A horse and a Quirlicorn

Fried Rice came home one day to find a merrily decorated envelope leaning on her window. At first, she wondered who might want to write to her, but Difèrne and Aria quickly came to her mind. 

“It’s funny how both of my friends are yellow,” she spoke to herself. Yellow, she had heard, symbolized friendship to some. Given her experience, she had to agree.

She mentally tried to guess who might’ve written the letter before flipping the letter over. She guessed wrong; she found Aria’s neat signature on the back of the envelope. She was more pleased than she cared to admit that the Group Horse kept in touch with her. Even though the mare often nagged her about Rice gaining magic of her own, something Rice insisted was impossible due to her genetics. In the end, Aria had been right, as always. “Is this an invitation for a joust?” the mare wondered out loud. It had been a while since they last jousted together. Rice smiled, eager to show her friend her new powers. 

She had recently developed fertility magic, which, as the name implied, meant that she could control plant growth. It wouldn’t be especially useful for combat, but the mare wasn’t interested in this sort of activity anyways. She had already planned a gardening area in her yard for when the weather conditions would improve; currently, a thin layer of frost covered the grass, making it appear ghostly. 

Since Baroque, Difèrne’s husband and a commendable user of magic, was away for an undefined period of time, Rice hoped that Aria this joust with Aria would help her get a better hold of her magic. Or actually, magics. Rice had also found out that she was also able to control gem growth. She was unsure whether the two were connected, giving that they touched upon two completely different matters, but they worked similarly enough for her to question their relation. 

She finally opened the letter and found a hand crafted invitation. Still in Aria’s writing, she read:

“You are cordially invited to celebrate Scribble’s well deserved retirement. There will be party games and friendly jousting. Bring snacks!”

Scribble? Fried Rice had never met her. Or him. She slipped the invitation back into the envelope, refusing to waste her time awkwardly meeting a stranger... Aria was her friend though. And group horses were known to be kind and welcoming (for the most part). Would there be other group horses outside of Aria and this Scribble? Who would attend the party at all? How many quirlicorns?

She grabbed the invitation again, realizing that she hadn’t looked at the time and location of the party. It was rather far away from where she lived, if not to say across the world. That alone made Rice reconsider. She didn’t know enough about the lands in order to safely travel. Perhaps if Difèrne could accompany her, she would feel more comfortable? The yellow mare had travelled to and fro across the lands for years on end. However, it turns out that Aria had considered Rice’s situation: on the back of the letter was scribbled an address with instructions to find a certain lesser deity with wormhole magic who will be able to transport her to the party (said lesser deity was also invited to the party). 

Lesser deity? The mare shuddered at the thought of approaching such a powerful quirlicorn. After debating on whether she would attend, the mare decided that she should, for Aria’s sake. She figured it would also be a nice change of scenery since she wasn’t especially busy at the moment.

A cool breeze slid across her flanks. The mare quickly entered her house, shivering. Next time, she would read letters indoors. 

Now, as per the invitation, she had to come up with a snack idea. 

Inspired by the chilly weather, Fried Rice baked some gingerbread cookies. It wasn’t yet Christmas, yet she insisted on shaping them like trees and snowflakes to challenge her decorating skills.

Before heading out to the rendez-vous point with the wormhole-wielding quirlicorn, Rice carefully placed the cookies in a basket and wrapped her flanks in a bulky blanket. She reached the address in no time. 

Several quirlicorns were waiting, huddled together to block the wind. “Are you here for Scribble?” A tall stallion asked. Rice nodded, showing the envelope she had received. “Good, we’re all here then, let’s go.” He opened a wormhole. 

It… was so big. The mare dug her hooves in the frozen dirt, resisting the suction of the portal as the other quirlicorns entered one by one. Once it was her turn, she looked at the stallion. “This is my first time. What should I expect?”

The stallion smiled. “You will be disoriented. Watch your step, the terrain on the other side may have a different inclinaison.”

The mare nodded in return. She held her breath, closed her eyes and stepped into the psychedelic portal. 

She stepped into the other location immediately, as if she was crossing a threshold. When she opened her eyes, the world was slowly panning in front of her eyes. She shook her head and it went away. “Woah,” she said aimlessly. The frozen plains had shifted into a snowy town. Everyone stepped in place trying to keep warm after the sudden temperature change. 

“A flower shop?” she said, looking at the sign of the building in front of the group. Letters were half-masked with snow and tinsel lazily hung from the sign.

The stallion leaped out of the portal. “We’re here.” He walked inside despite the “closed” sign on the front door. Everyone followed. 

The stallion led them to a backroom. In passing, Rice couldn’t help but to try her magic on a sprout that had been left next to a watering can. She squinted. It grew by a centimeter, but otherwise did not bloom. 

The backroom was well lit. More quirlicorns were gathered there. Rice was not expecting everything to be so loud: quirlicorns were pushing furniture around, setting table clothes and gifts on tables and overall trying to have conversations with one another. Through the crowd, she spotted Aria’s yellow and perlino coat. She tentatively pushed her way through the crowd after adding her cookies to the pile of goodies.

Aria was teasing another quirlicorn who had tinsel stuck in her antlers.

“Please take them out!” the tinsel-ed quirlicorn whined. 

“Aww, but you look so festive,” a blue-streaked stallion responded. “At least keep them for the party. You’re on theme!” The other grumbled a response. 

Aria noticed Fried Rice approaching and ran over. “You made it! I was worried you wouldn’t like to be in a crowd.”

“Who’s this?” A black quirlicorn who up to now had been munching on cookies asked. Fried Rice though she looked like a hen, with her red face marking. She wondered if it would be impolite to bring it up. 

“That’s Rice! I’m currently coaching her,” Aria smiled, side-hugging the said mare with her tail. “She still hasn't completely figured magic out yet, but she’s still a good jouster.” She then turned to Rice. “This is Scribble, the party girl.” 

Rice forced a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Imagine still being a group horse,” the blue-streak stallion teased. 

“That’s Kestrel,” Aria told Rice. “And that-” she gestured to a pink stallion who busied himself hanging a mistletoe crown on the wall “-is Daze.” She turned her attention to the quirlicorn with tinsel in her antlers. “That’s Yesenia. All of them are retired group horses.” The quirlicorns waved. 

“I think that was the last group,” Yesenia said, reaching for a strand of tinsel in her peripheral vision. 

“I haven’t finished decorating, though,” Daze said, holding up a bundle of tinsel. 

“It’s fine, you can do that while we eat all the cookies,” Scribble pulled her tongue out at him. He returned the gesture mockingly. 

Fried Rice wishes she could say she enjoyed the party, but for the most part, it was simply a glorified brunch with sugary treats. Quirlicorns fought for Scribble’s attention as they offered her their best wishes and, occasionally, presents. Everyone here seems to be well acquainted with the group horses and told anyone and everyone the fun just adventures they had together. 

After what seemed an eternity, Aria loudly announced the beginning of the joust and games. 

As everyone rushed outside, Rice approached the group horse. 

“Are you having fun?” Aria asked excitingly. When she noticed her friend’s hesitation, she said: “No worries, the games are beginning now. It’ll be easier to make friends this way.” 

“Yes, well… speaking of jousts, I believe I’ll need your help. See, I’ve developed my first magic and-”

“That’s great!” Aria exclaimed. “Sorry, continue.”

“Well, I don’t think I can channel it properly. Do you have any advice concerning this?”

Aria’s eyes were sparkling. “Of course! First things first: what magic do you have?”

“I believe it’s called fertility.”

Aria led her to the main shop’s area, which Rice now noticed was also decorated with tinsel. “It so happens that we’re in the perfect location for this. Daze owns this store. I’m sure he’ll be okay with you practicing with his weaker flowers.”

After some explanations on the origins of the magic -it was one of Jameet’s magic, from the plains region- Aria began giving Rice some tips on how to channel magic in general. 

“One thing you must be conscious of, is that magic isn’t part of your body: it’s one with your soul. You will sense it flow when you use it, but this is nothing to worry about. That being said, you don’t have to squeeze it out of yourself. It’s important to stay relaxed and let your mind do the effort.”

Aria showed her a little footwork to help ward off the tension in her joints before encouraging her to try out her power. 

Rice took a deep breath and, focusing her attention on the sprout she had noticed when coming in, ordered it to grow. Not literally, of course; she didn’t speak “plant”. It grew a bit more under her intense stare. 

“Excellent! You’re a natural!” Aria cheered. Rice broke her focus.

“This is normal?” she asked, confused as to why the group horse was celebrating such a small success.

“Of course! You’ve only recently gained your magic yet you were able to noticeably make it grow. Just you wait until your magic grows stronger: you’ll be able to grow plants just by touching them.”

“It’ll grow?”

“Of course! Quirlicorns are rarely born with complete control over their magic. It takes years of hardwork and conditioning to master your first magic. Don’t worry, though. It gets easier with each magic.”

Rice blinked. So all of this time, she thought she couldn’t wield her magic, but it turned out she was actually at a standard level? She looked at the sprout and realized that her magic was practically useless until she mastered it. 

“I can also do something else,” she said, growing a marble-sized gem from nothing. Aria’s eyes widened. 

“That’s Jagmeet’s gift!” she exclaimed. “That’s a truly special magic you have there. Only those who attend solstices and equinox celebrations held by the greater deities are granted such powers.” She thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps they are becoming a tad more common.” 

Rice stared at the mint coloured gem on the ground. So was she special? Had Jagmeet noticed her arrival in the quirliverse and decided to bless her somehow? She shrugged it off.

A snowball splattered on the window. 

“Come on, we’re missing the jousts!” Aria said, trotting towards the door.

Even though her magic was useless in the jousts, Rice had to admit that this part of the celebration was a lot more fun that the last. The quirlicorns fought in snowball fights, competed to see who could make the best snowhorses (Rice’s team lost despite integrating tinsel and other Christmas ornaments in their build) and then gathered inside for a cup of hot cocoa. Yesenia was finally liberated from the tinsel that had been stuck in her antlers the entire time of the party. 

Quirlicorns began leaving the room. Someone came to fetch Rice. “Our lift is leaving, so you best come with us unless you want to walk back to the plains region.”

The mare said goodbye to her friend and then gave Scribble her best wishes. 

It was dark out when she crossed that lesser deity’s portal back to her home. She would have to clear the snow from her path tomorrow, but for now, she was content simply going to bed and replaying the events of the evening in her mind until she fell asleep, lulled by the sound of the wind against her window.