For an easier life Circulation: 180,042,246 Issue: 446 | 4th day of Relaxing, Y12
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Mistakes, Regrets, and New Beginnings

by kingskid999


“I don’t know why you continue to save that faerie quest,” Beatrice declared, sprawling out across the length of the couch. She waved her hooves before her face, and tried to imagine them the beautiful shade of purple she wished them to be.

     Her owner, Monica, responded quickly. “Don’t drag out this argument again...” she snapped, folding yesterday’s wash. It was one of those humid, sticky days that keep pets inside, and make owners irritable.

     But the Ixi persisted, as she always did. “It’s been a year, Monica. You may as well use it on me. I’m not going to poof faerie, you know.”

     “But I could easily save up enough to paint you faerie! Calista still wants to be painted plushie. You know that. I have to use it on her, Bea.” Monica waved a pair of socks in the air. “Besides, maybe I should paint you Darigan anyway, if you continue being so grumpy.”

     Ignoring the jibe, Beatrice attacked at the word ‘easily’. “If it’s so easy to save up enough, why don’t you?” Truth be told, Beatrice was feeling desperate. Monica couldn’t use the FFQ on Calista! That stupid Cybunny! She was only a year or so old. Who did she think she was? Just because ‘the pound wasn’t kind to her’, she had the right to steal what was rightfully Beatrice’s? Beatrice, who had been around since the beginning? Beatrice, who had always been Monica’s? No. Beatrice could not, would not, let that happen.

     “Look,” Monica was still trying to reason with her pet. “Bea. Plushie is so expensive. I would never have enough to paint Calista plushie if I painted you faerie! I’m sorry, but I almost have enough-”

     “Almost enough doesn’t cut it!” Beatrice said, sneering, as she left.

     How could Monica be so cruel? Beatrice wondered. What did I ever do to her? Nothing! That’s what! And dumb old Calista...

     Beatrice continued to fume as she stormed her way to her room. And the worst part? she asked herself desperately, I can’t do anything about it!

     But that was where she subconsciously stopped herself. There was something she could do about it. Something she didn’t dare think about too much or she knew she would back out of it.

      She felt crafty as she opened her bedroom window, slyly sliding the screen over so she could squeeze through. The hot, moisture-laden air hit her as she scrambled to get her hips to fit.

     Right, she thought daringly, dropping herself down the ground from her window, grass squeezing into the cracks between her hooves.

     Time to go visit the Fountain Faerie.


     Monica sighed. Lately, Beatrice had become so difficult. Acting out. Disobeying. But, she sighed again, feeling suddenly very old, I suppose that is just a part of growing up.

     “Calista?” she called, and her adoring yellow Cybunny pranced in from the kitchen. She was so sweet and soft-spoken, so deserving of the fountain faerie quest. Monica knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

     “Yes, Monica? You called?” she said, subconsciously brushing her fur down straight with her paws. It was one of her nervous habits, a tick, if you will.

     “Let’s go get you painted. Just don’t tell Beatrice yet, ok?” Monica tagged that last bit on as an afterthought. Beatrice might become too upset and somehow try to wreck the ceremony, for a ceremony it was. Calista had wanted to be plushie for her whole life.

     “Of course!” Calista was beside herself with joy; she nearly upset the umbrella stand in her haste to get her coat, for she didn’t know the weather.

     “Forget the coat.” Monica smiled, ruffling Calista’s fur up again. “It's way too hot. Besides, I’ve heard stuffing is pretty warm anyway.”

     “Thank you so much, Monica! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

      Monica opened the door. The wave of heat rolled in, plowing through the air conditioning shield as though it wasn’t even there. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”


      The sun sparkled down on Faerieland, reflecting off of the tall building spires, filtering through the airborne dust, making it seem all the more magical. In the balmy weather, seeking shade among the vendors’ stalls, was Beatrice. She was headed for the Rainbow Fountain, but tourists and peddlers were blocking her path. She grunted irritably as she pushed her way through the crowd.

      Her shoulders sagged in delight when the cramped road gave way to the more open cloud spaces, and she could see the Rainbow Fountain. The Fountain Faerie waved her over.

      “Name?” she asked politely, her wonderfully faerie voice fluttering away on the wind.

      “My owner's name is Monica.” Beatrice panted, still out of breath.

      “You have one quest completed. Would you like to use your credit?”

      “Yes. Faerie paint, please...” Beatrice allowed her voice to trail off as her eyes roamed around the city. She could see the palace from here, and it was so perfect she nearly cried. But she didn’t. Everything was too surreal for her to take in just yet.

      “Faerie? Ok...” The Fountain Faerie bent over the pool, muttered some unintelligible words, and straightened up again. Somehow, the water was now a Fyora shade of purple. “Just take a dip, please!” she said, as she had been saying for several hundred years now.

      Beatrice closed her eyes, jumped, and felt the water flow around her. The liquid was the consistency of syrup. It enveloped her, pulling her slowly downward. Beatrice felt her ankle scratch something solid. The bottom of the pool, perhaps? She didn’t know.

      Beatrice began to notice that the feeling in her extremities began to fade. First to pins and needles, then to nothing. She began to thrash about, but her limbs wouldn’t obey her anymore. And suddenly, a sharp jolt of pain between her shoulder blades made her cry out. Liquid began to ooze into her mouth, but Beatrice coughed it out. Unfortunately, she also lost all the rest of her air supply. Her lungs began to collapse.

      I NEED AIR! She panicked and clawed her way to the surface. Later, she wasn’t quite sure how her legs obeyed her then. She just decided that the transformation must have been complete.

      As her face broke first, she made the mistake of opening her mouth immediately. She got a mouth full of purple magic goo as a result. Slowly, the substance dripped off of her as she coughed.

      “You look nice!” the Fountain Faerie complimented, and Beatrice instantly remembered what all of that had been for.

      “Thanks. Do you have a mirror?” Beatrice muttered, climbing out of the Rainbow Pool and shaking her head to rid the gunk from her ears. She felt like she was sticky; bubblegum or sugar water sticky. It was a nasty feeling, but obviously worth it, when she saw how gorgeous she looked in the Fountain Faerie’s looking glass.

      “Wow...” Beatrice mumbled. She looked like one of those pets she had always envied. Beautiful, stunning. Those huge sparkling wings really became her, she thought happily, twirling in front of the mirror for the best effect. She watched as they twitched when she asked them to, and she even managed a weak flap once. But the muscles were far too small to fly yet, so Beatrice thanked the Fountain Faerie and left the pool, glimmering rainbow again, behind her.


      Monica was beside herself with rage. “She did what?!?” she yelled at the Fountain Faerie, who looked sheepish.

      “I’m so, so sorry!” and even behind her sparkling eye shadow, Monica believed it. “I didn’t know she didn’t have your permission!” The beautiful faerie’s features were ruffled with confusion and regret.

      Poor Calista felt like she was choking on her disappointment. “It’s ok, Monica.” She tried to say it casually, but she just couldn’t manage it for some reason.

      “No, it is not ok.” Monica grabbed Calista by the paw. “Let’s go get your sister.”


      Beatrice thought she was dreaming. She stumbled through Faerieland feeling like she was sleepwalking. Her wings felt wonderfully strong already, and visions of soaring filled her head as she sauntered down the main streets of the city, feeling proud to boast its colors.

      That was, until she ran into Calista. And, of course, her owner.

      There was an awfully awkward silence.

      Beatrice gulped. She didn’t feel comfortable anymore. But suddenly, that evil voice in the back of her head took over. It isn’t wrong to take what is yours, it whispered; show it off.

      So Beatrice plastered a toothy smile on her face, and flaunted her fur. “How do you like?” she asked, purposefully not finishing her question. It makes me sound bold, she thought.

      “I HATE IT!” Monica screamed, her voice clearing the spot of tourists and their snapping cameras. “YOU WASTED OUR FOUNTAIN FAERIE QUEST! CALISTA WILL NEVER BE PLUSHIE NOW, BECAUSE OF YOU!”

      Beatrice turned up her nose at the annoying rant. “Chill,” she hissed. “I only took what was mine.”

      “No, Bea,” Calista said, her voice soft, sad and low. “You took what was mine. I’m happy that you finally got painted, but I wish you had waited.”

      Aha! that evil voice whispered again, you made her upset!

      But that wasn’t what I had wanted, was it? Beatrice asked herself, and the evil voice was silent.

      And Beatrice realized that, more than she had wanted to be faerie, that was what she had done it for. She had stolen Calista’s Fountain Faerie Quest not so that she could have wings, not to be a lovely shade of lilac. She had done it for one reason and one reason only; to make her sister cry.

      Beatrice’s smile faded, and her heart felt suddenly heavy. And then, her heart was shredded with the severity of what she had done. Beatrice wanted so badly for Calista to yell, to scream at her for having taken her only chance at what she wanted most. If only Calista would do so, and give Beatrice the ability to say, “See, I was justified”. But Calista wouldn’t help lift the burden from Beatrice’s shoulders, and Beatrice began to sob.

      “I’m so sorry, Calista!” she whimpered, nearly falling to her knees. “I’ve ruined everything.”

      “Yes, you have,” Monica called back over her shoulder, as she led the poor Calista back down the street. “Enjoy being faerie,” she hissed.

      Beatrice instantly became stubborn, and the tear flow halted. There has to be a way to fix this, she thought frantically, and I’m going to find it!

      I’ll just go have a talk with the Fountain Faerie.


      “I’m sorry, nothing I can do,” the Fountain Faerie said, after listening to Beatrice’s tale. “Though, I must say, it was rather horrid of you.”

      “I know.” Beatrice hung her head in disappointment. “Calista hates me now,” she whispered. “Monica hates me too. I’ve ruined everything.”

      “I can’t take back the paint, I’m sorry. The only thing I can do is give out quests...”

      Beatrice looked up, just as the faerie faded off, and knew they were both thinking the same thing.


      When Beatrice went home, exhausted, slightly ragged and still painted faerie, her owner snubbed her. Calista tried to hide the tears clouding her eyes as she stood to leave the room.

      “Wait,” Beatrice mumbled. “Calista. I’m... I’m really sorry for what I did. But I... I think I made it up.”

      “How could you possibly do that?” Monica asked, spitefully adding venom to the words she uttered.

      “I got you a new FFQ, Cal.” Beatrice slumped into a chair. “I got her some omelette, she called us even.”

      Calista squealed and threw herself at Beatrice. “Thank you, sis!”

      Monica managed a smile too. “I think you’ve finally grown into your wings.”

      “I think I have too.” Beatrice smiled back, still hugging her sister.

The End

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