Wish Upon A Star Pt.II
IC date: Autumn 64, 1008
OOC date: November 22, 2013
Location: Castle Vanity
PCs: Hatch, Hemlock, Pickle-Barrel, Wishy-Washy,
NPCs: N/A
GM: Wishy-Washy

Castle vanity. after nearly 2 weeks of suddenly appearing, there has been no sign of hostility unless approached. a strange event or two has occursed, such as the fountain in the town square drying up and reports of falling stars, but other than that, things have been still, and the clock tower still rings out every night and day at the appropriate times.

Whispers of rumors have spread across the town of the treasure that awaits at the top of the clocktower… one's wishes and dreams could come true if anypony should try to brave the castle defenses! of course, even the fastiest of fliers and the most stalwart of ponies have been repelled thanks to the shower of arrows that awaits intruders.

Although the folks at town hall are not appreciative and are looking for a good plan of removal, some have decided that getting rid of the castle and claiming the treasure isn't a job for the town guard.

Queen has been busy, well actually not busy at all - spending the majority of her time reading various books whose subjects range from magical artifacts to lore to carpentry - not the most rivetting of reads.

Pickle-Barrel wanders slowly past town hall, hauling a small wagon laden with barrels. The barrels themselves are laden with arrows, causing several of the barrels to spring small dribbling leaks of vinegar. Not noticing the damage for the moment, he stares up blankly at a road sign in town, trying to get his bearings. As he turns to the right, his eye is squirted with vinegar, and he sputters. "Dang't, not again!"

A gentle "Psst!" rings out from someplace… echo-y… beneath pickel-barrel, perhapps…? something shakes underneath the green stallion's hooves, and a waft of cyan smoke puffs up from underneath.

Hatch can be found sitting against one of the walls of Town Hall staring up at the castle. The earth pony hates adventure and risk-taking, but more than that he hates inconvenience. It's hard to even consider trotting near the castle with so many skilled archers about. There is one distraction to him, though, as he sees the pony carrying a few barrels… then getting squirted by one… then having smoke appear from underneath him. "Excuse me… sir?"

Pickle-Barrel looks around, not finding anyone immediately in the vicinity who could be trying to get his attention. Then suddenly a voice calls out - the same one? He's not sure. But it's enough to make him leap into the air in surprise, since the pony has apparently come from directly in front of him. After landing back on the ground, and ensuring his heart has remembered to start beating again, he gives the brown pony a mild glare. "Scared me there a bit, mate."

Guards are for chumps. Really, who would need them? It's not like they ever accomplish anything, not when heroes show up. However, really big walls do, especially in the absence of siege weapons. This has meant that Hemlock has spent a considerable amount of time glowering at the walls, wearing his black cloth armour (which jingles when he walks, not all cloth!) and wishing he had a ballista, or a siege tower, or like, a cannon. He looks grumpy, although grumpy for Hemlock is equivalent to 'contemplative and happy' for most ponies.

When Pickle-Barrel's forehooves come back down they make a loud metalic *CLANK!* underneath seems to be… a manhole? ponyhole? Sewer access! this city has working plumbing, so naturally it has to have a proper sewer system, yes? the cyan smoke from before seeps back underneath the lid, and that etherial "PSST!" rings out through the air again.

Not only does the Harbor have a sewer system, it also has a series of tunnels used for smuggling; as some ponies found out during all that business with Nice Co. Subterranean passage might be ideal for infiltrating the castle; unless you need some of them newfangled speed holes.

Hatch only stares at the other earth pony for a moment, an eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry," he says before looking down at his hooves. "Would you mind, uh… moving, just a… see, there's a…" Eventually, an idea comes to mind, helping him formulate a much clearer sentence. "Please move, sir. I'm interested in that manhole cover." Sounds normal enough, right?

Pickle-Barrel cocks his head sideways, then shrugs. "Sure, whatever floats' yer boat," he answers, as he pulls himself and the cart back a couple steps, clearing the area directly over the sewer access. "Why d'ya s'pose they's called 'manholes' anyway? Seems a mite strange name for somethin."

What are those two doofuses up to? Hemlock thinks the word doofus in the msot complimentary of ways, but to be fair, they are fussing around a entrance to the sewers…

The sewers. right. The big stallion gets up and starts to casually make his way over, no need to intrude just yet. He'll join in if they seem to be doing somehting. If they are just, for example, sewer enthusiasts, then he has no need to get involved

"Yes, come… there's a way inside through the tunnels… please help. you're the only ponies to have actually listened to my plea…!" rings out an etherial voice. "Hurry, my time grows short. she will notice I am missing."

Hatch trots towards the cover, leaning down to listen - that is, until there's an order to hurry. Having seen the catastrophe at the theater, the earth pony has a good guess of where this is going. "You," he says as he quickly kicks the cover open. "Should anypony ask, you have no seen me. Of course, they're less likely to ask you questions should you join me." He has know idea just who Pickle Barrel is, let alone if he could be of any use, but the stallion is truly unprepared to undergo this alone. Immediately after speaking, he hops into the manhole cover, bringing his hooves into a proper landing position and hoping that there is a dry surface below him.

Pickle-Barrel scratched his head. He didn't know there were ghost ponies in the sewers of Filladelphia. Which is where he was certain now he was at, given that he had just been shot at for no reason again, and there appeared to be a castle which could only belong to Prince Fresh, sitting in the middle of town. Strange, though, Fillydelphia didn't usually smell so… oceany. Still, there was no reason not to meet a ghost pony. Especially since he was apparently with a ghost-pony-hunter! Still, he was frozen in surprise at just how quickly the seemingly shy pony had leapt into action!

Oh wait hold on, that's Wishy's voice. Hemlock's ears flick back at the sound of a very familiar and cherished mare speaks. He shakes his head, and a smile grows on his face. "Coming, my dear." It seems that one stallion has the right idea, and Hem rushes over and swoops down in to the tunnels himself. "Do join us if you like, we could use a strong, handsome stallion such as yourself," is said to Pickle Barrel in passing.

Pickle-Barrel snapped out of shock, wondering now "did that stallion just hit on me?" Still… ghost ponies! Plus the sewers of Fillydelphia must be safer than the mean, oddly fishy smelling, streets. "Hold up, I'm a'commin down wit' ya." With that, he made his way onto the awkward stairs, and slid the cover most of the way back over the hole before descending.

Well, the very obvious thing that no pony, no matter how they expect it to be, can prepare for assaults the nostrils. immediate and horrible Nausea aside, though, there is a very much solid and not poo juice surface to walk upon thank goodness. the cyan cloud seems to start to flow away, flow away towards a part of the wall nearby that had crumbled when the new castle arose from the ground. getting over there without becoming very messy might require a good jump or two, even for pegasus due to the closed confines of the sewer.

Hatch reaches into a pocket in his jacket and brings a hankerchief to his nostrils as soon as he collects himself from the landing, turning back to the two ponies who have joined, one whom he did not expect, but can recognize from the theater. His face turns about several times between the crumbled wall and the two stallions. "I don't think any plan in the world can help us here," he says as he trots his wawy towards it, "… but anything is worth a shot." The earth pony shakes his head, trying to brace himself for the passage ahead.

Hemlock swings on down with ease, landing on the solid and good surface with a flourish. It takes a shake of his ehad to get rid of the worst of the smell, the stallion brews poisons as a hobby, he can handle this. He looks over at the crumbled wall, and more importantly, the retreating cyan smoke. "Oh come now, it'll be easy. I have you two handsome lads to back me up, and I'm no slouch myself. I'm Hemlock, by the way, hero for hire, who are you?" He moves on over towards the crumbly bit, gauging distance.

Pickle-Barrel grunts, doing his best to ignore the horrid smell. One might think that a pickler would be used to acrid smells… and that would be true, but those smells were floral compared to the combined body waste of even a small city. Looking ahead somewhat nervously at the long jump, he regreted that he left his saddlebags home… rope woulda been nice. "Pickle Barrel. Farmer out in a small town off on the coast," he said, introducing himself. He was pretty sure he was not going to make that jump without getting messy, as he was built more for endurance than agility.

It's easy enough. it's a good 5 foot gap seperating the flowing waste and the open section of the wall. the cyan cloud leaves a tiny bit of a trail for ponies to follow as it quietly retreats through the passage and what looks like a wine cellar!

GAME: Hatch made a skilled roll with an outcome of Good.
GAME: Pickle-Barrel made an unskilled roll with an outcome of Abysmal.

Hatch continues to stare at the wall for several moments, as if waiting long enough will bring it closer, but eventually shrugs and puts his hankerchief away, trotting backwards a few feet, then galloping towards the small hole in the wall with one great leap as he reaches the edge. The outcome looks rather unfortunate as his front hooves barely reach the other side, but he catches it with those hooves, and in one quick movement pulls himself up. Coughing from the nauseating smell, he takes the same hankerchief out to wipe his hooves, and trots back to make room for the other two.

Hemlock beams at Hatch as he takes the first go. "Impressive form, sir." Not that it's anything that can compare to the hero. Hemlock takes a step back, then charge forward and leaps!

He clears the gap without too much trouble. You don't survive as a hero without being able to jump big gaps, not for long at least. Hemlock turns aroudn to wave across. "Come now Pickle Barrel, your turn!"

Pickle-Barrel nods to himself, psyching himself up. If those other two could make it, so could he. He pushed back a couple meters from the edge, gave a snort, and broke into a gallop, intending to leap from the edge. He was going to make it. He prepared to push off hard with his rear hooves, only to suddenly find his rear hooves were no longer in contact with the ground. It wasn't until he was halfway down that he realized he had literally run off the side of the path without actually jumping, per se. A moment later, his nostrils and forelegs simultaneously hit the murky fluid, splashing unmentionable odors halfway up the walls. Luckily, it wasn't so deep here that he couldn't stand and breath, but he was pretty embarassed. "I'll… just… climb up them hoofholds then, shall I?" he asked in a small voice, as he moved to climb up.

Hemlock winces. "Maybe that's for the best."

Wishy-Washy's gasious form lets otu an etherial sigh and shivers. "Will you hurry up? I promise I'll clean you up with my magic once I've had a chance to recharge, but… I'm really growing weak being away from the lamp while I have a misstress… speaking of which, I think she went to lay down. this might be your big chance…!"

Pickle-Barrel hauls himself up, dripping miserably. "Might be best to stand upwind a bit," the now somewhat brownish pony said. It'd be a vinegar bath tonight, that's for sure.

There isn't time to be amusing, Wishy Washy is calling. "Hear that Pickle? You'll get cleaned up soon, just follow me! It seems the lady is waiting, and I'm sure you know not to do that." Hemlock grins, bows, and then turns to trot off at a measured, but still fast, pace.

Hatch nods to Hemlock, keeping pace with him and occasionally looking back to Pickle. "Please understand, mister Hemlock," Hatch says, his tone rather calm and cold, "That should things take a turn for the worst, I will first think of myself." He continues to trot and look ahead, his expression showing little to no shame in his words. "It's simply how I am."

This certainly was a gambit… Misstress wasn't going to be happy of this betrayal if she discovers the castle is going to be covered in poo…. thankfully the path the wishy cloud leads the ponies on is one that is uneventful and doesn't involve arrows. she quickly zips by the wine cella rand comes up in a hall made of obsidian stone and lined with all sorts of gold statues and such. one hardly gets to enjoy the harpsicord ditty with the way she rushes about, but… one can certainly learn of the narcisim of the pony who owns this palace simply by looking around.

Eventually there's an opening to the courtyard, and more importantly, the entrance to the clocktower unto which a large spire hangs off of. in front of the entrance to the tower though is a strange creature. at first, one might think it to be a griffon with the wings and the cat like hind paws, but it also has feline forepaws as well, and the face of… some sort of strange monkey. it looks intriguedly at the ponies being lead by cloud.

Pickle-Barrel follows at a slight distance. Turn for the worst? They're in a sewer, for Luna's sake! And… there's a wine cellar in this sewer. And gold statues. And a courtyard. "Wait, are we robbing a castle?" he suddenly whispers, as his eyes catch notice of the strange creatures ahead.

Hemlock smiles back at Hatch. "If you are capable of keeping yourself safe I wuld love for you to do so. If things go poorly I will take care of everypony I can, possibly by just dealing with the threat. Do as you see fit sir, I am not your commander." Not that he isn't acting like it. Still, he stays silent as they trot on through. Upon spotting the creature, his smile takes on a larger, but less gentle look. "I believe the correct term, Pickle Barrel, is rescuing a damsel." He reaches in to his bags, and pulls out a bone white mask with a long beak, and puts it on.

Pickle-Barrel grunts. He's never kidnapped anypony before… but then again, is it kidnapping if the pony wants you to take them? Morally, he's comfortable. Physically, not so much… he glances his gaze to each side, looking for anything that might do as a makeshift weapon, just in case.

The cat creature keeps it's bemused monkey stare on the other ponies, staying in front of the door. it does not attack, it merely greets. "Hello." it says in an ambiguously gendered voice. "My misstress does not wish to be disturbed. I cannot let you pass unless you solve a riddle."

Hatch stops in his tracks as he sees the creature in the courtyard. "Very well," he answers, relieved that he needs not resort to any sort of violence. The earth pony is in no mood to serve as a distraction for the other two, considering that is his best use. "What is this riddle?"

If nopony else is going to walk forward, Hemlock will. The stallion walks forward, grinning but you wouldn't be able to tell. "Please, give us the riddle so we may pass." He's got this on lockdown don't eve worry baout it.

Pickle-Barrel moves to the side slightly, less tense now that violence seems unlikely. Still, he wasn't sure about Prince Fresh being addressed as a mistress… maybe he'd found a girlfriend?

It flairs it's wings and stares out with it's gray, deep eyes with wide pupils. "I am neither Liquid nor gas. Your presence here means that we are at an impasse. I can only exist if I am alone. I want to live on my own. What am I?"

Hemlock opens his mouth to answer, and then frowns. "Huh, do we have a limited amount of guesses?"

The Sphinx shakes it's head. "You do not. you do, however, have until the golem patrol notices there's an intruder and riddles your squishy bodies into pincushions!"

Hemlock thinks on that. "Well if we have until I am bested by mere guards we'll be here forever, unless I answer your riddle." He holds up a hoof. "Loneliness?"

Hatch taps a hoof against his chin, so far rather stumped as he mutters in thought. "Liquid… nor gas… alone…" With a heavy sigh, he turns to the other two, hoping to Celestia somepony has an idea as he continues to think. His eyes perk at Hemlock's answer. Perhaps he was overcomplicating the question himself, and he gives a firm nod to the sphinx, as if to agree to the other stallion's answer.

Pickle-Barrel nods. Loneliness seems to fit the riddle. At least partially. But then, something else occurs to him. "Or perhaps, independence?"

The creature shakes her head quickly, frowning. "you are both incorrect, but yet you are warm,."

Hatch stomps a hoof in frustration, his mind racing as he tries to ponder /some/ sort of answer. Finally looking up to the sphinx, he speaks while shaking his head, rather unsure of his answer. "… A monarch?"

"Colder," the sphinx calmly states… there's some sounds of heavy hooves and armor ringing out in the dead of night as well…

Pickle-Barrel says "Hmm… what would be between independence and loneliness… some other feeling or state of being…""

Hemlock perks up slightly, from being 'lost in thought'. "Solitude?"

The Sphinx gently folds it's wings and rises up, STRETCHING lazily before stepping to the side. It gives the beak masked pony a nod. "You may pass."

HOOF BUMP! Hemlock does it again! The stallion lets out a (comparatively) quiet cheer before prancing forwards. "Come on now colts, we have a damsel to rescue!"

Pickle-Barrel grins at Hemlock, following along. "Nice job."

Hatch is already on his way towards the entrace, the sound of hooves coming off as far from inviting to him as he trots by Hemlock's side. "Well done."

The cyan mist winds up a set of stairs once on the inside… lots of stairs, candlelight, and the occasional point where one has to use the large ticking gears of the clock tower as a path way… the occasional open slats on the walls give a really excelent view of the harbor, which may or may not tip off Pickel-Barrel that he is very much in the wrong place.

Eventually, the top is reached, and a pathway leading to a staircase is visible! the only problem is that there's another giant clock to match the one on the face of the tower suspended above an abyss as the only path foreward! there is a rather large gear on the wall to the left, and several of the points on the clock have little passage ways or alcoves in them.

//http://puu.sh/5qBbN.jpg//

Hemlock comes to a halt at the edge of the abyss, and looks down. "Well that's interesting." He looks around at the room. "I think, my friends, what we have here is a puzzle." He sits down again. "These never were my strongest suit."

Pickle-Barrel looks at the abyss, thinks back to the brown still clinging to his fur and mane, and shudders.

Hatch turns back to Pickle and Hemlock. "I may be able to make it onto that gear, and perhaps you might as well, Hemlock, but with it rotating in that way, I fear it will be difficult to bring you along, Pickle, unless you have any ideas."

There is a gear on the wall right by the 6 o'clock position that the ponies are at, and they can see another similar gear at the 9 o'clock position. the tunnel at eleven o'clock has something caged, although it' shard to tell what from the poor lighting. at 3 o'clock though is a rather inviting looking Treasure chest!

Pickle-Barrel grunts. "Well, it's… a clock. looks like it's about eight thirty to me. Wish I'd brought some rope." He sits, staring at the ticking second hand. too narrow to consider. "Gimme a hoof here, lets see if we can't change the time with this here gear."

The effort required to move this specific gear on the wall is a bit tough, but one able-bodied stallion seems to be enough to wind it. it controls the minute hand from the looks of things…!

Pickle-Barrel pushes the gear around until the minute hand has made a full rotation and returned back to the orientation facing him and his companions. That done, he peeks his head out to see where the other hand is facing now.

Hemlock watches all of this with great interest. "Hold on, before you do that." The stallion hops on to the minute hand, the one right by them. "We want to make sure we're doing things for a reason, yes? I'll act as scout." Beam.

After one clockwise rotation, the minute hand ends up back at it's original position, and the hour hand CLANKS foreward. the current time reading is 9:30. Thankfully, the minute hand is made of some sturdy metal and more than hold's hemlock's weight, although staying there for long means that the second hand might trip him up!

Hatch remains as close to the clock as he can be. It's not like he can really do much to help Hemlock from there, but an idea suddenly comes to mind. His eyes dart to one of the nearby gears, looking for one of a faster pace. Finally, he makes his way onto the minute hand, quickly making his way to the gear by 9 o'clock, his eyes watching out for that second hand. Upon reaching it, he gives it a push with all of his might, hoping he has found the right one

Hemlock watches the two handsome lads who are with him, and prances to the center quite happily, to watch for danger.

Click click click! the hour hand rotates clockwise and-

BING BING DING DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RING RING BING DONG!!!!!!!!!!!

BONG!!!!

BONG!!!!!!!!!

Pickle-Barrel looks up, wide-eyed. "That's not a GOOD sound…"

Hemlock laughs to himself as the rinign sounds out. "Of course it is, it means we win! Pickle, put your bridge section over so our lovely friend can jump on, then return it to yourself, then we have a full bridge!"

Wishy-Washy's cloud winces as the horrible loud ringing in her… Cloud? "Hurry! she's going to wake up now! I feel so stupid! I should have asked you to wind it counter-clockwise! stupid, stupid!"

Pickle-Barrel nods, adjusting the gear to move the minutes to read '45.' "We coulda' tried for 6 o'clock instead, you know," he mutters, ears still ringing

Wishy-Washy leads the ponies up a long staircase open over the harbor, up into a throne rooom that's empty and not lit. beside the impressive throne and all the artwork about and the killer view of the harbor, there's a gleaming golden arabian lamp with a amythist star at the top. the Wishy cloud seeps into the glass case and into the lamp as well.

Pickle-Barrel stares at the glass case. Is that how ghosts work? Also, since when did Fillydelphia have its own harbor… oh… oops. Still, job to do. "Don't suppose anypony brought a glasscutter?"

Hemlock prances up and over to the glass case. "Pfft, as if." He sticks a hoof in one of his saddlebags, and rummages. About two seconds later he pulls out a vial. "Acid is way better for eating through glass. Or at least mine is." He takes off the mask (it's hard to use your mouth when it is completely covered, who knew) and pops the cork. "Unless you have a better idea?"

Pickle-Barrel shakes his head. "Good enough for me." In truth, he thought it might set off alarms… but just breaking the glass or trying to lift it was even more certain to do so. Not that they hadn't already set off some alarms at this point…

Hemlock nods, knowing full well it's not the perfect crime. Still, he's good at what he does, applying only enough acid to eat away at the glass. It's powerful stuff, and doesn't take long, so Heml;ock reaches in to SAVE THE DAMSEL FROM THE WICKED TOWER. In all caps.

Wishy-Washy's lamp is nice and light, and once the weight of the light lamp is in hoof, an alarm does indeed go off, with a loud and annoyed groan ringing out from one of the side rooms! better run!

Pickle-Barrel groans as the alarm goes off. "I really hate being right. These museums have no sense of humor. Let's go!" He started into a gallop

Hemlock's grin manages to grow EVEN MORE as the alarm goes off. He turns to Pickle Barrel, figuring Hatch would have kept to his promised and disappeared for his own safety, good stallion. "Mr. Pickle, if you would like to lead? I'll watch your back." wishy's lamp has disappeared somehwere, but it's just /gone/.

Wishy-Washy's lamp shakes violently from wherever it's stored. "Quick! rub me! I can get us out of here if you wish it, and… sh-she's still my misstress…I h-hard… disobeying…"

Hemlock stop, and rolls his eyes. "Why didn't I think of that?" His hoof disappears in to the folds of his clothes, and comes out with the lamp. He nuzzles it (it counts hush) to call forth Wishy. "Oh Wishy darling, mind if I ask a favour? It is my greatest wish that my friends and I could go get a drink at say, the bucket?"

Wishy-Washy comes exploding out of the lamp, a cyan tornado sweeping up Pickel barrel, Hatch, and Hemlock, simultaneously cleaning them and lifting them off to the rusty bucket before dropping them off on the deck…! "Your wish is my command, Master Hemlock….!"

Pickle-Barrel manages to only look mildly freaked out, gasping like a fish at the sudden change in scenery. It takes him a moment to realize exactly where he is. "On the positive side, I could use a cider or three. On the down side, my cart is still back in Fillydel… wait, I guess that was Manehattan."

Hemlock laughs. "I'll help you gather your things from twn square, but first, allow me to treat you to a drink." He bows to Pickle, then turns back to Wishy. "Well I'm glad you're out of there, I'll keep an eye out to try and make sure Queen Pegasus doesn't both you again. I must isist on you being freee, though, I wouldn't want to be your master, Wishy."

Wishy-Washy floats on down, her top half in it's solid and very much unicorn form. her forehooves are crossed over her chest. "Then you have two more wishes to make, Master. and really, don't Wish for my freedom. that could have more catastrophic effects then the damage I have already caused…"

Pickle-Barrel looks over. "What happens after he makes his wishes, then, do you go back to queen meanie or whoever it is?

Wishy-Washy shakes her head. "Our contract is over. Thank you, by the way… she's honestly got a cold right now, so, I figured right now would be the best to catch her off guard. Snowfield did try to rescue me, but she just took queen on head-on and I had to protect her….

Pickle-Barrel nods. "Well, maybe there's a problem, but I'm not seeing it."

Pickle-Barrel then pales. "No, now I see it. Powerful queen with castle, not going to be happy when she figures out who took her… um… genie then? Sorry I thought you were a ghost at first."

Wishy-Washy nods slowly. "Indeed. actually, I made that castle appear in town a couple of weeks ago… she wanted a place of solitude where nopony could ever bother her. I tried controlling it, because my horn wanted to send her to a cave in the frozen north… that's the scary thing about being a genie; you don't even have control over your most powerful magic."

Hemlock stammers, and looks flustered. "Wish? I, I don't know." He sits down, scratching the back of his head. "I've got everything I want, Wishy, really. I've done all I need to." He looks up and grins. "All I want is for you to be happy and safe, maybe returning the Harbour to normal would do that? Yeah, I wish the castle was gone!" His face softens. "But do make sure that Queen Pegasus isn't hurt. That would be terrible."

Pickle-Barrel says "could send her and her castle to that nice cave in the frozen north then? She'd still have her castle of solitude or whatever. And she'd be safely far away.""

Hemlock frowns. "No, I don't want her exiled. she will be brought to justice here."

Wishy-Washy shoots on up into sthe sky, her horn aglow like a lighthouse beacon as she shoots a ray of light at the clock tower, poofing the castle and restoring the town square in an instant. Wishy then floats down and nods. "She's been returned to her boat, although after you make this last wish, Master, I'm… I'm likely going to have to flee. thank you for everything you've done, though… from that first day where you helped me with my wagon, to this, I really cannot thank you enough…

Hemlock waves a hoof, as if she's thanking him for nothing. "Wishy it has been my honour. I've enjoyed getting to know you, it's reward enough." He sighs, a dramatic, overdone sigh. "I suppose if I really must make one last wish, I wish for a kiss on the cheek, and your promise that you'll stay safe and happy." Cheating the system, hoorah~

Wishy-Washy nonds and leans in, placing a gentle peck on the older stallion's cheek. She then takes her lamp into her magical aura and reforms her hind legs before pressit it to her cutie mark, where it seems to meld in, giving the cutie mark a golden luster. "thank you… I should be able to keep my complete form like this momentarily to hide it… I have to go see Snowfield before I leave." Wishy quietly starts to trot down the gangplan leading back to the port streat.

Hemlock blushes furiously, before bowing low. "Have a wonderful night, Wishy Washy." the, grinning like an idiot, he goes and prances off in to the bucket, he owes Pickle Barrle a drink.