decorations, Sunburst wants us to pick up a genuine pre-Equestrian Spring Solstice chafing dish from the antique shop…
Starlight: (dryly) Of course he does.
Trixie: …Mudbriar wants a bouquet of flowering sticks, whatever that means, and I thought we were both looking forward to Mrs. Cake teaching us the secret recipe to her famous Spring Solstice Cake. (She glares daggers at Starlight.)
Starlight: Oh! I-I totally am. (Chuckle.) Buuuuut we could just buy a cake from her, right?
(The purple eyes shrink to infuriated points as both stop and the owner turns to face the dessert heretic, having put the list away.)
Trixie: (with slowly growing anger) We could, but then we’d miss out on baking together. (pacing) Plus the time I spent flattering and convincing and begging her to share the recipe would be for nothing. (Stomp on this last word, then advance on Starlight.) And we promised to make a cake, not buy a cake, and the Great and Powerful Trixie keeps her promises!
(These last three words are delivered at point-blank range and one notch short of a full screech; Starlight slaps on a rattled grin.)
Starlight: Okay! (patting Trixie’s shoulder, magically pulling/opening list, pacing) Why don’t we just split up these jobs? I’ll get the streamers and the chafing dish, you…
(This is as far as she gets before her jewelry issues a summons.)
Starlight: (hastily, passing list to Trixie) …get started on those sticks, and I’ll be right back.
(Finding herself on the receiving end of a glare that could burn through a foot of granite, she offers an embarrassed chuckle and rolls up the sheet.)
Starlight: (sliding it into her bag) You know, why don’t I just hang on to this? Wouldn’t want to forget the things I just said I’d take care of. Because I am totally gonna take care of them.
(She teleports away, leaving one thoroughly unconvinced and scowling unicorn alone in the street. Dissolve to a long shot of Rose leading Trixie past the display benches set up outside the village flower shop, then cut to the former mare scooping a hoof-load of blooms from a pot.)
Rose: Could it be plum blossom?
Trixie: I have no idea.
(Starlight returns in a flash, knocking her back o.s. with a scream and startling the florist into dropping the lot.)
Starlight: Oops! Heh. Sorry, Rose. (levitating several flowers, shoving them to her) But I need a bouquet of flowering sticks, stat. (Pan slightly back to Trixie, now upright.)
Trixie: I thought I was getting the flowering sticks. (Big dumb grin from Starlight.)
Rose: (pacing) Uh, I’m still not exactly sure what they are.
Trixie: No one is.
Starlight: (clapping hoof to forehead) Right, got it. You get the sticks, I’ll get the streamers—(The bracelet rings in.) —right after I take care of what I’m sure is an even smaller student problem than the last one.
(She poofs away from the shop with a weak chuckle. Trixie has almost no time to seethe over the abrupt abandonment before the sound of a weak raspberry being blown from o.s. grabs her attention. A quick pan to Rose reveals her as the culprit—using not her mouth, but a bottle of glue clamped in her teeth. The gooey stuff is matted into her coat/mane/tail, as are several loose blossoms she has been trying—and failing—to attach to a stick. She grins as best she can around the bottle as one of them slowly comes loose, earning a shrug of weary disapproval from Trixie.)
(Dissolve to Starlight at her office desk—saddlebags off, grinning fixedly, and facing Silverstream on the couch. Sunset is visible through the window, and the student has quill and notepad at the ready as before.)
Silverstream: (writing) I think I have the shower thing under control— (Close-up of Starlight; she continues o.s.) —but I can’t figure out how to describe a towel.
(The blue eyes flick fretfully toward the window on the end of this as if to say, “I got called back in here for this?” Wipe to her approaching the sales counter in a party-supply store, bags on and a considerable amount of merchandise in teeth, hooves, and aura. The bracelet chooses this moment to page her, and she vanishes to take care of business—leaving everything she was holding to cascade over the floor, the counter, and the clerk on duty. From here, wipe to the office; she is back at her desk, bags off, and addressing Gallus and Smolder, who sit glowering on the couch with their backs to each other.)
Starlight: Now, Smolder, I understand the School can be a bit drafty, but that doesn’t mean you can breathe fire anywhere you want!
(The griffon turns to the dragon without a word, picks up a book from his lap, and opens it to show that every single page has been burned to a crisp. The ashes slide free of the binding, leaving only the empty cover as Smolder smirks to herself. Wipe to Starlight in an antique shop, bags on and addressing a clerk across a sales counter.)
Starlight: What do you mean, Trixie already picked up Sunburst’s genuine pre-Equestrian Equinox chafing dish? That was my job! (uncertainly) I think…wait. (Her magic extracts the to-do list from her bag and opens it.) Was it?
(Yet another call from the bracelet; she groans and lets the list drop before bailing out. Wipe to her sitting behind the office desk, which is now bristling with dirty bowls, mugs, and teacups. Head propped up on forelegs, she stares wearily across at Ocellus on the couch as the young changeling cycles through a few different forms—earth pony, dragon, bugbear.)
Starlight: Ocellus, it’s perfectly normal for a changeling to struggle with identity issues, but—
Silverstream: (muffled, from outside, through doors) Counselor Starlight! (She opens one and puts her head in.) When you’re done, I need some synonyms for the word “dry”—
(Back to the frazzled counselor, who glances worriedly out the window and sees the sky darkening into night.)
Silverstream: (from o.s.) —or really just help explaining the concept.
(Wipe to the exterior of Sugarcube Corner, seen from across the street, and zoom in slowly as the front door opens. Mrs. Cake steps out and closes it behind herself; in close-up, she has barely engaged the lock before Starlight teleports in.)
Starlight: Uh, wait, Mrs. Cake! (Longer shot; she has not brought her bags.) You can’t close! Trixie and I need to learn the recipe for your Equinox Cake!
Mrs. Cake: Oh, it’s fine, dear. (walking off; slow pan) Trixie was already here. I told her everything she needs to know.
Starlight: (aghast) What? (Mrs. Cake stops.) No! Oh…the Great and Powerful Trixie might keep her promises— (dropping to haunches) —but the Busy and Distracted Starlight sure doesn’t. I promised to help her today, and I haven’t done a single thing!
(She drops into a miserable huddle on the cobblestones.)
Mrs. Cake: Oh, that does sound hard, dear. (The bracelet pings.) A-And I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but— (whispering) —your hoof is glowing. (Starlight glances tiredly at it…)
Starlight: Of course it is.
(…then lets her head flop back down and teleports away. Dissolve to the desk in her now-darkened office; she pops into her chair, lifts her head, and lets her eyes pop wide open upon finding a stone-faced Trixie glaring at her from the couch. A quick burst of magic switches on an overhead lamp. The dirty dishes seen during her talk with Ocellus have been cleared away.)
Starlight: Trixie? What are you doing here?
Trixie: It’s the one place I knew I could find you.
Starlight: (stepping out from behind desk) I am so sorry about today. I’m just so—
Trixie: Busy. I know. Obviously your students are more important than your friends.
Starlight: That’s not—
(Knock; bracelet goes off; Silverstream opens a door and enters, no longer carrying her quill and pad.)
Silverstream: Starlight? You have a minute?
(The overworked counselor spares a glance for her dejected friend before answering.)
Starlight: Actually, Silverstream— (firmly) —I don’t.
(Trixie is very much caught off guard by this declaration; cut to an equally flummoxed Silverstream.)
Starlight: (from o.s.) Besides, I need to lock up the School for the holiday, and it’s time you caught the train home. (Back to her, circling to her chair.) I’m sure a smart and capable student like you can figure out the solution to any problem over the break. But for now… (levitating her bracelet off) …the counselor’s office is closed.
(It lands on her desk, and Silverstream backs up into the corridor and gently pulls the door closed after herself.)
Starlight: (smiling) I have a cake to bake.
(The blue face matches the pinkish-violet one in its happy expression. Dissolve to a slow pan across the forest clearing in which the entrance to Maud Pie’s subterranean home is situated. Balloons have been tied to the mailbox at the head of the front walk leading to it, and another bunch stands up from the opening itself amid a spill of warm light. Cut to a loaded refreshment table within the underground chamber; a severely misshapen three-tiered cake is dropped onto it, knocking the punchbowl aside. It is ineptly frosted and decorated so that the lower two tiers resemble a flowery meadow, while the uppermost is a blue sky filled with clouds. Starlight and Sunburst eye it from opposite sides—the former smiling, the latter troubled—and the camera zooms out to frame Pinkie Pie’s sister Maud, her main squeeze Mudbriar, and Trixie. Sunburst touches a protrusion on the cake and instantly draws his hoof back.)
Sunburst: Yow! (Close-up; he rubs/sucks at the pricked spot.) Is this cake supposed to be so sharp? (Trixie gives him a threatening growl; he smiles hastily.) I mean, it looks really…i-interesting? (She backs off.)
Mudbriar: (from o.s.) Technically… (Cut to him and Maud.) …it’s not symmetrical or aesthetically pleasing
(Comes now a choked little noise of purest vexation; cut to Starlight/Trixie, the latter ready to jump across the table and throttle him.)
Starlight: (throwing foreleg across Trixie’s shoulders to calm her) Maybe it’s not the best cake, but we made it together, and that’s what counts. (Trixie smiles.)
Maud: I’m glad you brought it, and everything else.
(Zoom out quickly to frame the entire chamber for a moment, showing the assorted decorations set up on both banks of the river that runs through it, then cut back to the couple.)
Maud: I’m very excited. This is going to be the most perfect party ever.
Trixie: (to Starlight, levitating a plate/spoon, serving herself from a tray) And with all of your students home for the holiday, I won’t have to worry about you being summoned to your office in the middle of it.
Starlight: (nodding/winking, floating up a cup) Mmm-hmm. Nothing is gonna take me away from this party.
Young male voice: (panicked) Hello? Starlight?
(The interruption comes just as she is taking a drink, which she proceeds to spit all over the floor. Trixie keeps her own mouthful of food behind her teeth as the speaker flies into view—Silverstream’s brother Terramar, introduced in “Surf and/or Turf,” in hippogriff form. He stops in a hover above the water.)
Terramar: Starlight?
Maud: Sorry, this is a private cavern.
Terramar: Is Starlight here? I was told she’d be here! (Starlight steps up, leaving her cup behind.)
Starlight: What’s wrong?
Terramar: I’m Terramar, Silverstream’s brother. I’ve been looking all over for you. Silverstream is missing!
(Starlight voices a stunned gasp, while behind her Trixie nonchalantly resumes chowing down. Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to an overhead shot of the tableau and zoom in slowly.)
Starlight: I don’t understand. Silverstream didn’t come home?
Terramar: (shaking head) Mmm-mmm. I was supposed to meet her at the Mount Aeris train station, but she never showed up.
Sunburst: It’s a long way between Ponyville and Mount Aeris. She could be anywhere.
Terramar: Our parents are leading teams of hippogriffs and sea ponies, searching the land and sea between here and our home. They sent me to check the School.
Starlight: But the School’s closed. All the students are gone.
Terramar: (landing) Are you sure? I know she had a big project due for Twilight. Uh, do you think she might have stayed to finish it?
Starlight: She never told me about a project.
Trixie: (setting plate/spoon aside) Well, to be fair, you closed your office the last time she came by.
Starlight: (irked) Really?
(Recall, though, that Silverstream did in fact mention this assignment at the start of Act One. Trixie offers up a chagrined half-laugh as Starlight glares at her and Terramar gets his dander even farther up.)
Terramar: What kind of counselor turns away a student with a problem? (Starlight, deflated, lets her head droop as Trixie strides up.)
Trixie: The kind with too much on her plate. Starlight has always gone out of her way for her students— (Grateful smile from Starlight.) —and I mean “always.” (The smile fades at this dig.)
Starlight: Except apparently when it matters. This is all my fault! (to the other ponies) You all go back to the party. Terramar and I will check the School. (to him) We’ll find your sister.
(She offers an encouraging smile and a hoof, the latter of which he grips with noticeable uncertainty, and the two vanish in a burst of magic.)
Maud: I should’ve known it couldn’t last. (Close-up.) Party perfection is more of a Pinkie thing.
Mudbriar: (from o.s., disapprovingly) Mmm.
(Pan to him on the start of the next line, standing to her other side and examining the branch to which Rose was sloppily gluing flowers in Act One.)
Mudbriar: I wasn’t going to say anything— (pulling one loose, glue and all) —but these flowers are just glued on, so technically, it wasn’t perfect already.
(A cocked eyebrow from Maud, a “now is not the time” glare from Sunburst; an openly hostile gritting of teeth from Trixie. The expert on all things plant-based hastily puts the remains of the “flowering stick” on the nearest table.)
Mudbriar: But that’s probably not important.
(Wipe to the courtyard on the School grounds; Starlight and Terramar materialize here, release their grip, and turn to survey opposite halves as the camera zooms out quickly. No sign of any living thing that bears even the slightest resemblance to a student.)
Starlight: You check the grounds, and I’ll look inside.
(Legs and wings kick into gear. Wipe to just inside the closed doors of her office as her magic throws them open so she can look in.)
Starlight: Silverstream?
(Nothing doing here either; after a step to the couch and a fast look around, she teleports away. Cut to within some cylindrical metal enclosure, the camera aimed at one open end; she zaps in here, head and forelegs stuck tight.)
Starlight: (reverberating) Hel-looooo?
(A longer shot of the area establishes it as Pinkie’s classroom, equipped with a kitchen and pantry that were not seen in earlier appearances. Starlight has fetched up half-stuck inside the ace baker’s party cannon; she pulls herself free and poofs out. Her next several moves carry her from place to place in the School library: the balcony, onto one of the shelves so that she knocks a couple of books loose, the middle of a study area.)
Starlight: ANYCREATURE?
(Still no response. Out in the courtyard, Terramar—now a sea pony—puts his head up from a stream that runs through the area and spits out a mouthful of water as Starlight pops back in.)
Terramar: She’s not down here.
Starlight: I don’t see her anywhere. (He climbs onto the bank and transforms.)
Terramar: Did you check her room?
(A “why didn’t I think of that?” expression slams itself onto the unicorn’s face, and both go from here to there in a flash. Silverstream’s dormitory room is dark save for the moonlight entering through the half-drawn curtains and a lit lantern that stands on one of two book-cluttered desks. Notes are tucked in among the pages, taped to walls and bulletin boards, and scattered across the floor, and discarded paper and scrolls have filled a trashcan to overflowing and spilled over the side. Terramar turns his attention to the desks, Starlight to a pair of bunk beds.)
Starlight: Well… (Cut to her, magically stripping the top bunk.) …she’s not here.
Terramar: (from o.s. below) No, she isn’t. (Cut to him, taking an open book from the desks.) But look at this!
(Climbing down, Starlight finds herself looking at a pair of pages filled with measurement and anatomical diagrams of…)
Starlight: A cockatrice?
Terramar: Could that be what her project was on?
(He closes the book, returns it to the desk, and points toward the wall. On the start of the next line, cut to his perspective of one taped-up sheet—a map of a trail through heavily forested terrain. Three items have been added in red ink: a sketch of the beast’s chicken-like head, an X on one spot in the trail, and an arc connecting the two. Zoom in slowly.)
Terramar: You don’t think she went into the Everfree Forest to find a cockatrice by herself, do you? (Back to him and Starlight on the end of this.)
Starlight: I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.
(She teleports out by herself, leaving him to pick up the book and stare confusedly at the spot she had occupied. A few seconds later, she returns with an abashed giggle and remembers to take him with her this time. Wipe to the exterior of the Castle and School of Friendship as Trixie gallops into view, wearing her hat and cape for the first time this episode. Maud, Mudbriar, and Sunburst follow her toward the School, but the sudden magical return of Starlight and Terramar result in a six-way collision that dumps them all onto the turf. They get back to all fours during the following exchange; Terramar is no longer carrying the book he snagged from Silverstream’s room.)
Starlight: Uh, what are you all doing here?
Sunburst: We came to help.
Trixie: We couldn’t let you handle this alone.
Mudbriar: Technically, she wasn’t alone. (Annoyed glares from Maud/Sunburst/Trixie; he relents and smiles.) But we wanted to help anyway.
Starlight: Thanks—all of you. But the students are my responsibility. I’m the one who didn’t do my job when it actually mattered.
Trixie: (reluctantly) I might share a bit of the blame for pressuring you into leaving work early.
Starlight: But…I don’t want to ruin your party.
Maud: We can still have a party. (Pause.) A search party.
Terramar: Can we talk about all this later? Silverstream might be in the Everfree Forest alone!
(Sunburst and Trixie gasp, while Maud and Mudbriar remain impassive as always.)
Starlight: We think she went in to do research on cockatrices. (Profile close-up of Sunburst.)
Sunburst: What?! The gaze of the cockatrice is known to petrify any who dare to cross its path, and the reptilian birds are elusive and solitary! W-W-Where would we even start? (Zoom out to frame Trixie.)
Trixie: I have a lot of experience telling ponies that I have experience with the dangerous creatures of Everfree Forest. Follow me!
(She zips away; Starlight can only offer the others a hopelessly confused shrug and gallop after her. Terramar goes airborne to follow, and the remaining three start their legs moving. Wipe to the group charging into the Everfree Forest and stopping at a fork in the path; Trixie glances one way, then the other before speaking.)
Trixie: The Great and Directionally Astute Trixie says we go left!
(She indicates her choice with a confidently pointing hoof, and the crew moves on. Cut to an extreme close-up of another spot on the path as her hooves step into view and pause, then zoom out to frame them all. A trail branches away from the one they have been following.)
Trixie: (pointing along it) This way!
(Off they go; after a few hundred more yards, she waves them to a stop, sniffs deeply of the air, and licks a hoof to hold up and gauge the wind direction. A nod, a gesture to show the next heading, and they are on the go. Cut to a close-up of Terramar, now shivering with fear as he flies, and tilt down to Maud and Mudbriar, the latter having screwed a jeweler’s loupe into his eye socket so he can examine a leafy twig he has picked up. Wipe to the rescue party trekking through yet another stretch of the forest, Mudbriar no longer using the loupe or carrying the specimen. They pass o.s., but return the way they came after a second or two…then forward again…and next Trixie throws herself onto her belly so she can lap up a bit of dirt from the trail. This is worked back and forth in her jaws and spat out in due time, and she points out another direction and stands to lead them on. They arrive at the very first fork and stop.)
Maud: Weren’t we just here?
Starlight: Trixie, do you have any idea how to find a cockatrice?
Trixie: No. But usually when there’s a dangerous creature in the forest I don’t want to meet, this is how I meet them.
Sunburst: We might need a more concrete plan. (Terramar pulls out the book from Silverstream’s room and starts to read.)
Trixie: Hmph! Suit yourself.
Terramar: Um, according to Silverstream’s research, the cockatrice prefers rocky terrain and ample shade.
Trixie: (sweetly sardonic tone) Rocks and shade. Hm. I can’t imagine where we’ll find that in a forest.
Maud: Actually, rocks aren’t the most hospitable environment for shade trees.
Mudbriar: Technically, pine trees like Pinus cembra or Pinus sylvestris can grow from narrow crevasses or cracks in a rocky rhizosphere.
Maud: (to him) You complete me. (He smiles.)
Starlight: (pointing to one side) There’s some pine trees over there!
(Twenty hooves and two wings double-time it in that direction. Dissolve to a stony plain in which a dozen or more cockatrices have gathered—some on the unforgiving ground itself, others on the ledges of a pine-dotted ridge. Hisses and clucks rise from the magical half-breeds before one lets go with a grating cry and the camera tilts up. One by one, Trixie and company—all hunched down as far as they can go—peek out over the edge of a promontory that stands high above the plain. All keep their voices down until/unless otherwise noted.)
Starlight: (to Sunburst) I thought you said they were solitary!
Sunburst: They are! This must be some kind of migration!
Terramar: (shuddering) At least there’s no sign of Silverstream. I can’t imagine getting caught in the middle of that flock.
Trixie: It’s just lucky we’re all over here and they’re all over there.
(A grating, feral roar puts the lie to her words, and a glance back along the promontory tells them that one of the monsters has them cornered. They slowly rise to all fours, Terramar no longer carrying the book; cut to Maud/Mudbriar/Trixie.)
Mudbriar: (normal volume) Technically—
Trixie: Don’t even say it!
Starlight: (from o.s.) Whatever you do— (Pan to her and Sunburst, both covering eyes with a hoof.) —don’t look at them.
(She addresses herself to the now-hovering Terramar; tilt up to him on the next line.)
Starlight: Their gaze can turn you to stone.
Terramar: (shading his eyes) So what do we do?
(Here come not one, not two, but three of them. Sunburst is the first to lose his nerve.)
Sunburst: RUUUUUNNNNN!!
(All but Starlight immediately begin flying/galloping back down the promontory, but she holds her ground until the last possible second to act as a decoy. She teleports away when the cockatrices are almost on her, confusing one to the point that it veers in the wrong direction. The other two set after the fleeing ponies and hippogriff as the view fades to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to a very long shot of the cockatrices’ gathering plain, now seen as the floor of a broad gorge. One harries Terramar as he flies for his life, while two more stay after the other five. Profile close-up of Sunburst, eyes shut tight.)
Sunburst: HEEEEELLLLLP!!
(An impact with a tree trunk stops him dead; he falls to his haunches, moaning woozily and rubbing his head. A good hard shake of the brain bucket restores enough of his sense to let him stagger up to his hooves and back up—just in time to avoid being hit by Starlight when she pops in.)
Starlight: Sunburst!
(Eyes still closed, he screams in fright and fires off a beam from his horn; she matches his yell and hits the deck, the spell missing her head by mere inches.)
Starlight: Stop! It’s me! (He looks her straight on.)
Sunburst: S-Starlight! I’m so sorry! (helping her up) We have to get out of here!
Starlight: I know. Hang on!
(She teleports him and herself back to that first fork in the trail, and four very worried eyes take in the scenery at high speed.)
Starlight: We can’t leave. Silverstream might still be in the forest. Stay here. I’ll get the others. (Vanish.)
Sunburst: Be careful!
(He cringes a bit and worries his lower lip. Cut to an overhead shot of Trixie and Terramar in a clearing elsewhere, averting their gazes and backing toward one another as cockatrices close in from all sides, then to ground level.)
Terramar: The clucking is coming from everywhere!
Trixie: The Great and Powerful Trixie fears no cluck!
(A bit of horn-power brings a small sphere out from an inside pocket of her cape and smashes it against the earth, releasing a blanket of thick gray smoke. Starlight teleports into the midst of it and, after a bit of squinting to get her bearings, soon finds the pair.)
Starlight: Come on!
(All three use her arcane emergency exit an instant before the smoke clears and the beasts close the last distance, puzzled at the sudden absence of any quarry. They reappear at the fork, scaring a yelp out of the waiting Sunburst, but Starlight wastes no time in poofing out. Elsewhere, Maud has accumulated a pile of baseball-sized rocks and is bucking them at a trio of attackers, scoring no hits but making them think twice about trying to get any closer. Starlight’s magic deposits her squarely in the line of fire; she has only time for one sharp gasp before Maud’s next shot comes her way. The unicorn’s instinctive drop to the ground is the only thing that prevents her from acquiring a permanent dent in her skull; instead, the rock lands a direct hit on one cockatrice.)
Starlight: (standing, jumping to her) Maud, we’ve gotta get out of here!
Maud: I’m not leaving him.
(She backs off ever so slightly and gestures off one side—where Mudbriar stands petrified from end to end. As the horrible hybrids close in, Starlight gasps and teleports all three away from the scene. Wipe to the fork as they pop back in.)
Sunburst: (gasping, horrified) Mudbriar’s been turned to stone?!
Maud: I didn’t think I could love him any more.
Trixie: We’ve got to get outta here!
Terramar: But we haven’t found Silverstream! We can’t leave yet!
(A wave of raucous cries reaches their ears an instant before the whole airborne flock comes barreling toward them.)
Starlight: Well, we can’t stay here. Come on!
(She levitates Mudbriar and peels out with the others, Terramar flying. They take cover behind a clump of bushes, letting the flock zoom past, and Starlight carefully pushes the leaves aside once the coast is clear. Or not quite, as the case may be; one cockatrice has hung back and has fixed its narrowed, glowing red eyes directly on her. She screams and throws herself backwards as it erupts through the bush, followed by a second, and a third one quickly joins the chase. The fugitives arrive at one end of a rope/plank bridge and stop short, finding that the ruins of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters stand beyond the other end. The glimmering boughs of the crystalline treehouse that sprouted from the Tree of Harmony spread upward and outward from within the tumbled walls.)
Starlight: This way!
(She leads the charge across the rickety span, the cockatrices in hot pursuit, and the race to the front entrance is on. A quick exertion of telekinesis throws the great doors open for the group to enter, then slams them in the flock’s faces. Nothing gets through except for the sound of a few feathered reptile bodies crashing against the wood.)
Trixie: Now what?
Sunburst: Let’s hope Silverstream found a good place to hide. There could be hundreds more cockatrices on the way! If this really is a migration, it’ll take a full lunar cycle to complete.
Terramar: Oh, I have to get word back to our parents that Silverstream could be surrounded by those terrifying birds!
Maud: (stroking Mudbriar’s leg) And as handsome as Mudbriar is now, we should probably catch one of them to turn him back to normal.
Starlight: Ugh! This is all my fault! (resolutely, stomping) I’m never taking time off from my counseling duties again!
Trixie: That seems a little extreme.
Starlight: Really?! If I hadn’t galloped off to a holiday celebration, Silverstream would be safe with her family, and you’d all be enjoying Maud’s party! (pacing) Instead, my student is missing, we’re surrounded by a flock of petrifying chicken-snakes, and Maud’s boyfriend was turned into a hunk of rock!
Maud: (smiling, stroking Mudbriar’s cheek) You got the “hunk” part right.
Starlight: And to top it off, we have no idea if Silverstream even came to Everfree at all! But I have no idea where else to look!
(She stares forlornly at the other five. Long pause.)
Trixie: (pointing past her) Has that always been there?
Starlight: (pivoting to look) What?
(Now she sees the treehouse in all its scintillating splendor, a marked contrast to the overgrowth and half-crumbled structures of the surrounding courtyard.)
Starlight: (dismissively) Oh, that’s the students’ treehouse. Apparently it grew from the Tree of Harmony and—
(Her addled mind manages to put two and two and two together, and she voices a happy gasp as the result of that computation sinks in.)
Starlight: Of course! That should have been the first place we looked!
(All those who can still move under their own power promptly get it in gear, with the exception of Maud—who wraps both forelegs around the inert form of her very special somepony and begins to drag him along. Starlight’s magic grips the front doorknob and turns so the group can enter; cut to a doorway inside, near a set of shelves loaded with books and knickknacks. Starlight and Terramar are first to enter, the unicorn voicing a relieved sigh as they find an intact Silverstream working at a table across this circular room. It is of medium size and has been set up as a combination study and bedroom, if the pillow and blanket hanging over a ledge at the top of a short staircase are any indication. Silverstream sits with her back to the entrance and does not even flinch as a cockatrice flies down to her, though Starlight does uncork a lung-bursting gasp.)
Starlight: Silverstream, look out! (Silverstream turns toward her, alarmed.)
Silverstream: Counselor Starlight! No!
(The creature lunges, tongue hissing and gaze burning red. As Sunburst and Trixie enter, all eyes are hastily covered and the pinkish-violet horn warms up for a spell as Silverstream throws herself in its path.)
Silverstream: WAIT!!
(Cut to Starlight’s perspective. She slowly lowers the hoof she has put up and is met with the sight of a cockatrice perched on the smiling student’s upraised talons. Not growling or roaring or striking or petrifying—just sitting there docilely. Back to the other four; Starlight cuts her spell and all gingerly let themselves take in this strange new development. It gets even more whacked-out when Silverstream elicits a string of happy little clucks by stroking the cockatrice’s belly with a free talon.)
Silverstream: This is Edith. She’s helping me with my project. (Maud drags Mudbriar into the study.)
Starlight: I…don’t understand.
Silverstream: After you encouraged me to solve my own problem, I decided to get my project done before I left. That way, I could really focus on my family during my visit. The School was closed, so I came here.
Terramar: Why didn’t you tell anyone? Mom and Dad are worried sick!
Silverstream: Oh, no! I’m so sorry! Once Edith volunteered to help, I guess I lost track of time. (smiling, scratching Edith’s belly) Cockatrices are really friendly if you know how to interact with them.
(A bit of attention to the throat, and the animal is clucking softly away in seventh heaven.)
Sunburst: I can’t believe you figured out how to trigger her nesting response!
Silverstream: They are really fascinating creatures. Did you know that they migrate to the Everfree Forest once a year? Can you imagine what would happen if you stumbled on a whole flock of these?
(Starlight, Sunburst, Trixie, and Terramar trade uneasy looks, her words hitting just a wee bit too close to home.)
Starlight: (grinning stupidly) I have a few ideas.
(They and Maud step aside to give Silverstream a good look at the immobilized Mudbriar, causing her to voice a stunned gasp. Dissolve to a long overhead shot of Maud’s home and zoom in slowly; all seven are here, and Mudbriar is flesh and blood again. Edith is absent, and Trixie is no longer wearing her hat and cape.)
Silverstream: (to Mudbriar) I’m sorry you got turned to stone looking for me. (Close-up.) But I’m glad Edith was able to turn you back. (Pan to Sunburst and Trixie.)
Sunburst: (whispering, to her) How do you tell the difference? (A “beats me” shrug of the blue shoulders.)
Maud: I have mixed feelings about it.
Mudbriar: Technically, I will always be a stick pony. But the experience has given me an even deeper appreciation for the density and permanence of rock.
Maud: (smiling) Swoon.
(Pan away from them to Silverstream and Terramar on the next line.)
Terramar: (to Starlight) Silverstream and I should get going, but…I wanted to thank you for everything you did to help find her. (He pats Silverstream’s shoulder; she beams.)
Starlight: (dejectedly) I just wish I hadn’t abandoned her in the first place.
Trixie: (crossing to touch her chest) Starlight, you didn’t abandon her.
Starlight: I might as well have. And even though it turned out all right, things could’ve been a lot worse.
Sunburst: You can’t be expected to supervise your students every second of every day.
Starlight: I’m not so sure.
Silverstream: I like that you’re always available, but it kind of makes it okay to come to you with stuff that maybe isn’t super-important.
Trixie: Of course, being a school counselor is a big responsibility, but always being at work isn’t fair to anypony— (smirking) —especially me.
Starlight: (to Silverstream) Do you think if I had set times to see me, it might help you decide what you really need to talk about?
Silverstream: To be honest, you really weren’t very helpful with the other stuff anyway. (Cut to Starlight.)
Starlight: Yeah, I—wait. What?
(On the start of the next line, pan quickly to Trixie—now standing next to the table set with the nowhere-near-perfect cake that she and Starlight put together in Act One.)
Trixie: Happy Spring Sols-Tastic, everypony! (levitating a cake server) Who wants a piece of Mrs. Cake’s famous—
(Close-up of the lopsided dessert on the end of this; she jabs the utensil into it, intending to cut a slice, but it proves tough enough to crush the blade into junk.)
Sunburst: (from o.s.) Petrified dessert? (Pan to Maud, holding up a plate, on the next line.)
Maud: You had me at “petrified.”
(The blue baker laughs at her own lack of skill in the kitchen, and the other four non-stoics join in as the camera cuts to an overhead shot of the gathering. Zoom out slowly and fade to black.)
THE LAST CRUSADE
Written by Nicole Dubuc
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to a road through the outskirts of Ponyville during the day. A small figure gallops over a rise and into view, speaking in a young male voice.)
Figure: Cutie Mark Crusaders!
(Zoom out quickly along the road and into the town as the figure pelts along, resolving into Skedaddle—the light blue unicorn colt who was one of the attendees at Cutie Mark Day Camp in “Marks and Recreation.”)
Skedaddle: Cutie Mark Crusaders! (A stallion he passes gets spooked into dropping the apple he holds in his mouth.) Cutie Mark Crusaders! (Close-up.) Cutie Mark Crusaders!
(This shot picks out a cutie mark on a haunch that had previously been bare, but his pistoning legs turn it into an indiscriminate blur.)
Scootaloo: (from o.s., distant) We’re at my house!
(He slams on the brakes and heads back up the block. Cut to just inside the closed front door of a house; he pushes this open from the step.)
Skedaddle: (jumping in place, legs windmilling) I GOT MY CUTIE MARK!! (Sweetie Belle steps into view toward him.)
Sweetie: You did?
(Cut to frame all three of the Cutie Mark Crusaders entering this front hall from the kitchen, where two mares sit at a table. One is an earth pony, Holiday: light brown coat, mane/tail in two shades of pinkish-red, dark red eyes, small blue flower earrings, pale blue scarf. The other, working a sewing machine, is Lofty: cream-colored coat, two-tone blue-green mane/tail cut short and a touch rumpled, dark blue-green eyes, older than Holiday, square jaw, the edge of a blue turtleneck collar visible above the top of a chair that obscures most of the rest of her. Their cutie marks are hidden by the furniture/wall placement, and Lofty’s tribe cannot be immediately identified beyond the fact that she is not a unicorn. An open suitcase rests on the floor near her.)
Crusaders: That’s great, Skedaddle!
Sweetie: Yeah! What’s it for?
(Close-up of his haunch; he pivots to show it off clearly—a length of rope fashioned into a looping knot.)
Skedaddle: Knot tying! (Zoom out.) And I never would’ve gotten it without all of you!
Apple Bloom: (to Scootaloo/Sweetie) Did we suggest knot tying? (They puzzle it out as he zips over to them.)
Skedaddle: (to Sweetie) First I tried sailing, like you said. (to Scootaloo) Next I tried fishing, like you said. (to Bloom) Then I tried rowing, like you said.
(He mimes each action as it is named.)
Skedaddle: But my oar broke. (Sit.) So I used my fishing line to tie it back together— (springing up with gusto) —AND I GOT MY CUTIE MARK!! (Yell; shake Scootaloo.) I can’t wait to tell everypony!
(He dashes out the door, which the little pegasus closes in his wake, and all three trade a high five in close-up. The next three lines overlap.)
Bloom: All right!
Scootaloo: Yeah!
Sweetie: Woo-hoo!
Mare voice: (Australian accent) Oh, how exciting!
(Cut to within the kitchen, framing all five occupants. Holiday’s cutie mark is now visible as a sailboat and sun, Lofty’s as a needle and spool of thread, and this shot establishes the latter as a pegasus. Holiday is the one who spoke.)
Holiday: You three truly have a gift for helping ponies.
Scootaloo: Aw, thanks, Aunt Holiday, but I’m not sure we can take credit for this one. (Close-up of Holiday.)
Holiday: Of course you can. You encouraged that colt to try new things, and because you all believed in him, he succeeded. (Pan to Lofty, who shuts off her machine.)
Lofty: (flipping through sheets of sketches) I could use that kinda help. Hmph.
Scootaloo: (snickering) Come on, Auntie Lofty. You already have your cutie mark. (Lofty pokes at it and smiles.)
Lofty: Lotta good it does me. (lifting cloth) I can’t decide what theme to give this quilt! Ugh, I’ve run out of inspiration.
Bloom: (from o.s.) How ’bout apples? (All five again.) Puppies! Kites! (The Crusaders move toward the table, one by one.)
Sweetie: Or cotton candy, or ballet! (Close-up of the trio.)
Scootaloo: What about a Wonderbolt quilt?
(Chuckle from the o.s. Lofty; cut to her, smiling again.)
Lofty: See? Leave it to you three to come up with more ideas than I’ve had in a year. Now that’s talent.
(The sound of a cuckoo clock’s engaging mechanism catches her off guard; cut to this wall-mounted timepiece as it signals the hour, then zoom out to frame Holiday.)
Holiday: Goodness! (leaving her chair) We’d better get going or we’ll miss our train home!
(She addresses Scootaloo as Lofty scoops fabric pieces into the suitcase, closes it, and slings it onto her back.)
Holiday: I left you plenty of healthy food for the weekend.
Lofty: (following her toward front door) And I left you cookies. (Chuckle; three-way gasp from the Crusaders.)
Holiday: (opening door) The Cakes’ll stay with you tonight, then Rarity, and Rainbow Dash after that. (ruffling Scootaloo’s mane; Lofty hefts a second bag) Remember, we’re just a few stops from Ponyville if you need us.
Lofty: She knows, Holiday. See you next week, slugger! (The mares head out.)
Scootaloo: Bye, Aunt Holiday! Bye, Auntie Lofty! (She shuts the door behind them.)
Sweetie: Your aunts are so nice!
Bloom: Yeah! It’s really cool they’d watch you while your parents are gone.
Scootaloo: I know! I just wish they lived closer. (dreamily) Nopony bakes like Auntie Lofty.
(A knock jolts her out of this reverie; cut to just outside the door, where a delivery-uniformed Derpy Hooves has just dropped off a postcard on the step. She lifts off as Scootaloo opens the door and picks it up; after a quick read, her wondering stare yields to an ecstatic gasp.)
Scootaloo: They’re coming home today!
Sweetie: Who? (Zoom in quickly on Scootaloo.)
Scootaloo: MY PARENTS!!
(Now it falls to the other two Crusaders to boggles as she adopts a gleaming-eyed, ear-to-ear grin. Fade to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to the exterior of the Ponyville schoolhouse and zoom in slowly. On the start of the next line, cut to a slow pan across the classroom. Cheerilee is teaching with the help of a portable blackboard on a rolling frame that shows a sketch of the weather factory in Cloudsdale. One desk is empty, and Scootaloo is not present among the pupils.)
Cheerilee: Today, we’re going to learn about the pegasus weather factory…
(The sound of a door latch and creaking hinges interrupts her lesson; cut to Scootaloo peeking out from the entrance she has just opened.)
Cheerilee: (from o.s., pointedly) …once everypony is in their seats.
(With an apologetic grin, the filly shuts the door and gallops back to take her seat.)
Cheerilee: (spinning board, pointing out sketches on other side) The factory specializes in snow, rain, sunshine, and… (clearing her throat, impatiently) …Scootaloo, may I help you?
(Scootaloo has left her desk and is standing on a countertop so she can peer out a window.)
Scootaloo: (thinking fast, grabbing two blackboard erasers) I…just noticed your erasers needed dusting.
(Chuckling weakly, she pounds them together and sends up enough chalk dust to set off a round of coughing from front to back. It takes a few seconds for air and lungs to clear; cut to Cheerilee.)
Cheerilee: Uh, why don’t we hold off on the lesson until after lunch? (A quick mulling of the options.) How about Show and Tell? Does anypony have any— (Scootaloo races up and faces the class.)
Scootaloo: (rising to hind legs, hovering briefly) My parents are coming home to Ponyville today!
Snips: (from o.s., suspiciously) Wait. (Cut to him.) They don’t live here?
Scootaloo: (standing up) Nope. Their jobs are way too important for that. (Jump onto the countertop.) They travel to the farthest, most dangerous places in Equestria to study unknown plants and fierce creatures.
(Accompanied by the following. Spin a globe; point out a remote island; hold a magnifying glass up to one eye; rear up ominously as the lights dim for a moment. She then darts back to pace at the front of the room.)
Scootaloo: And what they learn helps pony science and medicine! (dramatically) I’d go with them, but it’s too dangerous.
(The other colts and fillies trade baffled/skeptical glances when the camera cuts to them; back to Scootaloo on the start of the next line, hurling herself through the air, landing on her back and quickly springing upright.)
Scootaloo: Once, my mom had to wing-wrestle a wyvern, and my dad got trapped in a chimera’s cave for three moons. (drawing a chalk stroke under one eye) He still has the scars to prove it.
Snips: (from o.s.) Pffft! (Cut to him.) You’re makin’ that up! Nopony has that kinda job.
(He is brought up short by a series of thundering impacts that shake the entire schoolhouse. All eyes turn nervously toward the door, and the camera pans quickly to it just in time for a roaring cragodile to bash it open and lumber in. Students gasp, scream, and flee to get as far from the creature as they can, Bloom jumping clear of her desk an instant before it is chomped to splinters. They end up huddled together on the countertop by the windows, with the exception of Cheerilee, who grabs Scootaloo and jumps onto her own desk.)
Cheerilee: IT’S A CRAGODILE!!
(And it targets these two with a headlong charge—the chalk now gone from the filly’s cheek—but stops just short at the sound of the door being flung open and a shadow falling over it. The source is a leaping earth pony stallion, his features almost completely lost in silhouette due to the sunlight pouring in under him, but a light-colored, short-sleeved bush shirt with a coiled rope attached to its hem can be immediately discerned. A split second later, the cragodile finds itself on the receiving end of an impressive flying tackle and being pinned to the floor on its belly. The new arrival, Snap Shutter, is a bulky brown stallion with an unruly, deep purple mane/tail, red-violet eyes, dark brown hoof tips, stubble along the jawline, and a cutie mark of a camera and half-folded map. The bush shirt is white with gray trim, and the mane is covered by a battered, dark brown “crusher” hat with several large animal teeth tucked into its band. He speaks with an Australian accent.)
Snap: Easy there, marshmallow! Time you were in your crate for your nap!
(One nip at the rope is all he needs to fashion a loop and cinch the mighty jaws together. The struggle continues until a second shadow casts itself over the room, its source a tall, pinkish-red pegasus mare who lands to give the cragodile a stern glare. This one, Mane Allgood, has a long mane/tail in blond and white, the former tied back, and deep purple eyes; her cutie mark is hidden for the time being by her spread wings. She wears a bush shirt similar to Snap’s, but green and buttoned to the neck.)
Mane: And that means now, mister!
(With a submissive whimper, it allows itself to be escorted out the door and into a large, open crate by Snap, who lets go of the rope for the last few steps. The hatch drops to pen it in, and Snap kicks the door shut as Mane crosses to him, giving a clear view of her mark—a compass and gust of wind—and the two trade a nonchalant high five. Once Scootaloo gets her wits about her, she gasps happily and darts out from behind the paralyzed Cheerilee to hug each in turn.)
Scootaloo: Mom! Dad! (Squeal of joy.)
Bloom: (stepping closer, to the others) Still think she’s makin’ it all up? (They clamber off the countertop, except for Snips.)
Snips: (shaking head) Nuh-uh!
(He hops down after them, and Scootaloo stays up front as the others sit again, with Bloom taking over Scootaloo’s desk.)
Scootaloo: Everypony, meet my parents—Snap Shutter and Mane Allgood! (Close-up of Snap.)
Snap: (removing hat) Heh. Sorry to make such an entrance. Just brought back a few mates from our last adventure. (Pan to Mane on the next line.)
Mane: We couldn’t wait another moment to see Scootaloo. I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.
(Cut to a close-up of Cheerilee’s quivering hooves and tilt up to her face, green eyes shrunken to freaked-out points over a rictus grin.)
Cheerilee: (small voice) No, I, uh…think…class is dismissed.
(Wipe to just outside the schoolhouse door. Parked off to one side is a wagon stacked high with crates that hold the cragodile and a host of other exotic critters. Foals spill out onto the front walk, talking excitedly, as the camera pans ahead to the Crusaders and Scootaloo’s parents. Snap has put his hat back on and rested a hoof on the top of Scootaloo’s head.)
Snap: Crikey! (Close-up; he hunches down and holds it flat to his forehead.) You’re nearly as tall as me now, Scoot.
Scootaloo: (waving him off) Aw, come on, Dad.
Mane: (from o.s.) Oh, Scootaloo— (The entire family.) —we missed you.
Scootaloo: (hugging her) Me too, Mom. Did you get all my letters?
Mane: And read them twenty times. (ruffling her mane) But they’re never as good as the real thing. (wrapping a wing around her) It’s so good so see you.
Snap: I say we celebrate with ice cream sundaes! They don’t have those in the jungle, that’s for sure.
Mane: Why don’t you all come? Our treat.
(The other two Crusaders are quick to scamper up on either side of their friend and grin their approval of this suggestion with her. Wipe to a pan through a busy ice cream parlor, an employee carrying a tray of loaded bowls past, and stop on the five sitting around a table with their own treats.)
Scootaloo: And Princess Twilight said we’re such good friendship tutors, she might even let us teach a class!
Snap: Good on you, Scoot!
Mane: What an honor! (Snap takes a bite.)
Scootaloo: I can give you a tour of the School if you want— (Sweetie eats.) —I mean, if you’re staying for a while this time.
Snap: Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of us.
Scootaloo: (gasping, wide-eyed) Really?
Mane: (nodding) Mmm-hmm, because we’ve taken a new job assignment that will let all of us live together!
Scootaloo: (gasping, leaning across table) I can’t believe it! (hovering out of chair) That’s awesome!
(Cut to the Crusaders’ side of the table; Bloom offers a hoof for a high five once she lands.)
Bloom: All right, Scootaloo! (Scootaloo thumps her hoof against it.)
Sweetie: Woo-hoo! (Cut to Snap on the next line.)
Snap: We never planned to be away for so long in the first place. We just kept discovering things that could help Equestria, and nopony else had the experience to finish our job.
Mane: (leaning forward) But with all that’s happened lately—Sombra’s return, the destruction of the Tree of Harmony—we decided our family should be together.
(Each parent extends a hoof toward Scootaloo, who grins and lays her front pair across them so they can pull her close.)
Scootaloo: This is the best day of my life! (She nestles against Mane.)
Snap: We’ll stay in town for the weekend so you can pack your things.
Scootaloo: (floored) Wait. What?!?
Mane: We’re all moving to Shire Lanka! That’s where our new job is.
(“Lanka” is pronounced so that its first syllable rhymes with “bank.”)
Scootaloo: But…my friends are in Ponyville!
Snap: You can come back and visit ’em, or they can take the train to us. There’s one every month.
(The orange filly’s brain seems to have stopped working, but the yellow one picks up the slack by gathering her in.)
Bloom: But Scootaloo can’t leave! (Sweetie wraps them both up.)
Sweetie: We’ve been together our whole lives!
Mane: It’ll be a big change for everypony, but it’ll be a good change. Give it time. You’ll see. (All six young eyes water up.)
Scootaloo: The only thing I see is the end of the Cutie Mark Crusaders!
(She is the first to begin shedding tears, and the other two look to be only a step or two behind as the view fades to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to the exterior of the Crusaders’ clubhouse, zooming in slowly, and cut to an extreme close-up of a gavel’s sounding block inside. Bloom’s hoof reaches into view to pound the mallet listlessly against it; cut to her standing behind the lectern and wiping tears from her eyes. All three look and sound very weepy until further notice.)
Bloom: I now call our last-ever Cutie Mark Crusader meeting to order. First item of business… (bawling) …CRYYYYY!!
(Zoom out to frame this entire end of the room. Scootaloo and Sweetie, sitting on their haunches, are quick to follow suit; saline puddles accumulate on the floor around Scootaloo’s pounding hooves as she throws herself down.)
Scootaloo: You can’t let the blank flanks down just ’cause I’m gone. You gotta keep being CMC’s without me.
Sweetie: (wiping nose, sniffling) How? (Bloom leaves the lectern.) There’s only two of us! (Scootaloo gets up.)
Scootaloo: Maybe you can find a replacement for me.
Sweetie: No, we can’t! You’re the only…you!
Bloom: Nothin’s gonna be the same! (crossing to Scootaloo) Who’s gonna ride their scooter ahead of us everywhere we go?
Sweetie: (ditto) Or—or—or put on plays with us, or go camping with us, or just…hang out with us?
Scootaloo: Well, it’s worse for me! (sobbing, throwing herself at their hooves) I have to say goodbye to both of—
(The sound of the opening door dries up all three sets of leaky waterworks in an instant. Cut to just behind them, the camera aimed at a hovering Rainbow Dash who has just let herself in.)
Rainbow: (pulling out three tickets) Guess who just got three front-row tickets to the Wonderbolts show next week!
(And the waterworks kick into gear all over again, leaving her at a loss.)
Rainbow: (putting tickets away) Uh, that is not the reaction I was expecting. (She lands; Scootaloo crosses to her, sniffling.)
Scootaloo: Thanks for the tickets, Rainbow Dash, but I can’t go. (The other two join them.)
Bloom: Her parents are making her move super-far away from Ponyville!
Rainbow: (popping up to a hover) What?!? (turning Scootaloo’s face toward hers) No way! Scootaloo belongs here! (Touch down; cut to the Crusaders.)
Sweetie: And now we’ll probably never see her again! It’s hopeless!
(All three youngsters fall against each other, sobbing and wailing and crying in a way that would rival Rarity for unbridled histrionics.)
Rainbow: (from o.s., waving a hoof into view) Whoa, whoa, whoa. (They quiet down; cut to her.) I cannot believe you’re giving up so easily. You’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Solving tough problems is what you do.
(Scootaloo is first to dry her eyes and put on a tentative smile; the others do likewise in turn.)
Scootaloo: We are pretty good at coming up with ideas.
Sweetie: That’s right! When we work together, we’re unstoppable!
Bloom: I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before! It’s list time, y’all!
(She returns to the lectern, unfurls a sizable sheet over its top, and gets out a pencil.)
Bloom: First question—why do Scootaloo’s parents want to move to Shire Lanka?
Scootaloo: That’s where their new job is.
Sweetie: (gasping deeply) What if we get them a job here instead?
Bloom: (tossing pencil aside) Yeah! They like dangerous creatures, right? (She pulls a book from a shelf and leafs through it.) We gotta have some of those around here, like, uh… (Show a couple of pages to the others.) …timber wolves!
(She has found a set of diagrams detailing various bits of their anatomy. Cut to Scootaloo.)
Scootaloo: Dad knows all about those—and cockatrices, and bugbears. They only study super-rare animals. (Sweetie steps up next to her.)
Sweetie: Then maybe we need to give them an animal nopony’s ever heard of! (Cut to all three on the next line.)
Bloom: Uh, then how would we hear about it?
Sweetie: Because we’re making it up! (beckoning) Come on!
(Outside the clubhouse; the Crusaders gallop eagerly down the ramp and a still-perplexed Rainbow puts her head out after them.)
Rainbow: (holding up tickets) Soooo…you want these tickets, or…?
(Dissolve to the outskirts of the Everfree Forest, a set of clawed footprints leading in from the vicinity of Ponyville. Scootaloo hops out from a clump of bushes, followed by her parents, and points along the trail; Snap has a camera along around his neck.)
Scootaloo: This is what I wanted to show you. (ominously) The tracks of the mysterious Everfree Banshee Beast! (Cut to the adults.)
Mane: Hmmm…they’re like nothing I’ve ever seen!
Scootaloo: (from o.s.) Legend says it has five claws…
(Back to her on the end of this, showing off groups of claw marks in a tree trunk—only three per group, though.)
Scootaloo: (grabbing a three-leaved plant) …and three wings! (slyly) And it’s super-dangerous if you get close. If only somepony could prove it exists.
Snap: Hmmm…easy enough. (He bends to inspect one track.) We’ll follow the spoor.
(He and Mane advance, now both hunkered down, only to be headed off by one shuddery, slightly panicked daughter.)
Scootaloo: (grinning hastily, pointing to one side) I think I heard something this way!
(The tracks veer off the main trail and into a stand of moss-grown trees and shrubs. Zoom in on this as a tall, scrawny, vaguely reptilian shape lopes into view, then cut back to Mane and Snap. Notepad and camera are respectively brought to bear, and wings and hooves carry them toward the site. A large animal head made of stuffed fabric is magically swung up into view in the fore, the background wiping behind it to a patch of heavy undergrowth. The head has a pig’s snout, large bat-like ears, scales, and slit-pupiled eyes that are a quarter-turn out of sync. It is set on the end of a long, upright, serpentine body with mismatched wings, where it topples back and forth even as Sweetie’s grunts of exertion float up and she strains to set it correctly with her field. Finally she gets it right and this creation is seen in full: body hastily stitched together from whatever scraps of cloth might have been in easy reach, four clawed feet, Bloom’s tail jutting from the hindquarters.)
Bloom: (from within) So the plan is—
(Cut to her inside, Sweetie’s tail extending into view toward her face—these two are each wearing one pair of the creature’s feet on their hooves.)
Bloom: —we let ’em get a picture, then we hide again. Right?
(Pan ahead to the young unicorn, who can only manage a shaky moan as she holds up the front half of the fabric body with her head. A rustle of leaves is heard in the distance; cut to a long shot of the two explorers leaping out of a bush toward their quarry. The head turns toward them under Sweetie’s control, notes and a picture are quickly taken, and she peeks fearfully out through a loose seam as they move in.)
Sweetie: Now the plan is…RUUUNNN!!
(She and Bloom do so, making good time along the trail until they try to veer around a tree in opposite directions. The body catches on the trunk, elongates to an absurd extent as if it were made of rubber, and finally rips in half. Two yelling fillies and a rain of textile scraps wind up in an undignified mess on the forest floor, Bloom stuck headfirst in a bush and Sweetie lying on her belly. Both have lost their clawed booties, and they shake their heads clear as the camera zooms out and one brown-tipped hoof plants itself firmly in the foreground. Snap is clearly not amused by the amateurish deception, and Mane’s expression mirrors his when she arrives. An embarrassed little chuckle from Scootaloo draws their eyes as the camera zooms out to frame her a few paces back.)
Scootaloo: Guess you solved the mystery.
Mane: (pocketing notepad) We’d better get back. (trotting away; Snap follows) There’s a lot to get ready before the house goes up for sale tomorrow.
(Scootaloo lets her head droop with a downhearted moan. Wipe to a close-up of a wall calendar, with a particular Monday circled and all the days up to and including the preceding Friday crossed out. She leans into view and marks out Saturday with a pencil in her teeth, and a longer shot puts her in a bedroom whose contents have been loaded into boxes except for the bed and a dresser. All three Crusaders are here; she sits glumly on her haunches, the pencil drooping, while Bloom has a camera around her neck.)
Sweetie: Don’t worry, Scootaloo. We have a new plan to keep you in Ponyville.
Bloom: We just gotta show your parents we’re a set of three. Then they’ll have to let you stay here with us.
(She grabs the device and hits the shutter, filling the screen with its flash. When the glare clears, the view has shifted to a darkroom illuminated with dim red light. Snap has put away his own camera, and he transfers an empty box from his teeth to an unoccupied bit of tabletop. Placing a “bellows” camera inside, he reaches up to pluck down some snapshots that have been hung up to dry, but stops short after a glance down at the counter. Three as-yet-undeveloped pictures have been submerged in a tray of chemical solution; he nips these out, pins them on the line, and steps back. A different Crusader’s cutie mark appears on each photo, prompting a bit of puzzlement followed by a smile as something clicks in Snap’s mind.)
(Cut to Scootaloo’s bedroom; she has stowed her pencil and is closing a box, and Bloom no longer has her camera.)
Snap: (from hall) Scoot, are these yours?
(He steps in, pictures in teeth, and spreads them across the box top.)
Scootaloo: (smiling) Yeah! Thanks, Dad! We’re sending them to the Pony Book of Records.
Sweetie: We’re the only three ponies in Equestria with the same cutie mark.
Bloom: The chances of that are so rare. It means we belong together forever.
(All three pivot proudly to show off the shields on their haunches.)
Snap: Yeah, but you don’t have the same cutie mark. (Cut to them.)
Bloom: (scoffing) Uh, sure we do! (pointing to photos) Look!
Snap: (from o.s., pointing at Scootaloo’s photo) Well, this part is the same—
[Error: The order of the stripes on Bloom’s and Sweetie’s photos is reversed; this will be fixed in the next shot.]
(Close-up of the three snaps.)
Snap: (from o.s., pointing from one to another) —but the picture inside each of these is different. (All four again.) I think it means you’ll stay best friends no matter where you go, and that’s really special. (Out he goes.)
Scootaloo: But…we… (sighing, to Bloom/Sweetie) …how do you argue with that?
(These two exchange worried looks over her drooping head. Dissolve to the wall of satisfied past clients’ pictures in the trio’s clubhouse, tilting down slowly toward the lectern, and cut to a dispirited Scootaloo staring at them. She voices a heavy sigh as Sweetie looks on, not sure how to offer consolation; behind them, the door swings open to admit Bloom, saddlebags on back and determination in every particle of her bearing.)
Bloom: All right, y’all. (Zoom in quickly to a close-up.) Time to take things up a notch!
(Teeth go to one bag and extract a small bottle of purple liquid, which she sets on the floor, and all three cluster in around it.)
Scootaloo: With prune juice? (Close-up of it.)
Bloom: (from o.s.) It’s a potion I mixed up from Zecora’s book. (All three again.) Prune is only one of the ingredients.
Sweetie: What’s it do?
(The aspiring potion maker now pulls a book from her bags, rests it on the floor, and opens it.)
Bloom: (reading) “On this potion, please depend.
Any separation, mend.
(Cut to the other two, trading a smile; she continues o.s.)
Friends together ’til the end.”
(All three again.)
Bloom: We just gotta dab a little on our hooves. Sounds perfect, right?
Scootaloo: Better than perfect!
(Smiles broaden into grins as Sweetie levitates/uncorks the bottle and maneuvers it to dispense one drop each onto a yellow, orange, and white front hoof. The remainder is floated away toward a side table as the overall situation remains unchanged.)
Sweetie: Is something supposed to happen?
(She gets her answer when the three daubed forelegs vibrate wildly of their own accord like crazed tuning forks and pull in toward each other. A glowing pink rope materializes and wraps itself around the limbs, cinching them together and forcing the Crusaders into extremely close quarters.)
Sweetie: Is this the something that’s supposed to happen?
Bloom: The book didn’t really say.
(Their attempt to reach the door yields only a lot of wobbling/yelling and a three-way belly flop.)
Scootaloo: Thanks for trying, Apple Bloom, but I might as well face it. I’m gonna have to leave Ponyville. (They stand, one by one.)
Bloom: Don’t give up, Scootaloo. (lifting tied forelegs) This just gave me an even better idea how to keep you here! Come on! (They lurch toward the door…)
Crusaders: Whoooaaa!
(…and promptly topple o.s., landing with a thud. Pan slightly to frame them lying on the threshold.)
Sweetie: Maybe we’d better see Zecora about fixing this first.
(Dissolve to a close-up of the calendar from the wall of Scootaloo’s bedroom. Her pencil extends into view to cross out the Sunday immediately before the circled Monday; zoom out slightly as the writing implement is dropped. She has taken the calendar outside.)
Scootaloo: (over shoulder) We’re running outta time!
(Close-up of a shackle on a chain as Bloom snaps it onto one of her own hind legs, then cut to the base of a post as she clamps the other end around it. Scootaloo is similarly disposed, and a quick zoom out puts Sweetie right in there with them. The rope conjured up by the potion has been dispelled, and Bloom is no longer wearing her saddlebags. The post to which they are now anchored is supporting a “for sale” sign that points directly at Scootaloo’s house and has had a “sold” sticker slapped on.)
Scootaloo: This has to work!
(She stows her calendar as Mane and Snap emerge from the front door, respectively carrying a box and a set of saddlebags.)
Mane: Scootaloo, I know you’re having fun with your friends, but we need to get all our things to the station.
Snap: We can’t miss tomorrow’s train. It’s the only one for a month.
(Following a quick glance back at her friends, Scootaloo gathers her nerve.)
Scootaloo: Then you’ll just have to go without me! (Defiant stomp.) I’m staying with the CMC’s! (She sits on this last; the others do likewise in turn.)
Sweetie: We are chained to this post!
Bloom: And nothin’ and nopony is gonna move us! (A magic field uproots the sign, pulling it free of the shackles.) No matter…
(Longer shot, framing the necktie-wearing unicorn stallion who has just inadvertently derailed their protest—a real estate agent.)
Bloom: (deflated) …what.
(He walks off, towing the sign. A bit of silent strategizing on the adults’ part, and Snap crosses to the fillies with a smile.)
Snap: We just sold the house, Scoot. (Cut to him and Mane.) I know this is hard to accept, but just—
Scootaloo: (from o.s.) It’s more than hard! (Back to the Crusaders.) It’s not fair! (She stands.) You’re making me pick between my family and my friends!
Mane: (bending down, patting her) Oh, Scootaloo, moving away won’t stop you three from caring about each other. Why don’t you sleep over with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom tonight? It’ll give you a chance to say a real goodbye.
Scootaloo: (slapping her hoof away) But I don’t want to say goodbye! (sighing, tearing up, voice breaking) You’re changing my whole life without even asking how I feel!
(She gallops off sobbing, the other two heading after her, and all three sets of shackles fall clinking to the turf. Zoom in on Mane and Snap, who are perhaps starting to realize just how much of a wrench this is for their daughter, and fade to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the platform of the Ponyville train station and zoom in slowly. Its only occupant is Scootaloo, sitting on a bench with saddlebags slung up and spirits all the way down in her hooves. In close-up, she wipes away a few tears.)
Bloom: (from o.s.) Scootaloo!
(Pan slightly to frame her and Sweetie climbing onto the far end of the platform.)
Sweetie: Where are you going? (Scootaloo gets off the bench.)
Scootaloo: To stay with my aunts. You heard my parents. (wiping eyes) There isn’t another train to Shire Lanka for a month. If I’m not on it, they’ll have to go without me.
(The yellow filly gets an idea, and the white one picks up on it almost immediately afterward.)
Bloom: Then we’re comin’ with you!
Scootaloo: Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble.
Sweetie: Rarity won’t be mad.
Bloom: Applejack neither. I bet she’d do the same thing for her friends.
(Scootaloo smiles and throws herself across to hug both at once, her tears now those of joy.)
Scootaloo: You’re the best, you know that?
Bloom: We’re the best. (Hold out a hoof.)
Sweetie: Together!
(She puts one of her own against it, and Scootaloo piles on a third as the whistle of an approaching train makes itself heard. It pulls in, stops for only the briefest moment, and is gone again; behind its caboose, wipe to the Crusaders heading up the front walk of a sprawling house in the countryside as night falls. Scootaloo’s knock at the front door is answered by Holiday, who gasps happily upon spotting her niece.)
Holiday: Scootaloo! What a nice surprise. (Lofty shoulders her way up.)
Lofty: And I’ve got a surprise for you!
(The youngsters find themselves at a bit of a loss until she brings out the quilt she was working on in the prologue. Every square is now decorated, many of them with the cutie marks of ponies who have benefited from their interactions with the Crusaders. Tilt down slowly, putting Lofty out of view.)
Lofty: You three inspired me to finish my quilt. See? It’s Cutie Mark Crusader-themed. (Back to her and Holiday.)
Holiday: We love hearing the stories about all the ponies you’ve helped, so Lofty decided to celebrate the special job you three do. (Scootaloo sighs despondently as Sweetie grimaces.)
Lofty: (deflating slightly, putting quilt aside) It’s still a work in progress.
Scootaloo: It’s not your quilt we’re sad about, Auntie Lofty. Mom and Dad are back, and they’re making me move to Shire Lanka with them.
(Mild bafflement from the two mares when the camera cuts to them.)
Holiday: Snap and Mane are back? They didn’t tell me that.
Scootaloo: (from o.s.) Oh. (Back to the Crusaders.) I think the mail pony delivered your letter to my house.
(Dipping her head to her bags, she fishes out the postcard that Derpy dropped off in the prologue. It is passed to Holiday, who takes in hoof so she and Lofty can both read in close-up.)
Scootaloo: (from o.s.) I love my family— (Cut to frame all five.) —but I love being with my friends too. I don’t want to have to choose. (Holiday tucks the card away.)
Lofty: Well, then, why don’t your parents just stay in Ponyville? (Cut to the Crusaders.)
Scootaloo: (petulantly) Their job is too important. (Bloom thinks for a second and gets a brainstorm.)
Bloom: That’s it!
Sweetie: Is this another potion idea?
Bloom: No! Scootaloo’s parents are the only ponies in Equestria that can do what they do, right?
Scootaloo: (hesitantly) Right.
Bloom: Well, so are we! Our cutie marks prove it!
Sweetie: Yeah! Our job is to help other ponies find their purpose!
Scootaloo: And nopony else can do that! (Gasp.) So if my parents split us up, it’d be just as bad as them quitting their jobs!
Crusaders: Woo-hoo!
(Scootaloo and Sweetie trail off into bubbly laughter, but Bloom’s mood turns pensive.)
Bloom: Now how do we explain that to ’em?
Holiday: (from o.s.) Oh. (Cut to her and Lofty.) You don’t have to explain it… (Lofty unfurls her quilt.)
Lofty: …they will.
(Zoom in slowly on the patchwork and dissolve to the kitchen and front hall of Scootaloo’s house. She enters from outside, no longer hauling her bags, as her parents busy themselves with packing. It is now the following day.)
Mane: Feeling better, Scootaloo?
Scootaloo: A little. I just want to show you something before we go.
Snap: All right, but let’s make it swift. That train won’t wait.
(Scootaloo leads them in a gallop out the door; cut to the street as they turn to head down the block, then wipe to them coming to a stop among a cluster of other buildings. She smiles as both of them react with total shock.)
Snap: Sweet Celestia’s slippers!
(Cut to a long shot of the upper portion of the town hall and tilt down slowly. Both it and the entire square have been tricked out in the fillies’ honor: balloons, pennants, confetti, banners depicting them and their cutie marks, and a broad aisle leading to the front steps. It is lined thick on both sides with ponies—friends, neighbors, classmates, clients—and Gabby and Terramar have even come in from Griffonstone and Mount Aeris, respectively. Mayor Mare stands at a lectern placed on the porch, flanked by Rainbow on one side and Bloom/Sweetie on the other.)
Mane: (from o.s.) What is all this? (Rainbow lifts off; cut to them as she crosses the space.)
Rainbow: It’s Cutie Mark Crusader Appreciation Day! (landing) But we couldn’t start without all of them here.
(Mane and Snap trade confounded looks as Scootaloo clambers onto her honorary big sister’s back for a flight over the crowd, which breaks into a chant of “CMC’s! CMC’s!” This continues until Rainbow has deposited her at the steps to take her place with the other two fillies.)
Mayor Mare: These three ponies share a rare ability to help others find their true purpose. (Cut to them; she continues o.s.) It’s a job only they can do— (Mane and Snap edge closer.) —and only together.
Mane: (smiling, to Snap) That sounds familiar.
Mayor Mare: (from o.s.) In honor of all they have done— (Back to her.) —and continue to do for the ponies of this town, I would like to present the Cutie Mark Crusaders with a three-handled key to the city!
(She holds up this item as she finishes—an oversized gold key whose head consists of three horseshoes attached to the shaft in a spiral arrangement. The ensuing round of full-throated cheering takes the naturalists very much by surprise, and Mayor Mare passes the key down for the Crusaders to hold aloft. The accolades continue overhead, in the form of three flight-suited Wonderbolts—Spitfire, Soarin’, Fleetfoot—zooming through the sky and leaving red/pink/magenta smoke trails in their wake. Following a sharp upward turn, they cut the smoke, double back, and carve the streaks into the outline of the shield on the Crusaders’ marks. Mane and Snap boggle at the display.)
Snap: A full Wonderbolt salute! (Here come Holiday and Lofty; the smoke slowly dissipates. Lofty is no longer carrying her quilt.)
Holiday: Oh, I’m not sure you know just how important Scootaloo and her friends are, little brother.
Lofty: (pointing) But you’re about to find out.
(Mayor Mare steps aside to make room for Skedaddle at the lectern.)
Skedaddle: The CMC’s used their free time to set up a camp to help us blank flanks find our cutie marks.
(On the second half of this line, cut to three foals standing on the steps; as one, they pivot to show their brand-new marks. Back to him and the Crusaders after they have done so; Scootaloo is now holding the key.)
Skedaddle: The Cutie Mark Crusaders see the best in everypony, even when that pony can’t see it in themselves.
Snap: (scratching head) Well, I’ll be a three-tailed bandicoot. I had no idea how important Scoot’s club was.
Rainbow: Oh, it’s way more than just a club. The CMC’s have made a difference for everypony here.
Terramar: (touching down side by side with Gabby) And not just ponies. They help everycreature.
(Two taloned fists thump amiably against each other.)
Holiday: (pointing ahead) Whether it’s encouraging others to discover their special talent…
(On this line, cut to Tender Taps, the colt who found his love of dance with Bloom’s help in “On Your Marks.” He tosses off a quick flurry of tap steps; next the camera shifts to Big Macintosh and Sugar Belle. He blushes as they nuzzle together, and Diamond Tiara gives the Crusaders a respectful smile and wave, remembering what they did for her in “Crusaders of the Lost Mark.”)
Lofty: (from o.s.) …or inspiring them to do what’s in their heart… (All three smile warmly; Bloom waves back.)
Holiday: (from o.s.) …these three fillies offer the town something no other pony can.
(Back to her, Lofty, and the couple as she finishes. A train whistle sounds off in the distance, sparking indecisive glances between Mane and Snap and bone-deep fright from the Crusaders. Bloom and Sweetie each rest a comforting hoof against Scootaloo, dreading whatever might come next—and then Mane beckons with a hoof as she and Snap smile. Scootaloo passes the key off to Sweetie.)
Rainbow: (outraged) No way! (She flies into their faces.) After all that, you’re still gonna make her leave? (She touches down.)
Mane: We just want what’s best for Scootaloo. (walking past her with Snap) And until now, we thought we knew what that was.
(They stop at the bottom of the steps, facing the fillies, and Snap sighs quietly.)
Snap: Turns out you’re just like us, Scoot. (Close-up of her downcast face, which shifts to surprise as he continues o.s.) You have an important job that only you can do. (Pan/cut slowly through the appreciative crowd.) You love it, and it helps all of Equestria. (Back to him and Mane.)
Mane: Sometimes that means missing out on other things you love— (touching Snap’s shoulder) —like watching our daughter grow into a pony we’re very proud of.
Snap: Which is a long way to say…Scoot, if you want to stay, we understand.
(All three Crusaders break into smiles, Scootaloo gasping and glancing to the others as if to confirm that her ears are telling her true.)
Scootaloo: (tearing up) Really? (She dives off the porch and sweeps both parents into a hug.) Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Mom!
(Pan away from them a short distance to frame Holiday and Lofty. As the earth pony’s eyes brim up, the pegasus passes her a handkerchief to dry then and flicks away a tear of her own.)
Mane: (as Scootaloo backs off) Oh, sweetie, I’m just sorry we didn’t realize it sooner.
Snap: Our work is our life’s purpose. We could never quit, so there’s no way we can ask you to do the same.
Lofty: Maybe you shoulda thought of that before you sold the house. (“Uh-oh” looks from one parent to the other.)
Holiday: Lofty, don’t tease my brother. We already have a solution worked out. (A moment’s confusion from Mane and Snap.)
Lofty: Since the CMC’s make Ponyville such a nice place, we’ve decided to move here!
Holiday: You can live with us, Scootaloo, if you’d like.
Scootaloo: That would be amazing! (hesitantly, to Mane/Snap) Will you still come and visit?
Mane: (foreleg around shoulders) Of course!
Snap: (removing hat) Rabid bugbears couldn’t keep us away.
(The well-used headwear is plunked onto the magenta mane in close-up as he finishes, and all three share a gentle embrace. Bloom and Sweetie bound down from the porch, Sweetie no longer carrying the key.)
Bloom, Sweetie: (chanting, circling to Scootaloo) You get to stay here! You get to stay here! You get to stay here!
(Now it is the fillies’ turn for a group hug and laugh, but the earth pony and unicorn come out of it with great trepidation.)
Bloom: Uh, you are stayin’ here, right?
Scootaloo: Are you kidding? CMC’s forever!
(A whooping three-way high five touches off a new round of cheers among the spectators. Tilt up to the upper reaches of the town hall and its decorations lauding the triumvirate, then fade to black.)
BETWEEN DARK AND DAWN
Written by Gail Simone
Produced by Devon Cody
Story editing by Nicole Dubuc, Josh Haber
Supervising direction by Jim Miller
Directed by Denny Lu, Mike Myhre
Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)
Prologue
(Opening shot: fade in to a tract of land within the Sweet Apple Acres orchards. A series of o.s. impacts shakes the area hard enough to bring apples down from the trees, and a growing clatter of hooves heralds the arrival of Twilight Sparkle, her friends, and Spike. Rainbow Dash and the little dragon are the only two of the seven flying instead of galloping.)
Twilight: Remind me how this happened again?
(All stop short as a long, pale blue, tentacle-like appendage lashes down to uproot one tree and drag it away. A longer shot picks it out as the tongue of an enormous turtle, several times taller than the ponies and wide enough to block the path on which they stand. The hide is dark gray, the underbelly and beak in lighter hues, and its shell bears the striated greens of a springtime meadow, as well as clumps of trees and bushes. Daytime sky is visible above the behemoth as it chomps down the tree—leaves, apples, and all. Tilt up slowly.)
Applejack: And why there’s a giant turtle eatin’ my family’s entire summer crop?
Fluttershy: Oh, dear! (Rainbow lands.) Mr. Tortoise-Snap said he was hungry, but he promised me he would only take a few small bites.
Rainbow: (flying forward) I don’t think that thing knows what “small” is.
(The turtle—Mr. Tortoise-Snap—stomps ponderously toward the group, swallowing his mouthful and shaking the earth with every step. The prehensile tongue flicks out to grab another tree, wrapping around Spike as well; he is reeled in screaming along with it.)
Rarity: (darting ahead) Spikey-wikey!
(He can manage only another yelp as the great beaked mouth munches into the boughs. Cut to a long shot of a determined Twilight addressing the others and zoom in to a close-up.)
Twilight: Applejack and Pinkie… (Vertical panels of these two slide in to frame her.) …you distract him. Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Fluttershy…
(Triangular panels of these three slide in to cover them and fill the corners, leaving her visible at the center.)
Twilight: …let’s save Spike.
(Each pair/trio smiles fiercely as she issues their orders; the two groups peel off to opposite sides as Twilight charges up the middle. Pinkie Pie takes up a position halfway down Mr. Tortoise-Snap’s length and glances back toward Applejack, who nods in response as she backs up to a tree. A solid buck brings down a shower of apples, which the party aficionado catches and throws with blinding speed. It takes several seconds for the massive beast to stop chewing on the tree and look their way with a puzzled grunt; now Rainbow swoops in toward the head, carrying Rarity who is in turn towing a spool of ribbon. A few tight loops around the beak, and the designer has tied it shut with a large bow. These two peel out and are promptly replaced by an irate Fluttershy.)
Fluttershy: Mr. Tortoise-Snap, I’m only asking nicely once. Let my friend go!
(He grumbles and pulls in his tongue despite the bindings, and Fluttershy pats his beak to coax a smile out of him. The tree and Spike fall away, both liberally smeared with bluish saliva; Spike struggles in vain to deploy his befouled wings, but Twilight easily catches him and brings him down to the other four. She sets him down and curves back to Fluttershy almost in one motion.)
Twilight: And now a simple teleportation spell should— (She warms up her horn, but stops short as the area darkens under sudden shadow.)
Princess Celestia: (from o.s., imperiously) HALT, INTERLOPER!
(All eyes turn toward the sun, which is now partly blotted out by the hovering figures of this sovereign and her sister.)
Princess Luna: Stay back, friends! My sister and I will take care of the beast!
(They dive, strafing Mr. Tortoise-Snap with spells but not seeming to score any actual hits.)
Rainbow: (annoyed, landing next to Applejack/Pinkie/Rarity/Spike) All the times we’ve actually needed their help, and they show up for this?
(The two winged unicorns warm up their horns and corkscrew their way toward the top of the shell in opposite directions, finally releasing the magic in a blue/yellow detonation that vanishes its wearer without a trace.)
Twilight: (landing) That’s just what I was about to do! (Celestia and Luna descend.)
Luna: (laughing) Goodness, sister! That was fun! (Celestia grins; both fly to the group.)
Celestia: No need to thank us. To be honest, we’ve recently realized we like being part of the action.
Luna: Experiencing life instead of just dreaming about it.
Celestia: And making a difference outside the throne room.
(Both giggle lightly, not paying the slightest mind to the dumbstruck/distraught/hacked-off expressions on the spectators’ faces. Zoom in to a close-up of Twilight and Applejack.)
Applejack: (aside, to Twilight) Y’all think they’re gonna be doin’ this a lot?
(The resident Princess can only offer a brain-locked grimace. Fade to black.)
OPENING THEME
Act One
(Opening shot: fade in to a slow pan through Ponyville proper as residents go about their daily routines. The camera passes a bridge that spans the stream running through the town, and Fluttershy and her rabbit Angel begin to cross. Cut to an extreme close-up of yellow hooves and fuzzy white paws on the stones, one of which cracks loose and falls away under the pressure of a step, then to a longer shot as it splashes into the water. Fluttershy and Angel peer down through the gap; zoom in on them.)
Fluttershy: Oh, my! We’d better ask somepony to fix that hole. It seems very dangerous.
Luna: (from o.s.) Which is why…
(They glance up; cut to the royal sisters silhouetted against the sun.)
Luna: …we’re here!
(They launch themselves into a screaming dive, and Fluttershy barely has enough time to get herself and Angel back to dry land before they are at ground level. Luna’s magic heaves the entire bridge away, supports and all, and Celestia brings hers into play to replace it with a more ornate model. Ponies gather to see the end result, chattering and stomping applause as Celestia and Luna trade a high five. Fluttershy and Angel react with some bafflement, but the rabbit slaps on a big dopey grin and both hesitantly join in the ovation.)
(Wipe to the moon in the night sky and tilt down to an overhead shot of a forest path. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, sporting their Filly Guide uniforms as seen in “28 Pranks Later” along with a healthy degree of irritation, walk along as Rainbow zips back and forth up ahead and tries to make sense of the map she holds.)
Rainbow: (groaning) I-I can’t read this thing! (turning it, throwing it down) How am I supposed to lead a Filly Guides hike if the map makes us more lost? (A sudden strong wind sings along the path.)
Celestia: (from o.s.) Did somepony say… (Her silhouette and Luna’s descend from the moon on this last.) …“lost”?
Luna: Not for long!
(She laughs heartily as the two come around and train their power of their horns on a stand of trees just off the path. The four non-royals hit the dirt an explosion rips through the undergrowth; when the smoke clears, a campsite can be seen in a clearing immediately beyond. They stand up, just as bewildered as the Filly Guides who have already set up their gear, and Rainbow grimaces skyward toward the well-meaning “heroes.”)
(Wipe to the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner during the day. Pinkie stands at the counter, mixing a bowl of batter with a set of hoof-cranked beaters. She stops to lick them clean, but the sudden arrival of Mrs. Cake from outside startles her into getting her tongue caught in the rig.)
Mrs. Cake: Oh, now, this is just terrible! (Pinkie yanks free and shoves the beaters into the bowl.) Miss Cheerilee ordered cupcakes for school today, and I forgot to make the order!
Pinkie: Eh, no biggie. We can—
(Any further words are lost under a room-shaking crash and a blast of debris from the general direction of the door Mrs. Cake used. The dust clears to show the younger baker wearing a generous portion of it jammed around her neck and the older one hunched fearfully down behind the counter. Cut to Celestia and Luna, who are hovering in the very large hole they have just bashed in the wall.)
Celestia: Students going hungry? Not on our watch!
Luna: Let us bake, sister!
(They ignite horns and intertwine their left forelegs, straining a bit against one another as if hoof-wrestling, and the view shifts back to the counter. Mrs. Cake gapes at the regal intervention, but Pinkie voices a soft, shocked gasp as ingredients and tools float away under the pair’s influence. She reaches futilely to stop them, then shifts to a sullen grimace as globs of batter start flying. Dissolve to a long shot of the Castle and School of Friendship and zoom in slowly.)
Applejack: (voice over) And then they carried Granny Smith across the street!
(Cut to her, standing at the edge of the central table in the throne room. Its magical map is not on display.)
Applejack: There wasn’t even any traffic! (Fluttershy steps into view next to her.)
Fluttershy: It’s not that we don’t appreciate their help. (Here comes Rarity.)
Rarity: But suddenly Celestia and Luna seem to think we can’t do anything on our own! (Rainbow hovers to them.)
Rainbow: How are we supposed to learn to be rulers of Equestria with them fixing every teensy problem for us?
(Long overhead shot of the room. Pinkie sits in a throne near these four, and they are addressing Twilight and Spike. She stands at the opposite edge of the table, he on the table itself, and both he and Pinkie have put themselves back in order from their respective mishaps.)
Twilight: Maybe the Princesses changed their minds. (hunching down fearfully) Maybe they don’t think we’re up to the responsibility of protecting Equestria after all! (Close-up of her and Spike.)
Spike: (hovering off table, patting her head) Or maybe this week’s just a one-time thing that’ll never happen again.
(Referring to the sisters’ plan to eventually retire and put Twilight and company in charge of Equestria, as described in “The Beginning of the End.” She is booted out of her fretting by the sound of the doors opening and closing. Cut to the entrance, where Celestia and Luna have just arrived and are showing off a pair of devil-may-care grins.)
Celestia: Ah! A strategy meeting! What is the danger this time? A rampaging beast? Evil spell? Friendship problem?
Luna: We’re ready to do whatever we can.
Twilight: (with a slightly forced grin) Great. (They walk in.) But is something wrong? It’s just… (Spike lands.) …you’ve been helping us an awful lot, and we know you have way more important ruler-y things to do, so… (Pause.)
Luna: We’ve spent more than enough time in the throne room. Real life is happening out here.
Twilight: Wait. That’s what this is about? You’re…sick of being princesses?
Celestia: (as she and Luna cross to the table; all gather around, Spike hovering) Not exactly. Battling the Everfree Forest alongside Starswirl made us realize what we’ve missed out on.
(A flare of her magic brings up the map and sends a miniature sun arcing over it from one side to the other.)
Celestia: So instead of spending the day ruling… (Luna creates a moon to run the same path.)
Luna: …and the night patrolling dreams…
Celestia: …we wanted a chance to do the things you do. (She dispels the map.) Save the day! Adventure with friends! Shampoo anteaters. (Cut to her, Twilight/Fluttershy/Applejack, and Spike.)
Spike: I’m pretty sure Fluttershy’s the only pony that does that. (The yellow mare blushes; Rainbow zooms into the center of the gathering.)
Rainbow: Well, there are way more fun things to do than… (Dismissive chuckle.) …follow us around.
Pinkie: (from o.s.) Ooooh! (Cut to her and Rarity.) You should make a list of all the stuff you never tried but always wanted to! (She whips out a quill and a very long scroll.) There’s a lotta little things out there to do!
(Cut to the sisters; Celestia grasps both items in her magic, and both smile after a beat of intense pondering.)
Celestia: What an intriguing idea! (She drops them.) Only it’s much harder to justify a vacation from the castle when it’s not an emergency we’re responding to.
Twilight: (from o.s.) Don’t worry. (Cut to frame all nine.) We’ll cover your palace duties.
(Her friends and number-one assistant are definitely not prepared for this claim. Unfazed, she leads Celestia and Luna toward the doors.)
Twilight: It’ll be a good chance for us to practice for when you retire.
Luna: Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind the extra effort.
Twilight: Psssh!
Celestia: (overjoyed, patting her shoulder) Thank you, Twilight! What a relief to know the Royal Swanifying Ceremony is in good hooves. (She exits with Luna on the end of this, adding a laugh.)
Applejack: (to Twilight) The what, now?
(Dissolve to a balcony of Canterlot Castle. Celestia’s bedchamber is visible through the open doorway, and she paces while taking notes with a levitated quill/scroll. Zoom in slowly.)
Celestia: (dictating) “Fun not yet had.”
(Cut to within the room; Luna lounges on the bed.)
Celestia: (jittering in place) Ooh, I can’t wait to start planning our time off!
Luna: The chance to do whatever we want! (expectantly) And you know what that means.
(The screen splits diagonally, Celestia in upper left, Luna in lower right. The next two lines overlap.)
Celestia: Adventure!
Luna: Relaxation!
(Both pairs of eyes pop in surprise, the panels sliding away to frame them in fullscreen again. Celestia’s energy rolls up the scroll and vanishes it and the quill.)
Luna: W-Well, it’s just that I— (Jump down from the bed.) —I spend each night in everypony’s intense dreams, so I could use some real-world downtime.
Celestia: (laughing gently) I understand. But for me, every day is real-world. Meetings and decrees and meetings about decrees and decrees about the meetings…I crave excitement!
Luna: (hesitantly) Uh, I’m…not sure how we can both be happy. (smiling, revitalized) Unless… (Celestia matches her with a gasp.)
Celestia: …we take turns doing what we like!
Celestia, Luna: (high-fiving) Sister trip!
Luna: And I have the perfect accessories for us to wear! Wait right here!
(She vacates the premises in a pop of blue light and returns in like manner in an eyeblink, holding two garish flowered shirts folded against her chest. These are unfurled and lifted in her magic, causing the older sister’s features to shift into a look of mild horror at the prospect of having to actually put one on. However, she quickly hides her reaction behind a big shaky smile.)
Celestia: Oh! (Laugh.) We’ll be…twinsies. (Luna giggles through her teeth and trots in place, a ball of nerves.)
Luna: Just like regular pony tourists. (She pulls one shirt toward herself.) I knew you’d love it.
Celestia: I have a few things for us too.
(As she flies o.s., Luna drops to her haunches and pulls the garment on over her head while letting the other crumple to the floor. The Princess of the Night gets a very big surprise in the form of a fully packed bundle of camping equipment being flung her way. She catches this, nowhere close to figuring out the rationale for it, and the camera cuts to just behind her. Celestia has returned with a second pack, a big grin, and a pair of sunglasses that she floats into place on her own face.)
Celestia: Sunglasses! Bug spray! Ice boots! Hoof sanitizer! And travel snacks!
(Each item after the first is brought up in her aura as she names it, with a burst from the spray and a dose of the sanitizer poured onto a gold-shod hoof, and the shades end up propped on her forehead as she finishes. The snacks are in a small bag, which is promptly torn open and the contents emptied onto a hoof for Luna’s consideration in close-up—a pile of small nuggets. Lick up a few, chew, swallow, and gag at the taste; zoom out slightly to frame Celestia, who has removed her sunglasses and set her pack aside.)
Celestia: You have to add water. What do you think?
Luna: (smiling, pulling her close; the snacks spill away) It’s perfect, sister.
(Celestia is just a hair caught out at this opinion, but readily smiles and returns the hug. Dissolve to the city’s main gates, standing open with their drawbridge lowered across the river. The sisters are on their way out, wearing the shirts and with packs on backs. Celestia has tied her mane into a loose ponytail that still billows on its own, while Luna has opted for a more compact one; both have gathered their tails into a bun and shed all of their regalia. Twilight and company have come to see them off, including Spike, and two Royal Guard troops are standing watch.)
Celestia: And here are instructions of how to prepare for the Royal Swanifying.
(Her telekinesis plucks a scroll from her gear and drops it into Spike’s hands.)
Twilight: If it’s written down, I’m sure we can handle it. Have fun.
Luna: One more thing. We’re leaving you in charge of raising the sun and moon while we’re gone.
(Collective gasp of disbelief from the Ponyville bunch, followed by Twilight’s very uneasy, near-inaudible giggle. On the next line, Celestia floats out a round device resembling a makeup compact, with a merged sun and crescent moon on its case and a red gem at the sun’s center.)
Celestia: We have put a small part of our power in this amulet. (Cut to Twilight/Spike; she continues o.s. and moves it closer.) You can activate it with your magic at any time.
(It ends up resting on the violet Princess’s hoof as she finishes and receives an apprehensive look from the purple eyes.)
Celestia: (leaning into view) Preferably dawn and dusk. (Twilight offers a shaky grin; she backs off and Pinkie leans in.)
Pinkie: Ooooh! That’s not a terrifying level of responsibility or anything.
(Twilight throws her a nasty over-shoulder glare before stepping confidently forward.)
Twilight: We won’t let you down, Princesses.
(They grin at each other over this reassurance, Luna trotting giddily in place to boot, and both put their tails to the gates and get on the road. Once they are far enough out of range, Twilight stops waving after them and turns nervously to Spike, having stowed the amulet.)
Twilight: Please tell me that scroll says what the Royal Swanifying is! (He opens it and reads.)
Spike: Apparently it’s a celebration of all the swans in the royal lake. (A few drift up to the drawbridge.) We round ’em up, parade ’em through the streets, and finish with a party in the castle.
(The birds let go with a burst of grating squawks, scaring him away from the edge and back toward the others.)
Rainbow: One question. Why?!?!?
Twilight: It doesn’t matter. This is our chance to show Celestia and Luna we’ll do whatever the job requires. If they can take care of all this themselves, then I know we can—together. (Next two lines overlap.)
Fluttershy: Um…hmm.
Rarity: (halfheartedly) Ah. Jolly good. (The ponies head into Canterlot.)
Spike: (dryly, flying after them) You are definitely not reading the scroll I am.
(Fade to black.)
Act Two
(Opening shot: fade in to Celestia and Luna on the move, with Canterlot visible in the distance behind them. Luna has retrieved the list Celestia started and is holding it open in her magic to run an eye over it. Pan slowly to follow them and put the opulent city out of view.)
Celestia: Remember, sister, from now on we are regular carefree ponies!
(But the behavior of others in the area puts the lie to her words. Murmurs of excitement ripple up and down the way, a pegasus stallion plummets out of the air and lands on his back in an enraptured swoon, and a mare hefts a camera to take a picture. Profile close-up of Luna.)
Luna: We’re leaving the princess life behind, and we’re not even going to fly!
(Zoom out quickly on this last word, Celestia having been caught in the process of lifting off. She plants her hooves back on the path with a sheepish smile.)
Celestia: Of course. (laughing) How new and different! (poking Luna’s nose) It’s just like Pinkie Pie said.
Jaunty banjo/mandolin melody with bass guitar, light percussion/woodwinds, acoustic guitar/brass accents; bright 4 (B flat major)
Celestia: There’s a lotta little things you gotta do in this world
(Luna shows off the full length of the scroll.)
Luna: There’s a lotta little things you gotta try
(The parchment is swung toward the camera so that it fills the screen. One line of writing straightens out into a gentle curve, and a dissolve turns it into a meadow path along which the sisters are trotting. The pronounced curvature of the land remains, as if Equestria were a very small planet, and they pass individuals who have figured prominently in various past episodes.)
Celestia: Just a pack of punchy plunges other ponies all take
Luna: That a princess pony passes right by
Strings in
(Dragon Lord Ember flies past the camera in close-up; behind her, the view wipes to a cottage set up as a tourist attraction. The sisters gallop toward it, and in short order a unicorn stallion is carving a wooden statue of them—with Celestia’s likeness sporting a set of comically protruding, uneven teeth.)
Celestia, Luna: Nopony knows you like your little sister
(Noting Celestia’s less-than-amused look, Luna gets the hammer and chisel in her magical grip and touches up the statue to be a little more realistic.)
Nopony is a better confidant
(Pan quickly to Celestia; she levitates a camera and, after a bit of coaxing, snaps a picture of Luna posing in front of a giant wooden horseshoe as if straining to lift it. Both have set their packs aside.)
Nopony is truer than the one you are
(Luna telekinetically plucks several postcards from a rack in a gift shop, only to get one end of an oversized shoe looped around her neck. It is under Celestia’s control, and she uses it to pull Luna in for a laugh.)
Nopony else here I could want
Strings out; handclaps in
(One picture a time is dropped into view to fill the screen. Celestia facing down a bugbear as Luna watches through binoculars… the two sisters, now grown to giant size, menacing city-dwelling ponies on land and in air…attired as glamorous socialites, they pose for the crowd on a flatbed wagon pulled by an impassive chauffeur/bodyguard. From this last, cut to Celestia in full princess mode, looking out from the open gates of Canterlot. She steps forward, but is stopped by a portcullis crashing down and the drawbridge being pulled up.)
Celestia: You can’t saunter on a sojourn hid behind castle walls
(Luna, hovering on a beach, conjures up her throne and sits; it sinks wholly into the sand, taking her with it.)
Luna: You can’t throw a throne down on the beach
(Close-up of Celestia, back in vacation mode and relaxing against piles of peaches as her magically held quill checks off an item on the list. She rolls it up as the camera zooms out to frame Luna playing a banjo; the peaches are in a fully loaded wagon being hauled along, and they have hitched a ride.)
Celestia: So we’re gonna be absconding
Luna: Do a little vagabonding
Celestia: And this bucket list is gonna be a peach
(Her energy snags one fruit and brings it up for an indulgent chomp, and more of them rain past the camera to wipe the view to a dark cavern. In close-up, Luna has donned a vest and a hard hat with a headlamp and is entranced by a family of bats hanging upside down from the ceiling. Celestia, similarly equipped, leans into view from farther back and waves to get her attention. Both have shed their packs.)
Strings in; handclaps out
Celestia, Luna: Nopony knows you like your older sister
(Pan quickly to them, caving gear gone and shirts/packs on as they marvel at the sights of the Bridleway theater district in Manehattan at night. Celestia gallops away without warning; cut to her in a toy store, levitating every oversized stuffed animal in sight toward herself as a fluffy cocoon. Luna smirks at the extent of her sister’s plush-infused silliness.)
Nopony is a better confidant
(Several of them tumble down, wiping the view to the pair attending an outdoor magic show in Las Pegasus. Big Bucks and Jackpot, the performers who appeared in “Grannies Gone Wild,” send up a cascade of vivid fireworks that burst to form flashing gems and outlines of the two royals in the night sky.)
Nopony is truer than the one you are
Nopony else here I could want
Half-time feel
(Dissolve to them trotting across Equestria, rendered in its small-planet version. Celestia has quill and list in her magic as Luna takes a picture with the camera in hers.)
Celestia, Luna: There’s a lotta little things you gotta try in this world
(Put the camera away; Luna’s energy starts to flag and she slows to a walk, Celestia racing ahead.)
There’s a lotta little things you gotta see
(Luna arrives at a riverbank and drops to her haunches; the gear is laid down and a book is floated up.)
Luna: But just reading by a river and resting our hooves
Would practically be perfect for me
(She barely has time to open the cover before a white hoof drags her bodily away.)
Half-time feel ends (C major)
(Pan quickly to the Princesses riding the Wild Blue Yonder roller coaster in Las Pegasus, as seen in “Grannies Gone Wild.” Celestia is loving every high-velocity thrill, but Luna would be scared clean out of her socks if she were wearing any.)
Celestia, Luna: Nopony knows you like your sister
(They rocket pas the camera, triggering a wipe to a theatrical performance before a packed house, which they are watching from a private box. Celestia is bored out of her gourd, but Luna is absolutely engrossed in the drama and dries her eyes on the billowing, ponytailed mane.)
Nopony is a better confidant
(Wipe to a very scared, life-jacketed, helmeted Luna sitting in an open barrel as a waterfall thunders behind her—Neighagara Falls, as seen in “Once Upon a Zepplin.” A similarly attired and situated Celestia claps on the lid to seal her in, then floats a lid onto her own barrel as a goat attendant steps up.)
Nopony is truer than the one you are
(Inside the barrel, Luna fears for the worst and gets it in the form of an impact that tumbles her head over hooves.)
Nopony else here I could want
Handclaps in
(Zoom out slowly from the entire natural wonder. Water gushes over the screen and drains to show a tranquil stretch of river at the base of the falls. A second goat pushes a barrel onto dry land with its head, while the tops fly off two others bobbing in the current. Celestia emerges perfectly dry and ready for more, but Luna half-falls out as a sopping-wet mess and finds herself being dragged along in a nimbus of sunny yellow magic. Cut to a stretch of ocean; the two mares plunge below the surface, now clad in swimwear, and find themselves ringed in by grinning sharks that throw a scare into only Luna.)
Celestia: You can’t venture on adventures if you’re taking a nap
(One passes the camera; wipe behind it to a close-up of an uneasy Luna in helmet, harness, and vest. In her teeth is a bar attached to a rope, similar to those used by water skiers. Zoom out to frame Celestia similarly kitted out; the two are taking a midair ride on the backs of a squad of flight-suited Wonderbolts.)
You can’t check things off your checklist while you sleep
(Luna loses her nerve and grabs at the back of her “mount,” setting off a massed dive. Clouds fill the screen and clear to show the two back in their shirts and packs, starting into a rocky uphill climb; Celestia carries the list in her field and darts ahead as Luna plods wearily along.)
Celestia: So let’s take another hill
Luna: Sometimes you can be a pill
B flat major
And why’s the way ahead always so steep?
Song ends with a stinger (Luna collapses at the same time)
(Dissolve to the throne room in Canterlot Castle, the camera trained on the closed doors at the end opposite the seats of power. These are opened in a magical grip to reveal three unicorns standing just outside: Fancypants, Jet Set, and Upper Crust.)
Fancypants: (stepping in) Princesses, we are here to—
(He stops short, the monocle dropping from his shocked eye, and the others ease in.)
Fancypants: Oh.
(Cut to just behind him, framing Twilight and company gathered at the base of the dais. Rainbow hovers a few feet up, and Spike is going over the scroll Celestia left the group upon her departure.)
Applejack: Well, we’re fillin’ in for Their Majesties. (The visitors advance, Fancypants using magic to run a polishing cloth over his monocle.) What can we help y’all with?
Fancypants: I say, how irregular. (He pockets the cloth and sets the lens back in place.) Well, then. We offer our assistance as heads of the Royal Swanifying Committee.
Rarity: Ah! What a relief! (Twilight shoots her an annoyed look, then faces forward with a smile.)
Twilight: Thank you, but we have it all covered.
Fancypants: (unconvinced) Really? (adjusting monocle) Well, good luck with that.
(Exeunt the trio, turning their noses up disdainfully and leaving seven unnerved Ponyville residents on/above the red carpet. The one with wings and a horn quickly finds puzzled/flabbergasted/angry looks on the faces of the other six.)
Twilight: If we ask for help, it’s just like admitting we’re not as good at the job as Luna and Celestia are. Besides, how hard can throwing a swan party be?
Pinkie: (hopping to Spike, grabbing scroll with forelock) Yeah! All we have left to do is— (rapid fire, skimming it) —polish the armor, bubble the punch, glitter the carpets, puff the pastry, float the floats, and carpet every road in Canterlot. (The others are completely floored by this list of tasks; she resumes at normal speed.) Should I keep reading?
(The degree of vexation that the others are directing toward Twilight rises noticeably, but she has only a nervous little giggle as a counter. Dissolve to a close-up of Luna uneasily lowering the sister’s to-do list, held in her horn’s light, as she stands next to Celestia somewhere in the great outdoors.)
Luna: Uh, Celestia? Since we’re both a little tired— (Zoom out slowly.) —maybe the first thing we do shouldn’t be too wild?
Celestia: Exactly what I was thinking.
(Neither is wearing her pack in this shot. Cut to the older sister in vest/helmet and riding across a canyon on a…)
Celestia: ZIIIIIP LIIIIINE!!
(Behind her comes a freaked-out Luna wearing her own rig. Wipe to a souvenir stand, where a unicorn mare floats a shirt off a line for her earth pony friend to look over. Both are wearing vests, but not helmets. Confusion spreads from one face to the other, and a zoom out discloses the reason: Luna, staggering dizzily toward the display. They back away as she clutches at an awning post for support and levitates her helmet off, exposing the disheveled state of her ponytail and forelock. A coffee mug drifts up to her eye level, held in her sister’s power; she grimaces upon getting a good look, and the camera cuts to a close-up of her own photo printed onto the ceramic. She has been captured in mid-ride, lips and eyelids peeled back by the rushing winds.)
Celestia: (pulling it back, her helmet gone) Now every time we have tea, we can remember this magical day!
(She brings out a second mug emblazoned with her own, speed-distorted, considerably happier countenance. Luna turns hastily away and floats up the list and quill to mark off an item.)
Luna: Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. (Vanish both items.) But now we’re going to do something I’ve always wanted to do, but never could because of my night shift.
(Celestia hugs her close, bringing over the Luna mug and a teddy bear and jamming a baseball cap onto the blue-violet head so that the horn punches through.)
Celestia: (eagerly) Is it another zip line? (Long pause.)
Luna: Nn-no.
(Wipe to the pair in the Ponyville post office, shirts on and packs gone; her mane is back in order, the cap is gone, and she is considerably more enthused than Celestia as they wait in line. A brown/white-uniformed Derpy Hooves is working the counter.)
Luna: It’s the post office! (Trot in place.)
Celestia: It is indeed.
(A pegasus stallion enters, but skids openmouthed to a stop upon getting a good look at them and backs cautiously away.)
Luna: Just think! All the mail in Ponyville goes through here! Isn’t that amazing?
(She claps a postcard onto the counter as Derpy slots a letter into the rack behind her. The crossed amber eyes widen upon recognizing just exactly who the customer is.)
Luna: One stamp, please!
(Celestia glance away in a mildly disgruntled fashion, but Derpy salute and rummages around the counter, sending a hailstorm of office supplies up past Luna’s grinning face. The requested item is produced, and Luna’s field brings it up so she can lick it and affix it to the card. Derpy gets the piece of correspondence in her teeth and passes out of sight into the depths of the post office.)
Luna: (expectantly) Wait for it…
(Celestia levitates a pocket watch whose ticking rings out loudly as she scrutinizes its face. After a few seconds, the sound of an opening door is heard and a blue-uniformed unicorn delivery stallion enters. The watch is put away, and he produces a stack of letters from his saddlebags using his aura, sorts through them, and comes up with a card that he passes for Celestia to take in hers. He leaves to return to his duties as she flips it, the picture giving it away as the one Luna just sent.)
Celestia: You didn’t need a stamp if you were just going to give this to me.
Luna: (proudly) Yes, but I didn’t give it to you. A mail pony took it from me, searched to find who it was meant for, and gave it to you!
(She ends with a two-hoofed poke at Celestia’s chest.)
Luna: It’s about the process!
(Elder sister just rolls her eyes at this grandiose treatment of such a mundane institution. Wipe to a dim cavern whose walls/floor/ceiling are studded with fearsomely sharp stone projections. Celestia ad Luna descend into view in the far distance, harnessed to ropes and wearing vests and headlamp-fitted hard hats instead of their shirts/packs.)
Celestia: (echoing) Did you know that nopony has ever explored the bottom of these caverns?
(The whole place shakes to the tune of a grating roar; close-up of them, stones grinding together in the background like gnashing teeth.)
Luna: (dryly) I wonder why.
(Many more extend into view to block them from site. Wipe to an extreme close-up of the Princess of the Night as a cluster of tiny, multicolored diamonds is painted below one eye.)
Luna: I have always wanted to try this!
(Longer shot: she is in the hot-tub room of the Ponyville Spa, being waited on by Bulk Biceps and Lotus, and has ditched her spelunking equipment in favor of a radical makeover. The mane and tail have both had light blue streaks dyed into them and are teased out and loosely tied back with brightly hued scrunchies; neon-colored bracelets adorn the forelegs, a matching necklace hangs at the throat, and the hind legs sport fur-trimmed warmers. She leaps from the massage chair on which she has been reclining and strikes pose after pose as spotlights play across her form.)
Luna: Isn’t this wonderful, sister?
(A flare of light fills the screen and clears to give an extreme close-up of the white face, not at all in a good mood as a teardrop is painted on below one eye. A zoom out puts her in another one of the massage chairs, with Aloe tending to her: jagged purple shoes on all four hooves, a matching studded collar, mane/tail straightened out and dyed in streaks of blue-violet and dark gray, multiple ear piercings.)
Same melody as earlier song, but played on banjo, bass guitar, muted brass with string accents
Slower 4 (B flat major)
(The open list is pulled past the camera; behind its trailing edge, wipe to Luna peeking fearfully over the edge of a cloud. Celestia hurls herself into empty air with gusto, wrapping her sister in a telekinetic aura and dragging her along for the ride. Both are wearing helmets and vests along with their new duds.)
Celestia: There’s a lotta little things you gotta do in this world
(They splash into a body of water; Celestia celebrates the dive, but a discomfited Luna floats her helmet off to find her mane a dripping mess. Both sisters’ face paint has run down their cheeks.)
Luna: There’s a lotta little things you oughta view
(Pan quickly to her, dried out and wearing her shirt; she stares ahead, intently pondering something that proves to be an abstract painting in an art gallery when the camera cuts to behind her. Celestia, also in her tourist garb, sits on a bench and dozes off, leaning against the nearest mare and knocking a brochure from her hooves. The latter grins shakily and yanks out a camera to capture the moment.)
Celestia: And our “little lotta” lists may be a little bit long
(The flash fills the screen and clears to show Celestia in harness, vest, and headlamp/hard hat, doing a little rock climbing. A line runs down from her rig; tilt down to frame Luna dangling unwillingly from its lower end and wishing she could be anywhere else.)
Luna: (sighing) And might take a lotta bother to do
Light percussion in
(Pan quickly to the two travelers in shirts and packs, picking their way along a downhill jungle trail. Luna’s horn-power brings the rolled list from her bags and passes it up front for Celestia to unroll it with hers.)
Celestia, Luna: But I’m sure it gets better later on
Celestia: And after darkest night, a new dawn
(Luna exerts power to pull it back.)
Luna: It’s my turn to do the choosing
(Celestia takes it again; Luna grimaces.)
Celestia: After river rapid cruising
(A tug-of-war ensues.)
Celestia, Luna: This adventure isn’t too fun to be
(It splits down the middle, leaving both to topple backward, off the opposite edges of a small spit of land where they have stopped, and into a muddy swamp.)
On
Song ends
(They turn their faces pointedly away from one another. Dissolve to a Canterlot Castle ballroom, which Twilight and the gang are busily setting up for a full-scale shindig. Spike is checking items off on a clipboard he holds, and Twilight positions a bicycle pump with her field and puts hooves to work on the handle. Its discharge hose runs into a large basin full of punch, and her exertions cause masses of air bubbles to rise to the surface. The doors behind her are magically opened to admit Fancypants, Jet, and Upper.)
Fancypants: Princess Twilight! (They step in; she stops pumping and turns to them.) It has come to our attention that you don’t intend to serve watercress as the Royal Swanifying Ceremony!
Twilight: There’s not enough in the castle kitchens to— (She falls quiet at his raised hoof.)
Fancypants: Don’t tell me, tell him!
(He steps aside on the end of this to show a fourth member of his “committee”: a swan that voices its displeasure with a string of loud squawks. The resident Princess cringes at the sound; cut to just outside one window as Fancypants leads her over to it.)
Fancypants: And you must do something about the garbage piling up outside!
(As he finishes, the camera zooms out to expose a massive accumulation of unsavory refuse—bagged, in cans, and loose—in the castle courtyard. Having drawn clouds of flies, it stands perhaps three times as tall and broad as the two work-vested, hard-hatted ponies standing in front of it with protest signs in hoof. Two others wearing tool belts stand and stare impatiently at them; one of these has a plank slung over one shoulder.)
Fancypants: The street sweepers are on strike, and the royal carpeters can’t do their jobs!
(The piece of wood is thrown down in disgust; back to Twilight/Applejack/Pinkie in the ballroom.)
Applejack: (to Pinkie) Did you even know there were royal street carpeters?
Fancypants: (from o.s.) Oh, dear.
(Pan to him, Rarity, and a hovering Spike at a snack table; the dragon has ditched his clipboard. Fancypants’s magic pulls at the tablecloth hem.)
Fancypants: (disdainfully, dropping it and dusting off his coat) I do hope those aren’t the final decorations for the gala. (Rarity and Spike start, affronted.)
Rarity: How rude!
Twilight: Thank you for your constructive criticism— (levitating him/Jet/Upper out) —but we really don’t have time to chat, so…
(The great doors are slammed shut behind the alarmed unicorns as she waves goodbye, but any feigned cordiality goes out the window with one jittery glance toward the room. Dissolve to Celestia and Luna, cleaned up from their mishap in the swamp and sitting sourly on a picnic blanket in a clearing. They have their backs to one another and pointedly avoid even the briefest of eye contact, sparing backward glances only for the basket resting between them so they can levitate sandwiches out of it. Zoom in slowly and cut to Celestia swallowing a bite.)
Celestia: (sarcastically) Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself on your super-relaxing picnic, sister. (She chomps into her sandwich; Luna stands up with a scoff.)
Luna: I would be— (pivoting to show burrs matted across her haunch) —if you hadn’t made us hike through a million prickle bushes!
(Her field picks one loose as she speaks; Celestia’s then rips others away to set off a groan of discomfort.)
Celestia: (turning to her, dropping sandwich) Well, they hurt less than that horrible howling you dragged us to!
Luna: (floating up a picture of an opera singer) That was Ponygliacci, and it’s an opera!
(She storms back to her side of the blanket, leaving Celestia to snatch the sheet down and glower after her.)
Luna: (sitting, back to Celestia) And you made us leave early even though it was still my turn! (Up come the parts for another sandwich.)
Celestia: Oh, just face it, Luna! (standing, stomping) You are never happy! (The food falls to the blanket; Luna stands and rounds on her. Zoom in slowly.)
Luna: Because you don’t want me to be happy. I always have to do things your way. I bet you wish I’d never come back so you could still rule day and night!
Celestia: (scoffing, stomping) You think I like that kind of pressure? Being responsible for every little thing in Equestria and you? What I’d like is a SISTER I CAN DEPEND ON!
(These last five words are delivered in the booming Royal Canterlot Voice; all capitalized words in the next four lines are similarly spoken.)
Luna: (mane falling free) YOU MEAN BOSS AROUND?
Celestia: CALM DOWN, LUNA!
Luna: NO! And don’t you dare use your Canterlot Voice on me! I think this adventure would be better if I did it by MYSELF! (She puts her back to Celestia.)
Celestia: FINE! (magically re-packing basket, voice shaking) I just remembered something I forgot I always wanted to do.
(She lifts off just enough to let her power spread over the blanket, yank it out from under Luna, and fold/pack it away.)
Celestia: (flying off with basket) Be alone! (Luna trudges away.)
Luna: (voice breaking, tearing up) Guess we have the same thing on both of our lists, then!
(Tears start to run down the blue-violet cheeks. Fade to black.)
Act Three
(Opening shot: fade in to the upper reaches of the Canterlot Castle ballroom, now hung thick with red banners. Rainbow frantically flies across to string up a two-tone blue one; from here, tilt down to frame the rest of the Ponyville contingent, sans Pinkie, working full tilt to reset the gathering space. Twilight positions a table and sets a basket on it, and Applejack pitches a load of assorted fruits into this and bucks in one last loose apple.)
Applejack: (calling across room) Pinkie! You got those appetizers yet?
(Pan quickly to the heretofore-missing mare, who is working a giant masher like a pogo stick to pulverize a tub full of avocados. A crate and bag of spares are on hand, as is a large bowl of tortilla chips.)
Pinkie: STILL MASHING THE GUACAMOLE!!
(Rarity gallops past, a pair of glittery tablecloths moving under her control, and arrives at a table on which Spike is standing to lay out silverware. Its cloth is yanked out, leaving him a whirling, yelling blur in midair, and he comes down on his belly and ends up covered by one of the replacements.)
Rarity: So we’re just going to have to do with sequins!
Fluttershy: (from o.s.) Um, sorry for the bad news, but…
(Cut to her, holding a basket of flowers and hovering to point out a window.)
Fluttershy: …the courtyard is full of swans waiting to get in!
(Twilight moves up for a closer look and is promptly greeted with a flock of the angry, honking birds. Rainbow loops down to her.)
Rainbow: And we’re nowhere near ready!
Twilight: How do Celestia and Luna rule a kingdom and get all this done by themselves every year?
(A rich chuckle from the o.s. Fancypants cuts in; the three turn in its direction and find him reading a newspaper at one of the tables.)
Fancypants: Oh, how droll. (Spike flies over.)
Spike: Uh, what’s the funny part, exactly?
Fancypants: (folding/setting paper down, crossing to them) The Princesses never do all the ceremony planning by themselves.
Twilight: They…don’t?
Fancypants: Oh, goodness, no. (magically stirring/lifting a cup of tea) That’s what the gala planning committees are for. Nopony could handle all this.
(Taking an indulgent sip, he extends his field to pull up a section of the tablecloth and peers closely at it.)
Fancypants: Are those…sequins? (The others gather in around Twilight.)
Rarity: Still rude.
Twilight: Ooh! New plan, everypony! We’re going to delegate!
(Zoom in to a close-up of her fiercely grinning face on this last word, then cut to a long overhead shot of the courtyard. The trash piles have multiplied, and swans are milling around in the chaos of strikers and onlookers. Twilight and company pour out onto the balcony; close-up of a mortified Upper.)
Rainbow: (from o.s.) Uh, you! (She flies into view.) You’re on food duty!
(The snobby are tosses off a nod and trots to it; meanwhile, Rarity jumps down the last few steps of a flight to stop in front of Jet.)
Rarity: I need gemstones! (Smiling, he gallops off.) And purple satin!
(Fluttershy places herself in just the right spot for Fleur to back up into her.)
Fluttershy: (guiding her away) Tell the ponies at the gates that there’s a slight delay on the gala! Oh, um, if it’s not too much trouble, I mean.
(She trots placidly over to Applejack and one of the fetid mountains.)
Applejack: Uh, now who can we get to clean up all this garbage?
(A couple of thundering impacts very nearly shake them off their hooves; cut to a close-up of Pinkie riding atop some curved craft.)
Pinkie: (singsong) I’m delegating!
(Zoom out quickly to a long shot of the mare and her conveyance—Mr. Tortoise-Snap, the cause of this new commotion. She sits on the leading edge of the massive turtle’s shell as he calmly chows down on the trash. Twilight les her eyes rove across the courtyard and finds that the bedlam is rapidly being brought under control, and a quietly smiling Fancypants steps up without his newspaper or tea.)
Twilight: So this is how you rule Equestria!
(The dapper stallion offers a small nod of approval. Dissolve to Luna relaxing on a beach chair, her shirt/pack gone and her mane tied back again; a pair of sunglasses rest on one arm. She accepts a drink from a waiter, holding it in her magic, and takes a long pull from its straw before setting it on the other arm and leaning back with a contented sigh, forelegs behind head.)
Luna: (floating shades on) Things are so much more relaxing without my bossy sister.
(She is jolted out of her blissful reverie by the passage of two laughing mare/filly pairs whose similar colorations suggest close blood relationships. Extreme close-up of the black lenses, which reflect the first pair having fun building a sand castle at the shore. Luna lowers them with a hoof, exposing two incredulous blue-green eyes, and she turns glumly away from the activity in a longer shot.)
(Wipe to Celestia and a mare in mid-skydive, both clad in helmets, jumpsuits, and packed parachutes on backs; Celestia is also wearing goggles.)
Celestia: Who needs a gloomy sister moping around all the time, anyway?
(Her partner taps the side of her own helmet and shrugs to indicate that she has not been able to hear a word of this. Celestia fires up her horn to pull her ripcord and is yanked upward by the force of air resistance against her opening chute. The other deploys hers after falling several hundred feet more, giving Celestia an exceptionally clear view of her and Luna’s grinning/laughing faces on its canopy. The white Princess voices an annoyed little huff.)
(Wipe to a close-up of Luna sitting bolt upright in bed with a cry of pain, no longer wearing her shades. The area around her nose and mouth is tinged an angry red, and a similar hue stains the tips of her ears and traces down the length of her throat. A longer shot puts her in a hospital bed and covered with red patches; a unicorn nurse mare has brought in jars of cotton balls and a bowl of ointment and is deploying these items in her magic to dress the injuries.)
Nurse: Honestly, Princess, didn’t you wear any sunblock?
Luna: That’s a thing? (Sigh.) Celestia would’ve warned me—if she were here.
(Major-league sunburn, then. She flops miserably onto her belly and covers her head with her pillow. This move exposes a huge overcooked expanse on her back that prompts the nurse to simply pour the contents of her bowl over it. Wipe to a moonlit stretch of dense forest, against which a map is held up in Celestia’s influence—her perspective. She turns it this way and that with a slightly impatient sigh.)
Celestia: Now, was it two left turns and a right, or— (Long shot of her amid the thickets, wearing pack and shirt.) —two right turns and a left? Heh.
(Something shadowy flashes past in the fore, her unsteady confidence evaporating in nearly the same moment.)
Celestia: Luna always handled directions.
(A snapping twig sets every nerve to vibrating at its highest octave…teeth clench at the pinnacle of brain-freezing fear…and then a perfectly ordinary chicken waddles out of the bushes. It offers a few bemused clucks and pecks at the dirt for food, but Celestia responds to the yardbird’s arrival by backpedaling to the nearest tree and lifting off to wrap all four legs around a sturdy branch.)
Celestia: (shivering, barely able to speak) And scared away the chickens!
(She hitches in a breath and squeezes both eyes shut as if wishing that a rotisserie might instantly spring from the earth and cook this one whole. Dissolve to Luna on the move in the forest, wearing her own shirt and gear and perusing a map suspended in her horn-glow. Her sunburn has healed up. She stops and looks up, the camera zooming out to frame Celestia trying to puzzle out her own map as she walks the path. The older sister only notices the younger upon looking up.)
Celestia: Oh! (Laugh; both roll/stow their maps.) I thought climbing Mount Filly-mane-jaro was on my list.
Luna: I’m not copying you. (reluctantly, scratching back of head) I just wanted to watch the sunrise.
Celestia: (chuckling) Ah! I’m, uh, here for the moonset. (Long pause.) So, uh, how did the rest of your day go?
Luna: (forced casual tone) Oh, amazing! Yeah, uh, fan-fantastic. Best ever, really.
Celestia: (ditto) Yeah! Me too. Mm. (Another long pause.)
Luna: You…you can walk with me, you know, if—if you want, I mean.
Celestia: (scoffing softly) Oh, well, since we’re going the same way…
(She trails off into a chuckle, and the sisters fall to walking side by side, carefully avoiding eye contact. Dissolve to a long overhead shot of a cliff jutting upward toward the crescent moon and zoom in slowly as they climb toward its edge, then cut to them—now smiling warmly.)
Luna: This is so beautiful. It must be amazing in the sunlight.
Celestia: The night’s pretty special, too.
(A bit of magic removes and sets aside both their packs, and they sit down on their haunches to stare up at the darkened expanse of the heavens. A shooting star streaks across the night.)
Celestia, Luna: Lucky star! (They stare at each other and drop their heads.)
Luna: You taught me to look for those when I was a filly.
Celestia: (chuckling, nudging her) Hope I wasn’t too bossy doing it.
Luna: You know, being with your sister all the time is hard, but…
(Now she activates her horn to loosen her mane from its ponytail and let her mane stream out.)
Luna: …being without her? It’s even harder.
Celestia: I do know. (She copies the action and sighs.) And I wouldn’t trade you for any of the adventures on my list.
(A white wing pulls the younger sovereign closer.)
Luna: Not even your zip line?
(Celestia answers that one by levitating her portion of the list they tore in half during their Act Two plop into the swamp, crumpling it into a ball, and disintegrating it.)
Celestia: Not even my zip line.
Luna: I’m sorry I said those things before. Sometimes it’s just…tough being the little sister.
Celestia: It’s not always easy being the big sister, either. I’m sorry too.
(There follows a long, forgiving hug, which gives way to a double look up at the sky just in time for the sunrise—with one minor complication: the moon does not shift even a particle.)
Luna: (with growing disbelief) Wh—? The sun and the moon together? At the same time?
Celestia: (smiling) Now where have I seen that before?
(They bend down and o.s., raising their haunches to that their cutie marks stand side by side, then straighten up with a laugh. The actual heavenly bodies have other ideas, though, zipping back and forth all over the sky and perturbing their full-time controllers no end.)
Luna: (softly) Whoa. (Very long pause.)
Celestia: You think maybe Twilight’s having trouble with the amulet?
Luna: We should probably go help her.
(They take flight. Cut to Twilight standing on a Canterlot Castle balcony, magically holding the amulet Celestia gave her in Act One and wrenching fruitlessly at it.)
Spike: (from inside) Okay, okay. (He flies out to her, carrying a small tool.) I think I got it! (Land.) Sunburst says we just need to reset the amulet with this!
(The grin she throws him is equal parts glee and derangement; in close-up, she seizes the tool in her aura and applies it to the casing.)
Spike: (from o.s.) Turn the screw on the back…
(Which she does—a full turn with enough force to pop the amulet apart into a tangle of gears and warped springs. Spike flies over to her.)
Spike: …uh, no more than one half-turn.
(A frightened little moan escapes through his boss/sister’s tight-locked teeth. Cut to a long shot of Canterlot under the pinballing sun and moon.)
Twilight: (from balcony, echoing) DOES ANYPONY HAVE SOME TAPE?
(Here come Celestia and Luna, wringing every iota of airspeed from their feathers that they can get. Fade to black.)