FoE Heroes
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Trixie VS. HEARTH'S WARMING EVE - ROUND 4 (PART 3)
Дух: Шутки в сторону. Ты знаешь почему нет никакой разницы?
Трикси: Нет.
Дух: Позволь мне тебе намекнуть, чтобы ты смогла самостоятельно прийти к выводам.
Д: Итак, ты заявляешь что Трикси это наикрупнейшее событие которое когда-либо происходило в Понивилле?
Т: Именно.
Д: Но в мире без Трикси Понивилль ни капельки не изменился.
Д: Один минус ноль это всё ещё один. Понивилль минус Трикси всё ещё Понивилль. Ты понимаешь что это значит?
Т: Что мало чего происходит в Понивилле?
Д: Нет. Видишь ли, Трикси...
Д: Ты просто не...
Т: :(
Д: ...эх...
Д: Знаешь, я просто сокращу урок в этом году.
Т: Серьезно?
Д: Да, я не уверена что этот метод тебе подходит.
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Fallot Equestria: Heroes
Война... Война не меняется...
Некто сказал мне это однажды.
Старик произнёс это, думаю, расплывчатое и мудрое изречение...
Не, знаю, правда ли это. Я не очень умная пони, но думаю, что война часто менялась.
Когда было найдено и отлито железо, пони стали сражаться мечами: в их ртах, с помощью телекинеза или прикрепляя к крыльям.
В дальнейшем, мы узнали, как стрелять друг в друга, не используя магию.
И вскоре, магия и наука объединились в смертоносные бомбы.
Когда бомбы, в конце концов, упали, это должен был быть конец войнам, но пони пережили достаточно, чтобы воевать после апокалипсиса.
Мы, действительно, изобретательны в этом.
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Аннотация от автора:
I loved Rarity in her detective outfit. I realized that she had a potential foe already in the show: Cheerilee. Her 'Smooth Criminal' hat gave me the perfect excuse to create a little cat n' mouse game with our resident ponies.
Frenetic. The past two days were just that. She was hot on my tail and no matter what I did I just could not shake her. By now I’m sure she has a good idea of who it is she's pursuing. Not that I’d stop to ask her. No, my only goal was to stay one step ahead of her, literally and figuratively. But Sweet Celestia, she was making it difficult.
This whole mess began a week ago. I had stopped in Twilight’s castle to borrow a book. The princess was out so I spoke to her assistant. Spike took my request with all the enthusiasm and attention of baked potato learning calculus. I had clearly interrupted some other task or activity of his. Now, either I misinterpreted the rules on returning the book or he simply offered a shoddy explanation. That remains to be determined.
I took the book, expecting to return it in two weeks’ time. Somehow, none of that was not conveyed to Twilight.
I had taken the book with me when I had gone to visit a friend in Canterlot. It was there that I discovered that I was a suspect. I overheard gossip at a local cafe: One of the princess's favorite books had been stolen. Well isn't that just fine? I retreated to my hotel room, paranoid that everypony knew I was a fugitive. I paced, trying to calm myself. I looked out the window. Then I saw her. In the square below she stood out quite well in her detective outfit. That silly thing. Yet I knew she meant business. I left in haste.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention that I am wholly unaccustomed to being pursued in such a manner. Yet here I am, racing through dank alleyways in a part of Canterlot barely fit for Diamond Dogs. The posh and glamour of the city during the day dissipated into a fog of debauchery and grime during the night. How quaint. What worried me more than the grim and shady characters was that I found enjoyment in being chased. There was a thrill that teaching just couldn't provide.
I found I had to do more than just keep moving. Like a changeling at a costume party, I had to be everypony. Disguises became my friends. This little getup you see here is quite fetching, if I'm being honest. But fashion talk will have to wait. At this point I simply want to get back to Twilight before Rarity can find me. Then I'd win.
I could easily explain the situation to Twilight. She's amenable and forgiving of misunderstanding. Rarity, however, would be less likely to believe such a tale. Congenial and understanding is her natural state. When she plays detective, however, she becomes less hospitable to stories and alibis, no matter their veracity. I’m not allowing myself to be turned in like some common criminal. Therefore, I run.