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Friendly Correspondence
Princess Celestia sat at her writing desk and glanced up at Philomena. “Ready for another batch?”
The phoenix cocked her head. “Rrrr?”
After rolling the last scroll up, Celestia added it to the pile. “That should do it. If you would…”
Philomena clapped her wings together, and fire engulfed the stack of paper, leaving it in cinders. A wisp of ash curling away, the red flame shot out the window and split apart, heading toward scattered destinations.
And right as Celestia started leaning back in her chair to relax for a moment, Philomena’s feathers lit up again. A ball of crimson coalesced and floated to Celestia, then turned green before it fizzled out. “Oh, a letter from Spike!” she said. The scroll dropped onto the desk in front of her. “I hope Twilight will enjoy those Gala tickets. What do you think?”
“Awk.” A small wisp of down floated away from a growing bare patch on Philomena’s chest.
“Time for that again already? Didn’t you molt just a few centuries ago?” Celestia asked with a smirk.
“Chirrup.”
Celestia undid the tie and unfurled the message. Maybe a thank-you, maybe telling her that she’d made a friend she wanted to invite with the extra ticket. Still a few months off, over the next hill, so to speak, but not too early to start preparing.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I've learned that one of the joys of friendship is sharing your blessings, but when there's not enough blessings to go around, having more than your friends can make you feel pretty awful. So, though I appreciate the invitation, I will be returning both tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala.
Celestia’s breath caught in her throat. Her hooves shook as she drew them to her mouth. “Ph-Philomena, she—”
“Chee?”
The Princess whipped out a clean sheet of paper and dipped a quill in her bottle of ink. Far too much—the first word left a huge blotch on the page, but she scratched it through and scribbled furiously, pausing every few sentences to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
My most faithful student,
Thank you for your prompt response. It is one of the qualities I most admire about you.
It seems I have yet another. When I observed you turning down a party invitation from your fellow students, I knew I had to do something about it. You are too interesting, too wonderful a pony to keep it all to yourself. If I could just nudge you into socializing more, then others would discover what makes you so unique. But more than that, you would broaden your experience. Other ponies can teach you more than you realize—they have their own interests, their own expertises, and that is a better teacher than any textbook could be. I was also certain that their capacity to care about you would touch your heart.
So I sent you to Ponyville, a place dear to my own heart since its founding. I knew you would find a friend there, not only to save Equestria from Nightmare Moon, but to save yourself from isolation and loneliness.
When you told me you wanted to stay there,
Princess Celestia sniffled, smiled up at Philomena, and reached for a tissue.
I nearly broke down on the spot. To see you so attached to others that you would stay there, away from your home, your studies, your mentor, I was so, so proud of you. I hoped you’d foster a close enough relationship with one that you’d want to invite her to the Gala. So to hear back that you’d prefer not to attend unless you could bring all five with you, that you’d become such close friends with every one of them—
I have never been so overjoyed.
She reached for another tissue, dabbed her eyes dry, and blew her nose. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know—a princess has a certain image to uphold.”
“Hruah?”
After taking a deep breath, Celestia levitated her quill back into the inkwell. She squared her shoulders, slid another piece of paper from the stack, and carefully blotted the excess ink from the quill’s nib.
My faithful student Twilight,
Why didn't you just say so in the first place?
Celestia tucked six tickets into the scroll. “Another outgoing, please.”
Philomena sent the letter on its way, and with a huge smile, Celestia paused, balled up her first draft, and threw it in the wastebin. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, and one more ticket for Spike.”
The phoenix cocked her head. “Rrrr?”
After rolling the last scroll up, Celestia added it to the pile. “That should do it. If you would…”
Philomena clapped her wings together, and fire engulfed the stack of paper, leaving it in cinders. A wisp of ash curling away, the red flame shot out the window and split apart, heading toward scattered destinations.
And right as Celestia started leaning back in her chair to relax for a moment, Philomena’s feathers lit up again. A ball of crimson coalesced and floated to Celestia, then turned green before it fizzled out. “Oh, a letter from Spike!” she said. The scroll dropped onto the desk in front of her. “I hope Twilight will enjoy those Gala tickets. What do you think?”
“Awk.” A small wisp of down floated away from a growing bare patch on Philomena’s chest.
“Time for that again already? Didn’t you molt just a few centuries ago?” Celestia asked with a smirk.
“Chirrup.”
Celestia undid the tie and unfurled the message. Maybe a thank-you, maybe telling her that she’d made a friend she wanted to invite with the extra ticket. Still a few months off, over the next hill, so to speak, but not too early to start preparing.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I've learned that one of the joys of friendship is sharing your blessings, but when there's not enough blessings to go around, having more than your friends can make you feel pretty awful. So, though I appreciate the invitation, I will be returning both tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala.
Celestia’s breath caught in her throat. Her hooves shook as she drew them to her mouth. “Ph-Philomena, she—”
“Chee?”
The Princess whipped out a clean sheet of paper and dipped a quill in her bottle of ink. Far too much—the first word left a huge blotch on the page, but she scratched it through and scribbled furiously, pausing every few sentences to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
My most faithful student,
Thank you for your prompt response. It is one of the qualities I most admire about you.
It seems I have yet another. When I observed you turning down a party invitation from your fellow students, I knew I had to do something about it. You are too interesting, too wonderful a pony to keep it all to yourself. If I could just nudge you into socializing more, then others would discover what makes you so unique. But more than that, you would broaden your experience. Other ponies can teach you more than you realize—they have their own interests, their own expertises, and that is a better teacher than any textbook could be. I was also certain that their capacity to care about you would touch your heart.
So I sent you to Ponyville, a place dear to my own heart since its founding. I knew you would find a friend there, not only to save Equestria from Nightmare Moon, but to save yourself from isolation and loneliness.
When you told me you wanted to stay there,
Princess Celestia sniffled, smiled up at Philomena, and reached for a tissue.
I nearly broke down on the spot. To see you so attached to others that you would stay there, away from your home, your studies, your mentor, I was so, so proud of you. I hoped you’d foster a close enough relationship with one that you’d want to invite her to the Gala. So to hear back that you’d prefer not to attend unless you could bring all five with you, that you’d become such close friends with every one of them—
I have never been so overjoyed.
She reached for another tissue, dabbed her eyes dry, and blew her nose. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know—a princess has a certain image to uphold.”
“Hruah?”
After taking a deep breath, Celestia levitated her quill back into the inkwell. She squared her shoulders, slid another piece of paper from the stack, and carefully blotted the excess ink from the quill’s nib.
My faithful student Twilight,
Why didn't you just say so in the first place?
Celestia tucked six tickets into the scroll. “Another outgoing, please.”
Philomena sent the letter on its way, and with a huge smile, Celestia paused, balled up her first draft, and threw it in the wastebin. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, and one more ticket for Spike.”