Windwright

"Bloom. The flower, not the act. She would not be a horrible match for him for political gain. A tie to Equestria, a rising power." the kunoichi answered, choosing to engage with that point while she worked through the other. "Jiyūna Soyokaze might be better, once she comes of age. Or perhaps a caribou clanwife." she continued, it was a train of thought she'd pursued in many sleepless nights. She took a deep breath and lifted her head from the table to look at Yu Yue, really look at her, for the first time since they'd both been little more than fillies. "You and he are not so different, really. Your father took more than one wife. And he had his favorites in his harem...if I recall my reading correctly, your mother was in that position. A court songstress." she pointed out, her look calculating. "It would not be such a departure from tradition if one were to find a certain foreign celebrity athlete in yours. And goodness, what a surprise to find out he was actually a local guardstallion." Sī Jīn returned the empress's smile with one of her own, her eyes sparkling with a mischief Sī Jīn shouldn't be clever enough to manage. "And I can think of a few ways a Watcher might gain the approval of the court, should you wish to make him more than a mere consort. Some of them not only legal but entirely above-the-board, even."

Aiyaaaa. There was no way to avoid the subject if it was being asked directly. Sī Jīn blushed like a schoolfilly and sat back in her place, giving a soft nod of confirmation. She followed it almost immediately with "Kami preserve us both, hai. Half the court knows he and I have dalliances, of course. Everyone expects that to be what Prince Liàn keeps vapid, clumsy Sī Jīn around to do for him. Why he keeps her close. For a time, I had convinced myself of the same." while rolling a pair of chopsticks under her hoof. "It is his mask, as much as mine. Part of what helps me keep him safe. If they suspected I was by half, they would start working their plans around me. But wearing that mask is difficult when I want to believe in it. Dangerous. It causes pain when another pretty mare catches his eye. Because Sī Jīn should not care. Sī Jīn is arm candy. A distraction from that which the Prince should be about, and a complication to be discarded when he is matched to some pretty foreign princess, or daughter of a noble house here in Long Guo. A good match will secure your influence, show your power, and prevent your detractors from using Prince Liàn as a potential puppet usurper. It is only sense, and his affection for Sī Jīn, a nothing filly of no breeding from a nowhere village no one can even find on a map, is just flouting your authority. They cannot know what I do, and my mask is no fit for him. And clan Chiyo has exiled me for it! A working exile, though kami know how they even learned I had been watching him instead of you, or that I wanted to keep doing it, but I'm not going to check a gifted gown for its seams." As she keeps speaking, she slowly loses control over the tone and speed of her voice, her words coming out in a rush of hopeless resignation that was apparently a long time coming. By the end of it, her head is on the table and she takes a distracted nibble of a teacake by her snout while she tries to compose herself again. "I don't know what to do about it except keep on as things are, and return to my clan when-...when he no longer has a use for me."

Windwright nodded to Rose to acknowledge the request. He'd been about to ask further questions when the sphinx and his entourage turned and left. Which put a damper on things. He sighed and turned to Prince Blueblood and Rose. "Probably best to wait until we have Miss or Mister Bevel's cooperation. I'm not hard to find, just send me a letter to Rainbow Falls and it'll get to me. I'll be in town for a few more days to collect samples and deal with some other business I have in Ponyville."

Windwright bowed as she approached the prince, not wanting to shout across the room for a friendly conversation. "Not too bad. A bit of snow, but I left my kiosk back in Rainbow Falls, so I flew most of the way. With that extra project of yours, I'm seriously considering taking out a lease on a dorm room I'm here so often, heh." she said, sipping a mug of cider she brought over from the refreshments table. She nodded politely to Rose as she drew close, and half-fluttered her wings in an energetic little gesture. "But tonight is not for talking shop. How's the herd doing?"

"That was mostly GG, honestly. He noticed from some press photos and seeing you around town that you didn't often wear your other shape and a suit at the same time, and a little asking around and guesswork confirmed that you just didn't have many that fit right." Honeywing answered, his chest puffing out a little in pride. "And take your time, it's not exactly a Hearthswatming suit and GG said to mention that he'd be happy to let it out or pull it in if you ever need it. Also to invite you over for a makeover if you're ever in the mood, but since advertising as part of a gift is a bit gauche we acknowledge that you already have a fully capable staff who can help you look your best, who also know how to adjust garments, so no pressure at all." The courier stuck out his tongue playfully at this, securing his bags again now that their contents had been carried safely to their new owner. "We should see you at the party, and after that I'll be off to Yakyakistan again to see if we can't get that textiles agreement smoothed out. Assuming we can find something they want that won't upset the traditionalists."

Windwright grinned broadly and said, "One of my contacts in the AAAA put me in touch with their publisher, who's also working on translating a lot of the old treatises on alchemy, magic, and botany. Apparently the return of the Pillars was a shot in the foreleg for getting some of the more obscure passages and phrases done, and this little beauty is on the cutting edge of ancient lore. I'm actually thinking about picking up a copy myself to see if I can't take another crack at breeding a strain of mages' tears that's a little easier to harvest so my suppliers will consider not charging my left wing every time I start using it in my research. Not that I'll be holding my breath. Oh, and I left my calling card in the last pages, let me know if you need to borrow my old ponish thesaurus. I use Silverscroll's myself, the grammar primers in the appendices are worth their weight in bits." She was glad she'd made a good guess on the nature of the gift, being in an adjacent field of study was often helpful but it was no substitute for actually knowing somecreature. "Anyway, yeah. The chapter on jungle cultivars is apparently causing a big splash in the industry, my contact was practically dancing to tell me about it in her return letter when I wrote to ask about good books. I'm guessing some of it is techniques we didn't know they knew, but from the sounds of it there's some promising new information too."

Honeywing took the offered towel in his spare wing and pulled out the contents of the envelope, which he separated all but the last sheet from. "School business, actually. An acquaintance of mine from one of my first missions in the Courier Corps sent me this letter, asking me to enroll her son in the School and granting me legal guardianship while he's here. I wasn't sure to whom to turn these in, but she filled out everything but Glitz's and my address and signatures, so I was hoping you'd be willing to get them to the right pony." He presented the documents in question, all signed, filled out, initialed, and even notarized in the right places. "GG's going to take care of the tuition and whatnot since I need to leave for that Yakyakistan mission in a couple of days, and won't be back until after the new term starts. In the meantime, though..." he said, shuffling with his bulging saddlebags while Blueblood handled and inspected the paperwork at his leisure. After a moment, he produced a large basket wrapped with cloth and tied with a fluffy cotton ribbon. A little tag tied to this with a short length of silk read "Happy Hearthswarming, HW & GG" Inside the wrapping, which turned out to be a monographed bath robe, was another pair of robes with the initials of BB's herdmates, as well as several scented oils, mani/pedi kits, face scrubs and masks, a set of plush towels, and several high end shampoos and conditioners for the mane, tail, and coat. In short, it was a spa day for three in a basket. And Honeywing apparently wasn't done, as he also pulled out another box, this time wrapped in more traditional paper. "We, er...had a word with your tailor for the robes and for this. GG did the alterations themself, and most of that basket was honestly stock from the shop, so we wanted to splurge a little. The goods are more valuable than the Secret Princess rules would allow, but we didn't actually pay more. Perks of being industry insiders, heh." The second box contained a formal silk suit in blue and gold, tailored not to Blueblood's measurements, but to Bluebelle's.

"I didn't." Sī Jīn said, almost suspiciously quickly. In the privacy of her own shaking head, she thought "Kami preserve you, girl! You are a kunoichi, not some blushing maiden in a manhu-wait." then started running the conversation back through her head again. While she was connecting dots, she said, her tone clearly distracted, "Reports suggest she may be in the process of revising her own tax laws. She may have been comparing hers to yours and discovered some method of improving efficiency in a moment of clarity or mania." And suddenly, she understood something. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks went scarlet. "Oh. Oh, kami. You...think the servants' chatter is about you. Oh, kami preserve me, it probably is, at that." she said, standing to pace and rub at her temple. How could she be so blind about that. Of course the staff wouldn't care about Liàn's dalliances, his reputation was already that of a rake even if he didn't deserve it. She let out a string of minor oaths in her native tongue just barely audible to anyone but herself, then bowed to Yu Yuè and said "I had overlooked that possibility, my own worries...No matter, it's inexcusable. My role as the Prince's protector shouldn't blind me to your troubles. Give me a moment, I hadn't thought...well, give me a moment."

Windwright, alchemist extraordinaire, had checked her saddlebags after having made a Hearthswarming gift delivery and trotted into the main hall like she was walking on air. She could, of course, but she wasn't. Her wings were extended above her to keep the second of the parcels she'd brought this evening from clouting anypony about the ears, as it was a hefty basket laden with some of her best soaps and shampoos in a variety of scents. She was feeling more herself this evening, having finally managed to replenish her stores of Poison Joke extract in time to make a dose of her usual potion, even if she hadn't had time to get dyed for this year's event, but she wasn't like to miss this party any time. In addition to the titanic tower of toiletries, the pegasus made sure to drop a pouch of bits into the donation box for a charity she knew did Science, Technology, Engineering, Alchemy, and Mathematics work with foals across Equestria. It was important to promote STEAM, after all. Charity managed, she sidled over to the buffet table to assess the state of the crowds surrounding the royals. Courtesy dictated she exchange greetings with the both of them, after all she'd made both of their personal acquaintances and was rather indebted to Prince Blueblood in particular for how far House Platinum had allowed her research to go. Still, she couldn't well interrupt conversations ongoing between the hosts and their other guests.

It was time. Windwright's Secret Princess spy guardsmare came to inform her that Granola had been spotted in the castle. Windy trotted along behind the guard as she was led to the ballroom and pointed to the punch. The alchemist wove her way through the crowd and all but materialized just behind her target, saying "Miss Granola Gracie? Happy Hearthswarming! My name's Windwright, and I was told this was something you might want." She offered out her mystery parcel, a bit over a foot long, three-quarters that wide, and a good hoof's-width thick, out to Nola with the bow twinkling in the light.

Honey slipped inside and executed a short bow, shaking a bit of snow out of his mane from his landing. "Good morning, Highness." he greeted, dancing on the spot to warm up out of habit. "I know you're busy, especially this morning, but I had two more matters to bring to your attention, one business and one personal. They're both somewhat urgent. End of day at the latest. So I stopped by to deliver both to you personally. Which would you prefer to hear first?" the courier asked, slipping a letter out of his saddlebags, its seal broken already though it appeared it was addressed to Honeywing himself. Of course, that still left the bags full to bursting.

Early in the morning of Heartwarming Eve, Honeywing the pegasus stepped out into the balcony of his shared bedroom with Glitzen Glamour on the second floor of his coltfriend's parlor. He stretched and greeted the sun as it peeked over the town's rooftops, a comfortable ritual on a morning that was going to be too busy for the comfortable cuddles he wanted to spend it on. But rather than brood, he spread his wings, double-checked the saddlebags under them, and flew off. His destination was the second most notable landmark in the once sleepy village, and the second new addition: the Princess's School of Friendship. More specifically the Archchancellor's office. He'd been given special permission to come and go at his leisure as part of his IMAGINE duties, but hopefully the Prince wouldn't mind his overstepping that boundary for this. He knocked politely on the glass doors that led from terrace to office and waited, perhaps a little impatiently, to be granted entrance to the warm building.

T'was the night of Hearths' Warming and somewhere in the castle, A pony was waiting, bearing a parcel. The guests in the main hall were dancing with glee, But Windwright the alchemist whistled merrily. She sought for a pony who she'd been assigned, "Bring her a present, with kindness in mind." And as it turned out, the mare had interest, In one of the subjects that Windy knew best. She'd sent off a letter as soon as she'd learned, And called in a favor that she had once earned. She'd wrapped what came back with a festive glow, Shining green paper, with a red tinsel bow. And then on this night of Hearths' Warming Eve, She flagged down a guard assigned to retrieve. So now she was waiting for Granola to arrive, To receive her Secret Princess gift and jive.

Eden Glow took the little ornament into his own aura, shaking his head at the Princess's question. Embarrassingly enough, he barely remembered Flurry herself except as a giggling foal in a high chair and something about a snotsplosion? Foxtrot had told him the story a couple of times but he'd been preoccupied at the time by the palace's aurora beacon and Empress Cadenza's questions. Though he had a strange craving for broccoli Alfredo at the mention of food. He dipped his head deferentially and stepped out of the greeting line so as not to disturb its flow, making his way over to the food tables, where he doubted he'd find Alfredo, but Foxtrot would be grumpy at him if he didn't eat something. To keep the ornament out of the way, he opted to hang it from his horn, letting it split the light still occasionally leaking from him, which did some pretty colourful things to his aurora magics. He'd need to test this specific ornament later, but the sheer number of shiny, reflective, or refractive things around during Solstice and Hearthswarming season made it Eden's favourite time of year by a long margin.

Windwright sucked thoughtfully on his teeth as he returned his notebook to its proper home. "If we had EVERYTHING we need? Two decades with two master alchemists bent to the task would be long enough to have a marketable spinxification potion in a variety of flavours and durations. But I don't owe Princess Bluebelle THAT kind of favour. I have my own research to get back to, and my personal passion projects diverged from general transformative potions at least five years ago. You'd need to be one of the four pony races for any of my future research to do you much good. Or a griffon, I'm pretty sure I can use hippogriffs to create a reliable proxy for medical alchemy that applies to griffons." he said, then shook his head. "Thankfully, if Miss Compass is able to help power the spell and Miss or Mister Bevel is able to channel the energy into a proper transformative spell, that shouldn't take too long. A few months' research. Maybe a year?" he said, looking to Rose for confirmation of his guesstimates. "Either way, I can be on hand to help minimize any disorientation, dizziness, or other side effects via medical formulae. I have LOADS of those."

Eden Glow hadn't been back to the Crystal Empire in a long time. Almost half his life, in fact, but since he'd gotten here last night his teeth had been on edge. His teachers would call it a resonant feedback event, where like calls to and amplifies like. They'd explain that the hum Eden could feel down to his soul right now was just his aurora magic reaching out to the beacon atop the Crystal Palace, finding a kindred thread of power, and allowing the much more powerful effect to solidify its foundation and structure. That the reason the colt was practically beside himself with excitement was that his thaumic reservoir was being plucked by something that was just a byproduct of the Crystal Heart. They could have given a dissertation on the subject of the young unicorn literally glowing even in his sleep because of the tremendous power of resonant magic. Eden himself would just say "Sky's awake." and leave it at that. But he could still FEEL the magic of the Empire all the way down to his curly mane tips, tucked into the knit cap and scarf Foxtrot got him for last Hearths' Warming. At 3 PM, he found himself waiting by the actual Crystal Heart itself, and he was all but leaving afterimages of himself in his wake as he soaked in the atmosphere. When the guards finally let the guests into the hall for the party, it took most of the discipline he had to limit himself to leaving an aurora trailing his horn as he levitated his present along with him. It was a neat gift, he thought as he deposited it. Foxtrot had called it a zoetrope mobile, and Eden had one himself with a bunch of strips to change what they projected! This one only had a couple, but it could be put over a lamp instead of needing to buy bulbs or make his own light for it, and Eden hadn't actually used his in a couple of years. No point when he could make his own light shows! He floated the box over to a good spot where it wouldn't be at risk of getting dropped, crushed, or bent, and turned to wait for his turn to meet their hosts. Again, technically, though Foxtrot had warned him that the Princess and Prince might not remember him since it was so long ago. Especially for Princess Flurry, since she was as old now as he'd been then! But he still couldn't help but to leak a little light as he waited.

Might be fun for Eden Glow to attend another dinner in the Empire. I'm guessing this will be a bit later than the previous thread tho

Sī Jīn frowned. She much preferred having the extended imperial family where an eye could be kept on them. She knew better than to bring up any of the attempts to harm the prince she'd personally stopped. Liàn didn't like his sister to be worried, and she'd probably insist on tighter security in spite of the fact that, aside from a few nights where she'd worked to exhaustion, she had a handle on things. Instead, she hummed thoughtfully and said "Perhaps, but your siblings all have their own retinues, and the civil service is, of course, also run from the palace by tradition. It would be easier to move the Imperial Court to another palace at this point than to move the Servants, even though we'd need to keep spies to prevent power from going to their heads." She chuckled at her own joke, sipping some tea and letting the warmth ease through her. "There's something to that idea though. Keeping your siblings stationed at the Imperial Castles and Keeps through the nation. Tell them each they're being honoured and asked to oversee their upkeep..." she conceded, her minds' eye full of puffed up stallions and powdered mares being all but exiled to administrative dead-zones. "That might allow certain...attachments to go on unnoticed. Except by those whose opinions actually matter, I mean." she added in a dreamy voice as she imagined moving with Liàn into one of the now vacated Royal suites. One with an attached room for her, and a private bath. Maybe space for foalsNo, stupid girl, there are no foals in your future. Sī Jīn doesn't have sufficient rank or breeding to be a good match, and Liàn would need to be married for politics to some Equestrian or Neighponese royal. Even if she technically was really the daughter of the clan heads nobody here in Long Guo knew that. COULD know that. Only the Prince even knew her name, really. She dunked a tea cake into her saucer and, before her dread could kill the question, she asked, in the tone of someone changing the subject, "I don't suppose you've given any thought to settling Liàn with some pretty foreign mare?"

Well. Time to really cross my lines up. Windwright and Honeywing will both be in attendance. Honeywing is just happy to be back in Ponyville in time to attend, and will probably sneak himself into some kind of administrative minutia at some point. Windwright is still going to be missing the ingredients for a few of the potions they generally feel more comfortable having than not, but neither they (nor I) expect anypony to both know how to cultivate and harvest them, or that they're in need. So probably a scarf/hat combo

Roleplay Type: WoE Name: Stellar Sign, "Inque Noire", "Inky" Gender: Male Age: Stallion Species: Areion Eye colour: Gold Coat: Bluest Black (#000230) Mane/Tail: Eminence purple (#6C3082) mane and tail, both naturally wavy. His mane is kept in a neat comb-over style not unlike a suave silver screen stallion, while his tail is allowed to fly free, so to speak. Physique: A bit on the skinny side of average, Stellar is an author, but he likes working out of cafés and insists on lugging his typewriter and manuscripts with him, so he gets plenty of exercize. Residence: Canterlot Occupation: Author under the trade alias Inque Noir Cutie Mark: A constellation in the shape of a fedora and greatcoat collar, which he earned almost embarrassingly late when one of the short detective stories he wrote got turned in instead of a class assignment, and his teacher sent it to an open call she'd heard about. The colt spent the next few weeks trying to become invisible, but eventually his teacher put a copy of the magazine on his desk opened to a page where, accompanied by a line-shaded illustration of a stallion in a trench coat, his story had been published with an editor's choice award. Unique Traits: Stellar Sign is a specialist-type flyer. He's not particularly strong or fast, nor does he have particularly high endurance as these things go, but he's silent in the air. He also learned fairly early on how to adjust his eyes more quickly to changing light conditions than most areion, which also allows him to operate on a crepuscular schedule that mostly aligns with 'regular ponies'. History: Stellar Sign was born to a night watchstallion and an astronomer in Manehattan on a foggy, moonlit night. The pair lived in a high rise on the lower east side, and had been trying to save up for a better place when they learned they were expecting. Still, Stellar wasn't neglected growing up in spite of how busy his arrival made his parents. He had uncles and aunts to look after him and his brother when they could, but often the only times he actually saw his parents was in the wee hours of the morning when his mother arrived home from work, or in the early evening before his father left for his job. This, combined with the fact that the colt's bedroom window was next to a neon sign, left his sleep patterns rather erratic when compared to most areion. He'd wake up in the evening to see his dad off, take a nap late at night, then wake up again for his mom, and take another nap when the morning sun finally rose high enough to leave his room shadowed. It wasn't until he was sent to school that he adjusted to typical areion hours, a habit he fell back out of as he matured into adulthood. Lacking any shared interests with his brother or other relatives, the colt took to reading picture books, then comics, and eventually fiction, his bedroom eventually ending up resembling a small library. Some of his school-friends assumed that one day he'd pick up just the right book and get a cutie mark from its pages, and most of his teachers assumed he was napping too much instead of exploring like a healthy colt, so he was a very late bloomer. In fact, he was the last one in his school year to get a cutie mark by more than a full year. He didn't exactly mind, though, as even before he found his calling he was content to scribble and read. As he grew older, he was able to turn those stories of his into full fledged novels, which earned him a humble, but livable wage as long as he was relatively focused. On the advice of one of his early publishers, he developed and started using his nom de plume: "Inque Noire". He and that editor eventually had a falling out over royalties, but he was able to find a new editor, a mare named Doublegum Bubble, living in his apartment complex. From there he settled into a meagre, but comfortable life for himself. He'd write a few novels a year, sell some short stories to pulps and trade mags, do some occasional guest-writing for comics in his genre, and mingle and mix with industry names if he was feeling stir-crazy. But mostly he spent his days writing and his evenings reading or listening to jazz noir stations, drinking coffee as black as his preferred medium and genre, and avoiding committing to any of the string of admittedly lovely mares his parents not-so-subtly tried to nudge him toward. Character Personality: Stellar Sign attempts to project a gruff, tough-stallion image to those around him, but he's a total softy once you get to know him. He tends to be antsy and nervous around dawn and dusk, and often makes time for a nap around noon, but otherwise sleeps through the night since adulthood, since it makes it easier to interact with industry contacts and fans. The image and industry is also why he keeps the Inque Noire mask up around those not in the know. Ponies expect someone who writes detective novels to be hard-boiled, suave, and witty, while Stellar himself is only one of the three. Beneath his gruff persona, he's kind, passionate, and generous. He keeps an entire bookshelf in his living room with autographed trade hardcovers of comic arcs he enjoys sharing, surreptitiously feeds stray kittens and pigeons, and tries to come and go by his study's window (his bedroom lacks one to help him nap) to avoid disturbing his neighbors. His highrise apartment is decorated in inexpensive thirdhoof furniture aside from the bookshelves, his writing desk (which didn't count since it was a gift), and the linens for his hide-a-bed. Character Summary: Stellar sign is a stallion of many layers. He is Inque Noire, a rough, no-nonsense areion minor author of detective mystery novels to those who don't look twice at him. But he's also a gentle soul who can't stand to see the vulnerable and innocent suffer. His reputation means a great deal to him, but only because it frees him to be himself in the shadows and twilight, where he thrives. He lives in a ratty, austere apartment because he'd rather spend his bits on books and charity, and he's an oddball in both the pony and areion communities to which he ostensibly belongs.

Roleplay Type: ANG Name: Lambent Nocturne Gender: Male Age: Young adult Species: Areion Eye colour: Silver #bdc3c7 cat-slitted irises like most areion, often half-hidden by pince-nez sunglasses. Coat: Shade Gray #444444 Mane/Tail: Midnight Blue #2c3e50 for both, with a lighter blue streak (#2980b9) bordered by a yellow one (#f1c40f). His tail is kept neat and trim, but allowed to flow freely, while his mane is a medium length tousle that makes him look more like a sleep deprived rock star than a novelist. Unless he's attending a signing, when he'll slick it back and hide his stripes under a brown fedora. Physique: Tall and lanky. The way he carries himself and moves are the only things stopping him from looking like a rock band washout. He's too tense and nervous Residence: Zephyr Heights Occupation: Novelist under the alias Inque Noire through Pulp Tails Publishing, comic writer under the alias Somber Wing for Mark Horse comics, part time barkeeper in a small café in the Eye district. Cutie Mark: Magnifying glass over an open book. His cutie mark came to him before his voice started cracking, the first time he made it through the slush pile and sold a short story called The Wandering Eye to a pulp magazine that needed something to fill ad space that fell through. He was the first foal in his cadre with a cutie mark. Unique Traits: Turns out, areion flight is both quieter and less flashy than pegasus flight. Who knew! Lambent's truly unique trait is his triple life. Noir author by night, comic book author by...night...and mild-mannered areion bartender...by...night...Nocturne is not a 'day pony', okay. History: Lambent's parents were a relatively unknown producer and off-Eye operetta who elected to retire after relatively successful careers. While he and his siblings were pushed toward music and musicals, Lambent learned from a ludicrously early age that he had a flair for weaving mysteries. He was the youngest of his four siblings, but the second to find his cutie mark thanks to raw talent and quiet drive. While most of his friends were still trying to figure out how to talk to their crushes without pulling their tails, Nocturne was working on his first play. The biggest mystery of which was how he'd managed to produce a compelling narrative without knowing what either word meant. From there it was a long string of stories sold by the word to magazines that paid less than half what they were worth, until, entirely by chance, an author working under the nom de plume "Inque Noire" happened to read one of those pieces while she was waiting in a barber's shop. She was getting on in years, and was starting to look towards retiring after a long career of her own, so she sent young Nocturne a letter under her real name, commissioning him to produce a longer work. With the extra space (and a thesaurus), he managed to create a tidy little novella, which he sent off to his mysterious benefactor. He was shocked when, a year later, he read Inque Noire's newest thriller and realized that HE had written it. Not all of it, of course. The wording was different, better, and a few key scenes had been shifted around so that the story was paced better. But it was his plot. The characters had his names. And the solution was HIS solution. Which is when he got his second letter, with the payment for his first story, a sum that was more than twice what all his other stories had earned combined, and an explanation. His mysterious benefactor was, in fact, Inque Noire. She had a new commission for him, too, but with a catch. Firstly, he couldn't show it to anypony else. This was between the two of them, and second, he would be paid a cut of the royalties, rather than a flat rate. And then, once that novel was published, he was given a third commission, and then a fourth, and then he was doing his own revisions and editing in exchange for a larger cut of the royalties. And gradually, story by story, more and more of Inque Noire's books weren't actually written by this mysterious mare at all. They were written by Lambent. When he realized that he'd been responsible for an entire year's worth of Inque Noire books, he decided to play the sleuth himself and tracked down his benefactor, who turned out to be a kindly old mare who didn't care much for the spotlight anymore, and had been training Lambent for a very special job. Her job. Inque Noire. Because it turned out, she wasn't the first pegasus to publish under that name. It had cropped up off and on for as far back as anypony could remember. Sometimes a pegasus, sometimes an areion, sometimes a mare, sometimes a stallion, and now: Lambent Nocturne swore to keep the secret and keep up her work, which he has done to this day, even after her passing. It didn't exactly pay well, but the work was more than enough to let him afford an apartment in one of the foggy districts, especially once Mark Horse reached out to him with an offer to write episodic plots to use as B plot fillers between major arcs or while waiting for other titles' timelines to catch up for a major event. He's been doing both writing jobs for a few years now, though his family only knows about the bar job, and was quite comfortable with his (admittedly rather spartan) life. Until magic came back and he discovered that he could fly. Character Personality: While Lambent has plenty of confidence, it's all tied up behind his twin masks. His life and upbringing would have made him a bit of a nervous wreck if not for the early discovery of his special talent. The rest of his family are all, in one way or another, involved in either theatre or music, and so far as they're aware he's a barkeep who occasionally sells short stories for book money. Nocturne is perfectly happy to let them think so, just like he's perfectly happy for his fans to think he's a mysterious, nigh-immortal author of well-crafted Noir novels, or fairly decent detective comic stories, and his professional contacts to think of him as a shy, eccentric author who liked his privacy. The balance between stoic bartender and prolific author does cause him a fair bit of stress, which he vents into his work and his newly found hobby of gliding around Zephyr Heights' theatre district. Character Summary: Lambent Nocturne: moderately successful mystery author and bundle of nerves. He's driven by his craft, almost obsessed during his more intense phases, and spends most of his time serving drinks or hunched over his trusty typewriter. His apartment is lined wall-to-wall with bookshelves stuffed to bursting with paperbacks, magazines in organizer boxes, and comic book trade publications, though most of them are from other authors and writers rather than his own works. Notably, he's inherited a collection of first edition Inque Noire novels passed down from author to author to bear the name, which he gives pride of place in his study/office/spare room, an entire bookshelf directly across from his desk so if he needs to look up from his typewriter, he can't help but see it.

Windwright just stared for a moment at the spot Rose had occupied before dropping those little tidbits of information. Sisters, the moral implications of not only ripping the soul out of somecreature, but manipulating it directly. That had to earn you a place in the palace statuary collection, right? Absently, he corrected one of Nilaavin's statements, saying "In perpetuity, continuity is something else." That was fortunately enough to pull him back to the present and let his brain catch up on the conversation. Horror could wait. "And what is the point of magic and alchemy if not to occasionally spit in the eye of destiny? Homonculi are a dangerous branch of alchemy at best, and what you're talking about is closer to true magic anyway. Necromancy, specifically. But if the client doesn't want to involve any soul-magic then that point is moot." Windwright tapped his chin, thinking while he rummaged through his saddlebags for his notebook on transformations. "Alchemical transformations get more costly in terms of ingredients the longer you want it to last, and it's not a linear progression. To make my gender fluid last longer than a few hours it has to be condensed down into a syrup. I can dilute the dose I took that gave me eight months as a mare into probably a year's worth of potions taken twice a day, maybe longer if I just want an hour at a time. I'd probably drive extinct every single ingredient in the formula if I tried to push it past a year and it could only be administered by direct infusion or it'd take up too much space in the subject's stomach for them not to starve. That's one reason I've never tried to push the same formula out that long, alchemy just isn't good at permanent, stable solutions without decades of dedicated research. What it IS good at is making side effects more manageable or tolerable." He pulled his notebook out and opened it to one of the early pages, which was the start of a section dedicated to a treatise on transformation spells he'd copied out of a tome in the Canterlot library when he was fresh out of school. "Captain Compass, do you think you could modify this spell to work?" he asked, earmarking a page with a particularly complex thaumic diagram and passing the notebook over.

Propose. There was a loaded word for this context. Sī Jīn sighed and stood up to pace to the window. At this distance, most of the Empress's subjects would just assume that she was Yu Yuè so she wasn't worried about being seen. Precisely. "The two situations are at odds. Obviously the best thing to discourage the rumors would be s-separation." she advised after a moment, blushing and plowing on to cover her hesitation and stutter over the idea of being separated from Liàn, "But I cannot advise either you or the prince being left with no guards at all." Kami preserve, the idea of Liàn being left alone was bad enough, but if someone came after Yu Yuè while she was unguarded, it would devastate him. Especially if he found out it was on her advice. She pondered that for a moment, then added, attempting to moderate her tone to keep how nervous she was out of it, "Fu Feng is, for you at least, an option that will allow you to have a publicly known guardstallion, who is loyal to you personally over your throne. I wish I knew more about his combat capabilities, he and the prince often choose the same times to train, and I can't observe his training while helping Liàn's. "But that leaves Prince Liàn with only me, and your opponents at court would see that as an opportunity that would end up exposing me for what I am." She added, privately thinking 'A foolish girl putting her heart before his head.' but saying "A hidden blade now left in the open, and likely to be bypassed or eliminated." and letting the Empress realize how exposed that left him as she resumed her seat.

"A homunculus? That's a risky path even if we were trying to create a male sphinx, if the thaumic link between host and true bodies failed we might not be able to recover it fast enough to save both. And if the homunculus collapsed, or had no host to draw energy from it might parasitise the infant." Windwright commented to Rose, rubbing his chin. "Theoretically, we don't need a switch to be permanent or indefinite, just 'long enough'. Agreed?" He shook his head and returned his attention to the here and now, taking note of Nilaavin's reactions and body language, and Enbarr's by proxy, and filing the information away while he considered the question. He closed his eyes and said, in a thoughtful tone that suggested he was working through the idea as he spoke, "Well, I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a professional side to this. A great many alchemists have a well-deserved reputation for wanting to see if we can do something before considering whether we should do something. But there's more to it than that." he said, opening his eyes and nodding toward Bluebelle, "A friend of mine, one who has supported my work and let it reach more ponies in need of it, has asked for my input and help and I'd be a poor friend not to take that seriously. But more importantly than that, somecreature is in need of help and solace. In need of restoration and balm. You've been hurt and isolated, and it may be within my power to offer a solution, or at least part of one. I can't ignore that and stay who I am."

Windwright inclined his head politely to acknowledge that he was, in fact, Windwright the alchemist. He had earned a bit of a reputation in Ponyville, that boast and drinking contest a few years back had been the seed of that, unfortunately, rather than his alchemical prowess. Still, he was an infamous alchemist in these parts. He was about to respond to Bluebelle's introduction and Nilaavin's comment, when somecreature teleported in next to him. And all Tartarus broke loose. He cleared his throat and stood up, saying "Well, if I were looking for someone who might know how best to replicate transformative magics, I'd start that search with a creature known to be able to transform." in a tone of voice clearly meant to be diplomatic. "Especially since, if we're going to find an alchemical solution to your dilemma, it's going to take a LOT of looking." he added, mentally editing out the 'Assuming it can be done permanently at all, that is.' that he was thinking. He turned to the other alchemist he would presumably be working with and inclined his head again. "Windwright, alchemist." he introduced himself. "And the princess's method is certainly cheaper than mine."