"It should be in here. If anything goes right today, it should be right in here."

"And what if it isn't? What if you're wrong and this is another one of those big rooms with the water again?"

"You're always so cynical, Tanta. Why are you always so quick to put others down?"

"All of you, be quiet," the leader of this griffon squad commands as he stops himself and his team. "We're here."

The four griffons that have been bickering find themselves inside a large room, filled with sand, odd pony engravings on every wall and ceiling tile, and tall, ten-foot totems holding candles that seem to still be burning after a millennia. These totems have engravings also, but they are etched with Old Ponish text rather than hieroglyphs. The air is cold, howling, fitting well with the grey and blue environment of this expansive ancient chamber.

The griffons make a steady, cautious pace down a wide, sand-riddled bridge that connects the entrance of this room to the far end, where a large metal pedestal holds a luminescent green relic. This eerie artifact is a black-onyx hourglass with emeralds encrusted at the rims, containing an odd essence inside of it which appears to have the granulated texture of sand, but the sand is green, pulsating, and softly glowing.

"Hm... I guess the worst of the traps are behind us now," murmurs Tawl, an amber and white plumed female griffon as she scans the room. "It just looks like a straight walk from here."

"You think so, Tawl?" asks Tanta, a brown and grey plumed female griffon, rather sarcastically. "Then why don't you go and head up first?"

"I said I was guessing," Tawl replies with a huff. "I didn't say I was sure."

"You know who ELSE was guessing there wasn't any traps? Shark. And he's dead now. So you keep guessing, sweetie!"

"Damn Shark," sighs Fawl, a male amber and white plumed griffon. "He was one of our best scouts."

"Well, he obviously wasn't that great if a flying log managed to smash him into a wall," Tanta retorts. "What kind of 'great' scout allows that to happen to themself?"

"I've known him since I first joined the Featherline," Fawl snaps. "He was the closest thing I had to a friend in this damn gang. You talk shit about him, you talk shit about me. You should be more grateful, he died saving our asses back there."

"Ooo, is that 'emotion' you're showing, Fawl? I thought you were the cool, stoic type. What happened? Death a little too grim for you?"

"... You talk too fucking much," Fawl squints fiercely.

"Pft, wow, you and your sister really are a fruity bunch, aren't you? Pathetic."

Fawl stops and grits his teeth under his beak, settled only by his sister Tawl placing her claw on his shoulder. He simmers down enough to follow behind his team again. They are coming closer to the relic perched on its seat of cold iron.

"Why am I always paired with the bleed-heart softies on all of my missions," Tanta whispers under her breath.

"Hrrh," Fawl's dilating eyes bounce between the older griffon and Tanta. "... Hey, Grimace," he calls through grinding teeth, "you being the squad leader and all, I think you should get your squad member to watch that beak of hers. She's been running it since this mission started."

"All of you have," Grimace, the older, grey and white griffon says. "Now it's time to shut up and focus. That's an order."

Fawl scoffs, "But it's Tanta that's--!"

"That's. An order." Grimace repeats sternly, forcing Fawl to swallow his complaint. "Now... it would appear Tawl is correct. There isn't sight of any indentations or ceiling grooves to indicate hidden traps," he states as he fearlessly walks towards the metal pedestal that holds the magically emissive hourglass. "The relic of Horis," he utters in awe to himself, eyeing the artifact silently. "... Whoever this Horis pony was, he must have not wanted anyone to find this. Ever. This immense, labyrinthine temple is a testament to that."

"Couldn't keep the Featherline's elite out," Tanta prides herself.

“What does this thing even do?” asks Fawl as he eyeballs the relic.

Tanta's grin drops for an annoyed frown, “SOME griffon obviously wasn’t paying attention in the debrief."

“That's enough out of you, Tanta," Grimace scolds her. "Any further disruption will be docked on your record." Tanta rolls her eyes and bites her beak, squinting angrily at the siblings beside her. Grimace refocuses himself onto the relic, speaking again, "This relic is said to be imbued with the power of time manipulation. Its major properties are unknown," he furrows his brow line as he approaches the relic, " but they won’t be for long, once we get it into the claws of our researchers.”

"Shit," Fawl's brows raise in amusement, "time travel, huh. While I've got my doubts, isn't something like that really dangerous?"

"And what if the Black Horseshoes find out we found it?" Tawl asks trepidly. "Won't they want it from us if they found out we have it?"

"That's none of our concern," Grimace replies seriously. "That is not what our job inquires."

“Hopefully this damn thing was worth it,” Fawl mumbles, "Shark's life was a heavy price to pay."

Tawl sighs, nodding in agreement. "This temple wasn't like anything else we've ever raided. It was so confusing and weird, with all of the mazes and the clocks. How long have we been in here?"

"Too long," Tanta mumbles. "Mostly because Fawl couldn't stop crying over Shark. He was weak. He deserved his fate."

Tawl and Fawl stare sharply at her, but relax slightly after Grimace speaks up, "We lost a good scout today, we did, but the mission is all that matters. It was accomplished, we'll report back to camp with a grand success in our names. You would better believe that this relic was worth the sacrifice of such a noble squad member. The power contained in it is too useful and dangerous to leave unchecked."

"If not the Black Horseshoes," Fawl muses, "then why does The Big Feather want this so badly? Does he plan to do something crazy with it?"

"That. Is none. Of our concern," Grimace glares at him seriously. After Fawl huffs and refrains from asking further questions, Grimace returns his eyes to the artifact. "Enough loitering, now to acquire it. Brace yourselves, the potential effects of this relic are unknown and possibly dangerous. Be prepared for anything," he warns as he prepares himself to reach towards the relic. The griffons surrounding Grimace get into a ready position, squinting their eyes and spreading their wings. Then, with a reach of courage, he grips the relic into his right claw.

Like a firecracker exploding in his grasp, the relic fires a plethora of magical streaks in every direction. The room becomes a lightshow of green energies, soon accompanied by whispers and frantic speaking in a language unknown to these griffons. The entire squad feels overwhelmed by an encompassing weight that seems to crush their bodies, driving them to squirm uncomfortably and hyperventilate. The sensations overtaking them are pure dread, they all feel the fear of death grasping at their hearts.

But then, it all ends abruptly. The magic ceases, the whispering stops, and the room returns to its quiet, eerie state. The griffons pant and fall onto their haunches, gripping and shifting the sand they rest over.

"Hnh, rhn..." Grimace's body relaxes and his eyes droop half-closed, taking on a discombobulated look. He is the only one who still stands, holding onto the relic on the pedestal. His squadmates rise onto their fours and compose themselves, adjusting their stunned vision from the previous mess.

"Fuck," Fawl shrugs his left shoulder as he surveys his surroundings.

"W-What was that?" Tawl asks worriedly. "Grimace?" she calls towards the unresponsive griffon. "... Hey, Grimace? Are you okay?" She takes one step toward him, but her brother Fawl places his claw at her chest.

They cautiously watch his still, laxed form stand in place, and after a tense silence, he finally blinks. His eyes adjust and he shakes his head, mentally returning to the world around him.

"Grimace? You alright?" Tanta asks skeptically.

"... Yes," Grimace replies after a moment. "I am fine."

"What in the fuck just happened?" Fawl questions with agitation.

"It was strange. I saw... I saw a dream. No, a vision. I saw... myself," Grimace's mind races ahead of his beak.

His squadmates squint at him, perplexed at the sudden revelation he seems to be advocating. Fawl tilts his head back, raising his brow line, "... What did you see?"

"... I saw myself. I was... sitting in a throne. I was a king. And the body I had! It was... it was perfect! The pinnacle lifeform! Powered by only the strongest and purest magic. Indescribable! I was the ruler of Equus. I was rich, I had... I had everything!" He gradually gets more excited as he speaks. The other griffons give him an odd stare as he glues his now-pulsating green eyes to the relic. "Ponies, griffons. All bowed before me! I was their ruler! ... I had power, no, I WAS power!" Grimace says as he holds the relic high above his head. "All in due to the magic contained in this artifact."

"... Um, uh," Tawl shifts her eyes left and right awkwardly, "... things are getting a little weird now. How about we get out of here and get that thing back to camp--"

"NO!"

"NO!" Grimace blurts suddenly, interrupting her.

"IT IS MINE!"

"It is MINE!" he brings it down to his chest, holding it tightly as he steps back, away from his squadmates.

"HE'S CRAZY!"

Fawl winces suddenly, feeling something tear at his mind. He resists the urge to shout out his sudden thought, instead grumbling, "Rh, my fucking head! Grimace!? What's going on!?"

Tanta takes an angry step towards Grimace, who is quick to step back the same distance and spread his wings, ready to take off as he shouts, "You will NOT take my lordship away!"

"HE'S DELUSIONAL! A TRAITOR TO THE CAUSE!"

Tanta closes her left eye, wincing at the sudden viciousness coming into her heart. "Rgh, y... you're delusional. You're letting some stupid dream get to your head, and it's pissing me off."

"GIVE IT TO ME!"

"Give over that relic now, or I'll pry it out of your dead claws, Grimace," she rumbles with dilating eyes, giving her already cynical front an unhinged look.

"BOTH OF YOU SHALL PERISH!"

Tawl tucks her chin into her chest, gripping her head while clenching her teeth, trying her best at fighting back the sudden rush of accusation. With a whimper, she cries, "Everyone! Nhn-- please, stop! There's no reason to argue!"

Tawl and Fawl combat the searing voices attacking their heads while Tanta and Grimace stand at a stalemate, eyeing each other with squinted eyes, wondering who will move first.

Only the sounds of hollow wind and creaking structure fill the air. Grimace moves his sharpened eyes all over the room, planning for an exit. There's nothing that can aid his slither as the only exit to this room is the way they came from.

"ESCAPE!"

"Hryah!" Grimace bolts up, attempting to fly overhead towards the exit.

"KILL!"

He is quickly interceded by Tanta, grasped at the tail by her claw. She forces him down with a strong heave, getting a croak of pain out of him. He lands atop of her, and they begin fumbling on the ground. Tawl and Fawl both watch in pure angst, mixed between acting and staying out. Voices rumble in their minds, tugging at their will and tempting them to enter the violent brawl.

"It. Is. MINE!" Grimace grits through his teeth.

"You're so DEAD when we get back to camp, Grimace! We'll have you EXECUTED for your betrayal!" Tanta shouts, almost sounding happy about it.

"YOU'LL be the one dead soon, you insolent worm!" Grimace says as he sinks his free talons into Tanta's cheek, causing her to cry out in pain. "You WON'T take my rightful ruling away from ME! You will NEVER-- GYOAAH! AAGAAAH!" he lets out a loud, bloodcurdling scream as Tanta swiftly gashes his left eye with her talons. He shuts his eye, blood furiously leaking down his cheek.

Grimace jerks and kicks Tanta in the beak, stunning her and rattling her irises. Then, in a fit of pure, almost literal blind rage, Grimace rises and looms over the stunned Tanta. His one open eye stares at her, dilated to a pin prick.

"RELEASE ITS ESSENCE!"

"You dare interfere with my lordship." He lifts the hourglass high above his head, preparing it for a mighty swing.

Tawl and Fawl return their focus onto the scene before them, slowly emerging victorious against the metaphysical assault on their minds. Their eyes widen upon seeing Grimace, with Tawl crying out far too late, "Grimace, no!"

"BECOME A GOD!"

"YOU. BITCH!" he shouts, swinging the relic with all his strength. He smashes the relic over Tanta's head, knocking her out cold and leaving a bleeding wound upon her scalp. The relic breaks into two chunks, one in his claw and the other falling into the sand next to Tanta.

As the relic is broken apart, the world around suddenly comes to a halt. Everyone freezes in place, the magic contained inside of it disperses madly, causing an influx of unstable energies to spark and clash violently.

Soon, they all blink simultaneously. Everything resumes as normal and everyone is confused. They retake the scene before them, remembering what occurred but seconds ago. Grimace whines in pain and holds his claw over his face, his eye still leaks blood from the given gash. "Nrh, w-what the...?" he utters, using his right eye to look around.

Tawl and Fawl look at the older griffon with faces of pure hate. Surely without the influence of the whispering voice, Fawl darts at Grimace, left with little opportunity to react before he is swiftly beaten into unconsciousness with two well-placed strikes to the jaw and temple.

The siblings waste little time after Grimace is out, dragging their downed, bloodied mates out of the temple along with the broken relic. Navigating the temple is easier than before, as they have already become familiar with the traps and passages.

They pass by a certain room, with a large wooden log and a plank bridge, which houses the burial site of their comrade. The two siblings give homage to the scout who paints the wall of this room with his innards, and they escape with their unconscious squadmates.

With a trip to the far west, the griffons arrive by stolen wagon to their camp, The Featherline's west camp. This camp is perched on the mountains of west-border Equestria, where tents of all shapes and sizes riddle the space, surrounded by tall wooden spikes.

Fawl and Tawl are both immediately interceded by Featherline gang security at the front mountain path entrance. After the inspection, they are both sent directly towards the lieutenant's quarters. They enter the large, white and brown tent that stands high above the other lamer tents that make up the camp. They try their best to swallow the fear in their throats as they fall under the gaze of their camp lieutenant.

"Fawl. Tawl. Where is the rest of your squad?" asks the lieutenant, but the tone of her voice speaks as if she was already accusing them. "Where is your squad leader?" Her gaze is cold and lifeless. Her feathers are swept back in a fashion that allows her icy eyes to be perfectly seen.

"Th-... Th-They are... u-unconscious, lieutenant," Tawl manages to stammer poorly.

"And why are they in this state?" the lieutenant tilts her head in a slow, creaking manner.

"Th-... We-..." Tawl loses her words. She looks at Fawl for help, but he appears just as frozen.

"Where is the relic your squad was sent after?" the lieutenant blinks slowly.

The siblings say nothing. Fawl reaches into a messenger bag he is carrying, taking out the broken relic and shamefully presenting it to the lieutenant.

The lieutenant stares at the miserable sight with nothing but apathy. Her head returns to normal from its tilted position. "Fawl. Tawl. I expected better from one of the Featherline's elite scouting squadrons. Two members in critical condition? One dead? Two completely unscathed? ... If you do not come clean, a full investigation will ensue. With our enemy, the Sleeping Talons, approaching our borders, we would rather not waste our time and resources and simply execute every one of you, especially after such a catastrophic failure. So..." she speaks without a single change in pitch, "... I will ask again. Why are your squad members in this state?"

"Shark..." Fawl clears his throat, "... was an unfortunate casualty. The temple was much more fortified and confusing than anything we've ever dealt with before. His body was irrecoverable. We found the relic intact... but after Grimace took it into his possession, he started claiming it as his own. He--He went mad. The relic itself may have caused it, but... w-we're not sure. ... We're at a loss, lieutenant. Then, Tanta attempted to seize the relic, but openly attacked Grimace instead of performing standard submission tactics. She and Grimace... are the reason the relic is broken..." he swallows a lump in his throat as he mutters his excuse out.

The lieutenant's eyes rest boredly on him in silence before she looks forward at nothing, past the two griffons, "I see. And you swear that you're not lying.” The two griffons nod quickly in response. "Then," the lieutenant's apathetic gaze rises to look above the siblings, "Tanta has too many strikes in her record. Her pugnacious nature has overtaken her worth. Your squad leader, Grimace, will also be tried for his betrayal. Magic or no magic, there is no excuse for such a horrid failure. Tomorrow morning, you will watch Grimace Flight and Tanta Claw be publicly executed in front of the entire camp. If you two demonstrate any sympathy for those two, you will be imprisoned. Are there any questions?" The two siblings shake their heads in defeat. "You are dismissed," the lieutenant says, taking the pieces of the relic into her claw and setting them down on the table she sits at.

Fawl and Tawl leave the tent with lowered heads. The two siblings find a place to perch themselves inside the camp, remaining thoughtful and depressed. Other careless griffons move about their business, ignoring the two that toil over their recent disaster.

Fawl lets out a sigh, looking at his sister. "Hey, T, can... I ask you something kind of weird?" Tawl says nothing, but turns her gaze towards him. "So... when the relic broke. Did you feel that too?"

She nods, "it... it was weird. That sudden pain... it like someone was choking me. Then, I was getting really angry. I had to try my hardest not to get physical. I... didn't feel like myself back there."

"Yeah, exactly. That shit was insane. It felt like I was having a nightmare, but I knew I was awake."

"Good to know I wasn't the only one who felt like that. ... I wonder if Grimace and Tanta felt it too."

Fawl shrugs, "Tanta definitely felt something alright. A priceless relic to the head. What the fuck was Grimace thinking!? Using the relic we were SUPPOSED to acquire to bludgeon Tanta!" he throws his arms up in frustration, then he leans forward and rubs his eyes. "Fucking moron. ... Whether they felt anything after the relic broke, we’ll never know. They'll be dead in a few hours from now."

"YOU ALWAYS WERE JUST LIKE YER FATHER! DUMB-SONUVA BITCH! YOU AIN'T GOT MUCH TIME BEFORE YOU BLEED TO DEATH! COME ON! COME ON OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"

Lightning surges in the sky, briefly illuminating the dark night as rain pelts the earth. A man wearing a torn, ragged duster, breathes unsteadily while he slips his last six bullets into his revolver's cylinder. He hides behind several bales of hay, avoiding his oppressor as he reloads his weapon.

Two men stand off at a farm home, tired, bleeding and muddy. The home belonged to the man who hides behind the bales, but now finds his property destroyed, shambled, and riddled with bodies. The broken wagon, the collapsed water-tower, the dead animals, they all served purpose after their destruction as cover for this elongated gunfight that has lasted since the early morning. Corpses of twenty-six men are splayed out across his yard, each falling fate to the sleight of his hand. But his breathing is rasp and trembling, he is tacked with several bulletholes from the gang's assault. Each wound stings horribly, his body burns, and his vision is blurring. Regardless of this, he still holds his own.

"WE WERE LIKE FAMILY, SKY! LIKE FAMILY! YOU COULD'A MADE IT EASY ON YOURSELF! ALL THESE DEAD MEN AROUND YOU WERE YER BROTHERS ONCE!"

Sky, the young man behind cover, gets his six bullets in then flicks his weapon to the right, locking the cylinder back into place. He cocks the hammer back, then shifts his eyes to his side, furrowing his brows and coughing blood. He wipes his mouth with his duster sleeve, and with his patience ran thin by the man shouting at him, he finally shout back, "YOU TALK TOO FUCKIN' MUCH!"

"HAHAHAAAA! STILL ABLE TO YAK AFTER GETTIN' SHOT TO HELL REALLY REMINDS ME OF YER PA'! DID THE SAME FUCKIN' THING! WELL, LEAST HE WASN'T COWERIN' AWAY LIKE A LIL' SISSY! C'MON, SKY, DON'T MAKE ME FUCKIN' GO OVER THERE!"

Under the thunder and rain, he hears footsteps trekking along the mud and water. He squints his eyes, preparing to intercept.

He swiftly rises from his cover and grips the figure that approached him, grasping it and firing two successive shots at their belly. "--- Ngh!" his eyes widen, realizing he's gripping the corpse of a dead man that was used as bait. The bearded man known as Michael drops the body he used and grasps Sky's gun-hand, twisting it and pointing it away. The two tall men enter a tussle, Michael taking the lead by swatting Sky's face with the butt of his own revolver. He follows up this attack by further twisting Sky's gun-hand, and due to not surrendering his weapon, Sky's wrist cracks.

He exhales sharply, finally letting go of his revolver, allowing Michael to take it and throw it away. He then drives his elbow in to bash Sky's jaw.

Sky takes the robust strike, but doesn't topple, and instead he winds back like a coil and headbutts Michael on his nose. Once Michael is stunned and croaking in pain, Sky uses his functioning hand to snatch Michael's revolver and twist it away, but the weapon-holder is quick to pull the trigger, sending his last bullet right into Sky's left abdomen.

Another bullet travels through his body and sears him like a smoldering inferno, but he continues to twist the weapon away, cocking back for another headbutt. He slams his forehead into Michael's nose once more, and it cracks audibly, breaking unnaturally to the left with blood now furiously running down his nostrils. Sky pulls the gun away, taking it into his grip, and he attempts to fire off into Michael.

Click! Cli-cli-click!

"Fhk!" Sky grumbles, throwing the empty gun at Michael's head, causing him to stumble back, hunch over, and hold himself. Sky himself grasps his hand over the fresh bullet wound in his abdomen, falling onto one knee.

They both toil in their pain for a moment, then lift their heads to lock eyes.

Michael stares with a twitching grin. "... There it is again. There's that gold in your eyes... richer than the mineral of the Earth..."

Sky stares back with pure disdain.

"... They glow just like yer dad's... just like yer brother's. Whatever you are, you just don't fuckin' die. I'd even put my money down to say, you're tougher than both yer older family, they'd be dead by now. ... Whatever crazy super-hero you are..." he sighs disappointedly, "you're somethin' alright. Fuckin' hell, we could'a had it all, Sky, we--," he is briefly interrupted by a blood-ridden cough, "-- we could'a made this land ours. With yer strength and will, we could'a had everythin'. We could'a had a good life. ... Ain't that what you wanted? A good life fer you 'n your sister? ... Especially yer sister... m'I right?"

"... Don't..." Sky spits a glob of blood and mucus, "... fuckin' talk about her, you son of a bitch."

Michael chuckles, "Make me, friend."

Sky grunts as he rises onto his feet, continuously keeping his eyes locked onto Michael's.

Michael remains still, only waiting to be approached.

Sky limps forward, coming into grappling distance with him. He reaches out with his good hand, grasping Michael by his plaid shirt, pulling him in, and sending his right elbow into his face.

Michael spits and bleeds from his mouth, taking the attack as if he wanted it. He then reaches out and grapples as well, driving his fist from under to cram it into Sky's chin for an uppercut, then following up with a sharp knee to his gut.

Sky keels over, coughing out saliva and blood, but only briefly as he rises back up with his own high-knee to Michael's diaphragm.

Michael's wind is knocked clean out, bending him over and throwing him into a coughing fit. Michael knows he's physically inferior to his ex-bestfriend, but he wanted to experience it first-hand. He wanted to see the explosive show of golden lights that he once saw before many years ago... but he has been denied his wish. Sky had purposefully made the showdown harder on himself by not using his gift, only to spite and not give him the satisfaction. Michael secretly admires Sky's stubbornness, it was one of his favorite things about him.

Sky grasps his head, kneeing him in the face hard enough to bring lightning to his conscious. Then, with a powerful left straight into his jaw, Michael finally stumbles backwards and falls onto the mud, feeling his face churning horribly.

Sky limps forward and stands above the toppled man, staring down at him with rage. He falls down onto his knees, pinning Michael onto the ground. He raises his trembling left fist into the air, clenching his teeth together in resentment.

"Y'know..." Michael coughs, gathering his last ounce of strength to speak. Sky's fist remains raised, but does not swing. "... I saw this comin'."

Sky doesn't reply, he only stares at Michael's barely-recognizable face as rain and blood further the mess.

"I knew I wasn't gonna win." He coughs profusely, clearing his muddled throat, "Yeah... guess you can say this was my desperate attempt to finally wipe you out. ... Part'a me was hopin' you'd finish this once and for all, I knew I couldn't keep this goin' forever. ... The other part of me really, really fuckin' hates you for actually doin' it. ... You killed my best men, and today... you've killed my only men. We were a super-power once... but you ruined the entire foothold the Black Spurs had over southern U.S. You single-handedly ruined my grandpa's entire empire, the one that cared for ya' and raised ya'. ... What do you gotta say for yerself, Sky?"

Sky shakes his head slowly, "I didn't ruin anythin'. You did, you and your older brother. Your grandpa and your father were great men, it's a cryin' fuckin' shame that you were what came outta them."

"Eeah," Michael grins wryly, "your grandpa 'n my grandpa', your pa' 'n my pa'... great men. Great friends too, just like you 'n me were at one point. Too bad you lost track of what was important. Success."

"Success? Dad 'n Vigil were executed by your dad's men, under the command of your brother. What fuckin' success did that merit? Huh? My family didn't want to be apart of the shit your brother was pullin', and he had 'em killed. What fuckin' success did you get outta that? What about all the innocent mothers and children killed? Burned to death? Kidnapped and sold off? Success? What fuckin' success are you referrin' to, Michael!?"

"It ain't that simple, Sky."

"Bullshit. You saw what the Black Spurs were becomin'. Thieves, murderers, rapists, scum of the earth. Your brother changed the goals that our forefathers stood for, then when he died 'n you took power, you weren't like your brother... you were worse. At least yer brother Dern made his intentions abundantly clear... unlike you, fuckin' backstabbin' snake."

"Aww, come now. You can't say that. I did what was best for the gang. You're my best friend! 'N I'm serious! You should understand why I did what I did! ... You can't blame me for lookin' out for me and my family, right? Just like you look out fer yer sister?" Sky squints furiously at Michael's remark. "... How is she anyway? She in the house, all boarded up from the scary men out here?"

"None of yer fuckin' concern."

"... Been a while since I spoke to that dime-piece. Ever since we were kids, I wanted to get into her skirt. ... I ever tell you that? I ever tell you that I wanted to bed yer sister? Really badly?"

"Fuck you, Michael."

"Heheah. Yeah, I love you too, Sky. ... Goood damn it, this almost feel like one of them sparrin' matches we used to have so long ago... 'cept, instead of gettin' back up, now I'm out fer good this time. ... You was like a brother to me... remember that."

Sky drives his fist down, again and again, beating down on Michael, churning his face into a fleshy mess.

After an uncounted number of strikes, Michael finally lies dead, pooled in blood and mud.

Lightning cracks, followed by a heart-rumbling thunder that shakes the world.

Sky stares lazily at the dead man, panting, his breath visibly leaves his mouth from the cold air. He rises from his knees, slouched and gently swaying from lack of balance and nearly losing consciousness. His shimmering golden orbs lazily look towards his house.

The doors were locked and the windows were boarded up, leaving the inside protected from the entire showdown. He limps towards it, dragging his boots across the wet mud, the countless bodies, and the puddles of blood. He steps up the creaking wooden steps of the porch and stands in front of the door. He rests himself against it, knocking, "Vi. ... Vi, it's me. We're safe. They're dead... they won't be botherin' us anymore."

After a moment of silence, furniture is heard being pushed from the inside, and the door clicks as it unlocks. Sky comes off of the door when it opens, revealing a girl standing on the other side. Her jet black hair droops over one eye, leaving only one of her cyan orbs visible. The tailored blouse and skirt she wears is different shades of black and deep purple. Her expression is horrified as she witnesses the dying state of her brother.

Sky cracks Viola a wry smile, trying to appease to her shock just before his lights flicker off. He loses consciousness on his feet, slowly leaning forward into the arms of his sister.

She holds him firmly, wasting no time to come to his aid. She backpedals with him inside, kicking the door before resting him down on the wall next to the door. She quickly undresses him from his blood-battered, soaking clothing.

She moves with haste, jogging to the restroom to retrieve a towel and return to Sky, drying his naked form from water and grime. She looks at every wound on his body, every bullet hole, every bruise, puncture, laceration and disjointing.

Her glistening, half-lidded eyes scan his body, silently thanking him for not dying. She wouldn't know what to do if the only family member she had remaining left her.

The violent exchange between Sky and the Black Spurs lasted from sunrise to moonrise, nearly twenty hours of bullets, blood, and death. The raid on this homestead was the gang's final attempt at squashing out the man who once had connections to them. Now with Michael's death, the gang has no leader, it has no direction, and with newly-rising law-enforcement in the south, the Black Spurs will eventually disband into nothing.

The shadow-gang that once held control over political and militant affairs from behind curtains of secrecy through out all southern United States is no longer.

Viola begins to undress herself now, undoing her corset and unlacing her blouse, sliding her stockings off, then placing the pieces of clothing carefully on a stray couch that was used to board the door.

Once she frees herself of her clothing, she collects a moist towelette from the restroom, returning to her brother with haste. She gets down on her knees before him, reaching out and placing her hand on his chest.

Her eyes close, and the palm of her hand begins to glow a faint golden color. Her lips quiver from the pain of sacrificing skin from her thighs and her own blood to transfer new and healthy cells into her brother, effectively speeding up the healing process of his body. The wounds on the Sky's body, in such a grotesque and quick display, cease their bleeding and close as flesh forms in real time. The bullets lodged in his body pop out like jumping beans, and cracks are heard as the bones in his body snap back into place.

After sharing enough of herself to restore him to a stable state, she takes the towelette and pats down the minute bleeding on her thighs. She eyes her unconscious brother, and her heart flutters in emotion at seeing him in such a vulnerable state. She's used to seeing him hurt, bleeding, and roughed up, as it's a tendency of his to get hurt, but this is definitely the worst he's ever been.

He let himself get this way, the battle he just finished fighting could have ended sooner and cleaner had he used his gift. But instead, he kept it stowed away, he didn't want to give Michael the satisfaction of seeing what he wanted to see. He let his back-stabbing ex-bestfriend take his crave and wonder to the grave.

Viola will never understand why he would put his life in danger for a vendetta, but she's grateful her stubborn brother is still alive.

She gazes at his face, at how innocent and helpless he looks in this very moment. Her eyes shimmer in ardor, a kind that makes her heart beat faster and tints her cheeks pink. She leans herself towards him, planting a soft, unobtrusive kiss on his lips, then up onto his forehead. She doesn't know whether or not he'd ever condone her sentiments for him... so, just as she's done for many years, she'll keep them hidden away and admire him from a distance.

She rises up and takes her brother's clothing. She retrieves a sewing kit from the bathroom, returning to the living room right after and sitting down on the couch. She begins mending the roughed-up rags that her brother always manages to ruin in his escapades, despite her constant efforts to keep his clothes whole.

The storming night continues on as the two remain together in their broken home. Viola has a small smile forming on her lips, finding happiness in finally being free from the curse that plagued their family for generations. She hums to herself a nursery tune that her mother used to sing to her before she passed away, slowly swaying her head from left to right as she sows up Sky's ruined duster.

After sewing up the torn clothes, she fits the clothing back onto her brother, slowly and methodically, as she isn't in any sort of rush. She gently pants his chest and unwrinkles his dust collar with a uncounted joy. She thinks forward, smiling at how Sky is probably going get up first thing in the morning like if nothing had happened, getting started immediately on sorting the yard out, cleaning up bodies and fixing up what was broken. He's going to need his work clothes whole and intact for that.

After Viola sorts his attire and gives him one one kiss on the forehead, she returns to the couch. She fixes her gaze on her brother, blinking tiredly as she moves to rest her head on a couch pillow. Her eyes remain on him until they close, and her smile doesn't leave her face. The happiness welling in her heart allows her gives her the warmth she needs to sleep soundly. She hopes her brother is doing the same.

After a lifetime of tragedy, they can start over and live in peace. Tomorrow will be a new day.

"Well done, Arch Angel. You have survived. You have thrived. Now, you must evolve. Proceed now, your growth lies elsewhere..."

... Sky's eyebrows twitch. These words, uttered by an unknown, feminine voice, are the final thoughts taken in by him before his world is cast away and pulled distant from him.

He twitches at the terrible burning throughout his body, feeling as if he had been forced through an industrial drier. His eyelids tremble before they slowly break open, and his exhausted hazel eyes stare at the sky. He watches clouds lazily flying by through a mass of tall trees and vines. He doesn't realize it, but his ability to properly rationalize is completely absent. He remains there, resting on a bed of grass as the world passes him by. He isn't sure how long he lies there, listening to the chimes of nature that fill the environment, without a single thought passing through his head.

Finally, absent of any particular rhyme or reason, he decides it's time to get up. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and forehead before he takes in his surroundings. He sees he’s inside some sort of jungle, or a forest maybe. Everything is completely unfamiliar to him. Sounds of animals and rustling flora breathe life into this humid green expanse.

He looks down at his hands, staring at the back, then his palms. Everything in this place feels surreal, the first and only contemplation that strikes him is that this is just a dream. His mind draws blanks at every corner, and even if he felt like stopping to think, nothing would make sense. Blurry memories are present in his mind, but he doesn't think on them, he only skims over them as if they weren't important.

He gets up onto his feet and focuses again on his current location. The first thing he notices is that he’s sitting in the middle of a rather unnatural clearing. A faded path, he thinks. There’s no way nature would cut and topple grass and vines in this pattern. He silently assumes that this path is probably how people get in and out of this jungle without getting completely lost. He takes a faith fall in one of the path’s directions in hopes that it will lead to a nearby town, and he begins his walk.

With no objective, no goal in mind, he keeps moving. He looks down at himself, noticing that he’s in his working get-up, consisting of a dark grey cloth shirt, dark grey slacks, brown boots, and brown duster coat. The air is slightly nippy, so this form of attire couldn't be better. His deep red hair that he usually keeps tidy is a mess, unkempt and flowing in a backwards manner. Dark circles mark his lower eyelids, drawing an air of deprivation on his face. He's become accustomed to being unable to sleep very well, but his exhaustion doesn't serve him well in this dreamy endeavor.

The sparking engine that is his mind barely registers any stimulus around him. It's almost as if he's in auto-pilot, having his body moving autonomously while his consciousness simply tags along for the ride. He continues walking and shifting his half-lidded eyes, keeping on the dirt path.

Soon, he comes to a stop when the path he took leads him to an end, in front of a large, rocky jut of earth. It's some sort of cave entrance, a mine maybe. What really prods his interest is the golden-encrusted doorframe and door that gives entry to this mysterious structure. Whatever it is he found, it is definitely man-made.

That surreal feeling still envelops his senses. A dreamy feeling. This is definitely a dream, he thinks. This forest, this door, and everything about his current situation, the only feasible conclusion is that he's still asleep. Viola is probably going to make breakfast soon, and she'll wake him up like she always does.

So then, curious and without caution, he reaches to the door’s dust-covered, oddly shaped door handle. He gasps it and tugs it lightly, attempting to pull it open.

Click

His eyes narrow and his brows furrow, hearing an odd mechanism from the other side activate. “Hrgh,” he mumbles to himself, taking one step back away from the door.

But his caution is futile. There's a pang and a wisp, and something comes shooting out from the left side of the forest. He feels a sharp, burning sensation on his left shoulder, causing him to grunt and backpedal from the door quickly. Upon examining his arm, he sees a white, feather-ended dart stuck to his shoulder. Even though he is seeing the dart impaled into him, he doesn't internalize what has happened to him.

His entire left arm quickly goes numb. This may be a dream, but the pain is so real. He reaches for the dart, wincing when he forcefully yanks it out. He brings the dart up to his face and examines it. He's impressed at how deep it was lodged, at least an inch deep. The end of the dart still seems to be dripping some sort of poison.

Only seconds pass, and the toxin works its beauty. He huffs an unsteady breath as his legs begin to go numb and his balance begins to fail. He attempts to take a few more steps away from the door, but falls to his knees instead. His vision blurs as he loses sensation to the left half of his body. Perhaps this isn't a dream and he's actually in danger.

He tries to speak, attempting to call for anyone who could help, but his mouth only falls to lazily hang open. The sensations he feels mix erratically, they feel so real, but they also don't make any sense.

He can't use his voice, and he can't even move anymore. ... Looks like he isn't going to get any help. So now, he ponders whether he should fall forward and close his eyes, or continue trying to struggle. If this is a dream, there's really no reason to struggle. He’ll wake up, and everything will be fine. Just some sort of weird nightmare.

In the off-chance that it isn't, he's probably screwed... but he’s too dazed to give it very much thought.

He unwillingly chooses the former when he slumps forward, cheek hitting the moist dirt. He stares at the golden door with falling eyelids. He has lived in his hometown all of his life, and he doesn't ever remember seeing it. He doesn't remember a forest being located even remotely nearby.

The sleepy feeling drowns away any effort to keep thinking critically. The sounds of nature slowly fade away as he closes his eyes. Maybe he will wake up. It’s probably just a dream…

His breathing is quiet and rasp. He can feel his heart beating in his ears. He's barely conscious, and he's too weak to try and open his eyes.

He thinks he can hear some footsteps. Sounds like someone walking with heavy shoes on wooden floor. Viola? Viola is probably awake already. Maybe. She doesn't walk in the house with shoes on, so it couldn't be her clacking the floor like that.

Alas, he deems it too difficult to come up with a concrete conclusion. Thinking is too hard right now, maybe he should just sleep some more.

Yeah. Yeah, he’ll do just that.

Consciousness returns, sensations come flooding back. Everything hurts. A lot. Pain shocks his body when he tries to move.

He forces his eyes open, closes them, then forces them open again. He stares at a wooden ceiling, an unfamiliar ceiling. … An unfamiliar bed. A rather small bed, actually. His feet are hanging off the opposite end to the headrest.

With some effort, he moves his head to look around the room. There's a nightstand next to the bed on the left, a closet dresser on the other side of the bed to the right, and a window next to that dresser which looks out to an unfamiliar sight. A wall of trees and shrubbery sit before a flowing river that falls off of a cliff-side nearby. The forest there is possibly the same forest he was in previously before being rescued... at least, he'd assume he was rescued. He jumps to the conclusion that he's still dreaming. He knows it’s probably not a dream, but he can’t find an answer in any other region of his brain.

The room he’s in is very simple, almost too simple. No decorations, no paintings, flowers, furnishings, nothing. It's slightly irksome, but the structural integrity of the room he's in is clean and promising.

After staring around for a while, he decides getting up is the next move. With a heave and a ho’, he hauls himself up, sitting upright on the bed. He lets out a groan as he does, his eyes go crossed for a moment. He takes off the red and grey blankets that cover him and sets them aside. He swings his legs off the left side of the bed, sitting on the edge. The bed is strangely low to the ground. Now that he thinks of it, everything in here is kind of small. The dresser isn’t very big, the nightstand might as well be a footstool, and that door that exits the room looks like a headache waiting to happen.

He stands up, stumbling over to the wall closest to him as to support his weak form. He remains still and gets his bearings, breathing in deeply to fill his body with much-needed oxygen.

He immediately notices that his clothes are missing. All of them. Including undergarments. Going commando. He doesn't hear the steps that he swore he heard earlier, and the lack of sounds or talking from the other parts of the home makes he deem his nudity unimportant for the moment, but that may be due to a lack of better judgement. He doesn't completely register the idea of being completely naked in someone else's house just yet.

Once confident in his strength, he stops leaning on the wall and stands on his own. His knees feel weak, his arms are heavy. Dry palms though. Dry everything. He's dehydrated and terribly hungry.

Water…

He smacks his dry mouth and places a hand on his empty stomach. He slowly paces towards the oddly short door, opening it and peering to the other side. It leads into a hallway, and this hall contains another neighboring door to this one on the left, and two doors adjacent on the other side of the hall. The right side of the hall leads towards the living room and kitchen, they appear to be conjoined as one large room. He ducks his head down and exits the bedroom.

He stretches his back as he walks, a mixture of a yawn and a grunt of pain leaving his opened mouth. His feet lightly resonate against the sturdy wooden floor with each step. The kitchen seems oddly small, just as everything else here. The living room on the other side has a three-cushion couch and a single cushion couch, plus a tiny coffee table in the middle. They're awkwardly shaped and small, but the strange furniture is the least of his concerns as he strides over to the kitchen faucet, turning it on and chugging water in a terribly immodest fashion. He closes his eyes and savors every drop.

After nearly water-logging himself, he pulls away and lets out a deep sigh. He clears his throat, banishing the frogs from inside, then he stretches his vocal chords by saying 'hello' in several different pitches. His eyes scan his surroundings while he rubs his neck.

To his pleasant surprise, there on the counter-top next to the water faucet is a plate of watermelon slices, three to be exact. He knows it's rude to take without asking, but he'll be sure to make up for his indulging behavior in due time. Who ever it is that rescued him, he's deeply in debt to them already. So, with no holds barred, he attacks the slices of delicious fruit until there is nothing left but green smiles.

With something to keep his stomach occupied for a while, he finally takes some time to take a hold of his situation. The first thing he checks is his left shoulder. Indeed, there's a small red hole where the dart went in. He touches it with his right index finger, furrowing his brows. For the considerable amount of damage it caused, he feels completely fine.

"Guess I’m… okay?" he whispers to himself. His voice is deep and has a rigid western drawl. "… Where the hell am I?" he questions, looking around this quiet, oddly sized home. It's kind of comfortable, taking on an aesthetic that's right-at-home with him. The make-up of the structure at least, not the home itself. Good old hard wood as the frame inside, probably cinder block on the outside. Hardwood floors, walls, ceiling. Fine craftsmanship. He runs his finger along the kitchen counter-top, which is made of wood also. Not a spec of dust or grime. This lodge of-sorts is missing a lot of personal touch to it in the decorations department, but it makes up for it in cleanliness.

Ah, now all of that water he drank is coming back like a boomerang as the outdoors begin to call to him. He isn't sure where the restroom is, but he doesn't want to go prying into someone else's home without their knowing. He thinks taking care of business outside would be the modest thing to do, and besides, being cooped up inside for so long is making him a little restless. He begins his way to the front door, reaching for the handle—

“Nh!” he suddenly juts backwards as the door opens by itself.

What the…?

“What the!?” a voice calls. A raspy, tomboy-ish female voice.

There. He sees a horse... thing. A small horse with huge eyes. And it just spoke. It looks at him, confused and bewildered. The same expression takes his face.

The horse thing has deep black hair with grey highlights, bright, expressive magenta eyes, and a tan coat that’s covered in dirt and musk. The horse is also wearing… clothes? It looks like a faded green cloth over-shirt with a grey undershirt. The over-shirt is fitted with pockets and—

“You’re… awake?” the horse says, interrupting his train of thought. “Huh. Now that’s impressive. After your second day out, I didn’t think you were gonna make it," she chuckles to herself with a smile... an odd smile. Nothing about her is normal, but seeing a facial expression like that on such a creature is baffling. "Good thing you did though, sure would have sucked if you died. Now I'll probably be able to sell you by tomorrow evening, at LEAST two-thousand bits to some horny Canterlot mare. Easy,” her smile is seemingly directed to herself. "Maybe more than that. You sure are a handsome one, let me tell ya'~"

“… Handsome?” the man repeats in sheer addlement.

The small horse’s eyes dilate, her prideful grin slowly turns to a wry smile of uncertainty. “… Uuh,” she clears her throat, “handsome. Did you just repeat what I said? Wow, that’s… really creepy. You’re like those parakeets, they repeat things you say. Didn't know humans could do that. You learn something new everyday, I guess."

The man's dilated eyes gawk at her as he listens to her insane ramblings.

"I, uh... bet I can teach you to say all sorts of things. That'd be pretty cool, actually."

With a lightning strike of realization, the man holds in his urge to verbally question the being in front of him.

“Uuh... handsome,” the horse repeats with a slightly nervous smile, hoping that her assumption was correct.

“Hand. Some,” he mimics, forcing his voice to sound as ape-ish as possible.

With a gasp, her smile widens, “Hah! Awesome!” her wings spread and they flap in some sort of happy gesture. “I didn't even know humans had this skill! Every day's a school day," she chuckles as her head tilts up to look at the human's face. A sudden air of mischievousness takes her front, and because of how lively and expressive this little horse's face is, the man easily concludes she's up to something. "Say… ‘suck.’”

“… Suck,” he repeats, lacking enthusiasm.

The horse gets a cheeky grin stuck on her mouth. The look of evil is caught by the man instantly. It wouldn't be too far a jump to assume this little horse is of the trouble making sort.

“I. Suck,” the horse says, grinning in anticipation.

He remains quiet. He says nothing. He simply stares at her with his exhausted orbs.

“Nrrh, c’moon. Say it!”

He says nothing, he only tilts his head as if he couldn't understand what she wants.

“... You're a snake, I bet you're smarter than you let on," she grumbles. "... Probably not. Just a stupid human,” she shakes her head, walking towards the living room and setting down some sort of double bag thing that she had around her back. She wipes her forehead, getting some grime off of it and onto her foreleg. "Stupid, but handsome. With those looks and that thing between your legs, you'll sell faster than my mom's old cherry fritters~"

His eyes are plastered on her with deep criticism. ... As much as this little game has been mildly entertaining, this is beginning to get too weird. She's been talking about him being stupid or whatever, she's been going on about selling him. Like trafficking? What kind of twisting fucking world is this where humans are sold like--

“Welp,” she turns to look at him, bringing her flank into the air and stretching. Bones pop audibly and she sighs in relief, “got a full day of things to do and places to see tomorrow. Gonna need to find a way to hold you down till then. Leeet’s see here…” The talking horse reaches into her bags with her muzzle, taking out a collar and a leash.

The man's eyes sharpen in distaste. The horse makes her way towards him, collar in her mouth. She's going to put that on him. She's gonna leash him up like an animal.

Just as he assumed, she leaps onto her hindlegs, balancing herself by brazenly placing her forelegs onto his abdomen. She uses her right hoof to take the collar, reaching over to strap it around his neck--

Clasp.

"Gch!" the tan horse's eyes dilate to pen pricks. The human has suddenly reached out with his hand, gripping the horse's hoof to keep her from collaring him.

"... You're not gonna put that shit on me," he states sternly.

“Ych! Ick!" the horse tries to pull her hoof away, but finds her strength completely overwhelmed by his. She got too comfortable, now she's regretting it severely.

Willingly, he lets her go when she begins to struggle, causing her to drop the collar onto the floor and stumble back, falling back down onto her four legs. Her mortified expression trembles back at him as she steps all the way until she presses up against the door. "Y-You could TALK the entire time!?"

"... Yeah?"

"You--You--! You understand me!? What the fuck!? You--Yooou--!” a blush takes her face, from her cheeks to her muzzle.

"Let's worry about this in a little bit, I need to go outside 'n piss real bad," he says as he walks towards her, heading towards the door which she's blocking.

The small horse’s mind short-circuits, but her body moves instinctively. With a mixture of disgust and anger, she flies up with her wings to move out of the way, gawking with pure bewilderment.

The man speed-walks out the door, nearly hitting his head on the way out. He stomps past the wooden porch and down some steps onto the grass. He scopes quickly. He finds a suitable tree to run behind, and lets Niagara fall.

…

The little tan horse, left alone in the lodge while the human relieves himself, furrows her brows and shakes her head. She lands near the coffee table, still shooken by what just happened. “Seriously, what in tartarus was that! That… that THING was--! ... It can talk!? ... Huugh, I was talking about his dick right in front of him AND I called him handsome! ... I’ll never live this down,” her ears lie flat on her head and her eyes squint in self-disdain. The human comes walking back into the house, shutting the door behind himself. The horse grits her teeth and immediately shifts her accusative gaze towards him, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to--! … do…?” the horse tilts her head in confusion.

“… What?” asks the human, holding a large forest leaf over his crotch.

“… What’re you doing?”

“It’s called modesty. You kinda took my clothes and decided it fit to hide them somewhere.”

“Oh. Your… clothes. … Ehehe, yeah, about that…” the horse rubs the back of her head, causing the human to squint. The mare clears her throat and continues, “I… um. Kind of sold them.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he brings his palm to his face.

“They were worth a lot, at least! And like you even NEED clothes! Humans don’t wear clothes!”

“You’re insane, horse. What the hell is wrong with you? Humans don’t wear clothes? I'll freeze to fuckin' death if I don't got anything to wear in the winter. Where in the sam-hell am I?” the human asks, approaching the horse step-by-step.

The mare recoils defensively, “Horse!? Pony! I'm a pony, not a damn horse! And no duh we talk! How are YOU talking? You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!” the little pony stomps her hoof on the wooden floor and becomes visibly agitated.

“Explainin’? I ain’t explainin’ shit, lil' miss 'gonna sell you to some horny mare.' You've got some explainin' to do.”

The tan pony gawks him down bitterly, and he returns the favor. They keep this standoff, waiting for one of them to break face.

The winged pony does her best to appear firm and angry, but it becomes increasingly difficult to keep her composure under his stare. His body has cuts and scars everywhere, the bags under his eyes give him a sinister appearance, and the sharp, frizzled energy of his hair makes him look unstable.

The mare finally caves in. "Ugh, fine. Just... stay over there and don't hurt me."

"Wasn't plannin' to."

With his simple reply, the pony visibly relaxes. "... This is all crazy. A talking human. Wow. I wouldn't believe it, but it's right here. Guess pigs will start flying next,” she drops her defensive position and stands straight, looking at the human who is still protecting his soft spot. “You’re in Equestria, I guess. Land of the 'talking horses.'”

"... Is that a state or a country?"

"What? Seriously? Equestria is like, one of the world's biggest countries. How could you not know this?"

"Because we don't have a damn 'Equestria' where I'm from. ... Guess I'll follow up with, what 'world' are we in?"

"... Equus," she response with a bit more patience than before. "... Since you’re obviously not from ‘here', where are you from?”

“… Earth, land of the talkin’ humans. Some place called the United States. … I’m fixin’ to believe I ain’t dreamin’,” he says, lowering his gaze to his hands, examining them as he did before.

“Nope, not a dream. Sooner you realize that, the better. ... So, uh, how did a talking flesh monkey appear in Equestria?”

“A question I wish I had an answer to. I've got no clue how I got here, and none of this makes any sense.”

“Yeah, well, YOU don’t exactly make any sense either. You’re not supposed to even exist. Humans. Don’t. Talk.” Her aggressive voice churns in the man's ears.

“I didn't ask to be suddenly transported to horse world. If I don't belong here, I need out of this place and back to mine. I've got things to worry about that don't involve any of this. I've got a sister to take care of, and she's probably worried sick because I suddenly disappeared. I've gotta go."

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’re probably just gonna get killed or sold to some fancy-shmancy elite in Canterlot,” she looks away dismissively.

The man eyes her silently, slowing down to think. "... I've got a proposition." The pony’s eyes turn to the human irately. “I don’t know a thing about this place. I’m sure I won’t get killed, promise you that... but I don't know the first thing about this Equestria place. I just won’t know where to go, or what to do.”

“... What are you suggesting?” she flicks her tail dismissively.

“... I’m gonna need your help to get home,” he gazes into her eyes with a bored, unamused expression. "You seem to know your way around. If I somehow got here, there's a somehow on gettin' back, right? Help me get home, I'll be out of your hair and you can keep the money you got from sellin' my clothes."

“And WHY do I have to help you? Just like you said, I've got too many things to worry about that don't involve this."

“… Guess you don’t really have to. No one's forcin' you, least I certainly won't. I’ll be gone tonight and you won’t see me ever again, ain’t gotta worry about that freaky talkin’ human anymore,” he says as he looks away towards the door.

“If you’re gonna leave, then do it. I’ve got enough trouble,” the pony says, looking at the ground. "... Good luck finding your way back home." The human looks at the pony once again, giving her a complete look-down. Her eyes shift towards and away from him over and over as she feels his weighty gaze fall on her. After some silence, her ears drop to her head and her muzzle scrunches. "What?"

“What’s yer name?”

“Why do you even care?”

“Just wanna know the name of the hor-- …” he clears his throat, “pony... that saved me from rotting out there, and tell her thanks. Guess I couldn't make it home if I was dead, huh?”

The pony remains looking at the ground for a moment before she lifts her head and looks proudly at the human, as if some sort of inner ego resurged inside of her. “Dahlia Do, and don’t you forget it,” she smiles in a snide manner.

“Pleasure to meet you, Dahlia. Thanks, for savin’ me and all.”

“Yeah, yeah, save the soft stuff for someone who likes that crap." Her ears suddenly perk up when a thought comes across her. "… Hey, I’m curious. How do you feel right now?”

“Now that you mention it, I feel fine actually,” he replies, looking down at his shoulder that still has a puncture wound from the dart.

“… That was a lot of poison pumped into you. I was sucking for like half an hour."

“Huh. You must’a gotten to me just after I blacked out if you were still able to do that.”

“Well, I don’t know when you passed out, but the wound was still fresh. It also seemed like the poison wasn’t able to spread around much. There was a lot of it, but it didn’t flow everywhere, which is lucky for you. … That amount of poison you got is enough to topple several ponies or humans. A bison even. How are you still alive?” she gives him a skeptical look.

“Just as clueless as you are," he scratches the back of his head, unsure that he's actually unsure of himself.

“… Mm. So. What’s your name?” Dahlia questions.

“’Why do you even care’”? he replies boredly.

“Ha, ha. Funny. When you’ve got a manticore sneaking up behind you, I won’t know your name to tell you you’re in danger,” she flicks her tail with a pseudo lack of interest.

“Does that suggest what I think you're suggestin'?”

“Just tell me your damn name already,” her ears drop again in annoyance.

“I’m Crimson. Crimson Sky. Pleasure," he salutes her with two fingers, smiling genuinely.

Dahlia smiles back slightly, pondering on his name. "Crimson Sky, huh? ... Sky. Sky, Sky, Sky. Weird word when you say it a lot."

"Just, eh, call me Crimson. Not Sky."

"What's wrong with Sky? It's shorter and easier to say than 'crimson.'"

"... Just rather be called Crimson. There's some bad feelings attached to my last name. Anyways, do they sell human clothes here? Since I reckon this place has humans in it.”

“Yeah, they do. We need to get you some, but we’ll get on that tomorrow. For now, just… uuh… here,” she trots off towards her room.

Crimson watches her disappear behind the doorframe. He stands there, his resting face unlively and exhausted. Dahlia finally comes back with a small grey cotton shirt that seems fairly stretchy.

“Here. Put this around your waist or whatever. And don’t get your junk smell all over it.”

“Yeah. Seein' as how you were real keen on commenting about it earlier, I wouldn't want you enjoyin’ it or somethin’,” he says so sarcastically, he almost sounds serious. He takes the shirt and ties it around his waist.

She scoffs, unable to hide a small blush that's forming on her cheeks. “Gross. Don’t say that. Like, ever again. ... So. If you're looking to tag along with me, you're playing by my rules. The game plan I had for tomorrow is to resupply, and get you familiar with the world around you. If we’re gonna help you get home, you gotta know the ropes. Luckily for you, you’ve got Equestria’s number one tomb raider and adventurer to aid your cause.”

“You steal from dead folk?”

“Yes. I mean, well, I guess. Don’t word it like that!” He gestures with his hands carefully and apologetically. “Anyway, you wasted almost three days sleeping on my bed. It probably smells like you now."

"Three days? That's more sleep than I've gotten in the past month."

"Are you serious?" she asks with concern, to which he nods tiredly. "That's horrible. What's wrong with you?"

"Too many things to count."

Dahlia sighs, "... Well try your best to get some sleep, because we’re gonna be up bright and early tomorrow. I won’t have you lagging behind me.” The man nods with seldom a reaction. “... You sure you're okay?” she leans a little closer to him.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Why?"

"You just look kind of... disinterested. That's pretty standard for humans in Equestria, but I know you can make faces."

"Making faces is hard."

"... Is it really?"

"Nah, that was a joke."

Dahlia rolls her eyes, “It wasn't a good one. Listen, I’m the only smartass around here. Don't try and be funny with me, alright?"

"If I can help it."

"... Get some sleep,” she says as she makes her way to her room.

“I'll try. G’night, Dahlia,” his eyes follow her as she recedes.

The gesture of telling her goodnight causes her to freeze in place momentarily. It seems like she's contemplating what to say in return, which only turns out to be, “... Yeah.” It comes off clearly to the man that banter is her style, but more intimate speaking might... throw her off.

Her door shuts and Crimson is left to his own. He looks around the quiet, darkening home. He finds the couch speaking to him, so he walks over to it, sitting down and falling onto his back. His calves and feet hang off the edge, but the couch itself is rather comfortable. He turns and stares at the ceiling, his mind starts to rattle, rattle with all of the things he knows he should be thinking about. Only few things come up in his mind, his sister, his home, his family... and that voice. Maybe with a good night’s rest, things will come back.

He closes his eyes, exhaling deeply through his nose.

“Crimson?”

“Huh?” he suddenly sits up from his laying position, eyes breaking open to stare into the void. He focuses on Dahlia, realizing he's sitting on the floor.

“… Dude, you look horrible.” Dahlia tilts her head, looking him up and down. "Did you sleep on the floor?"

“Yeah, nah, I, uh..." he stops briefly, fixing his thoughts, "... probably fell off the couch while I was sleeping. I'm good though.” Dahlia tilts her head back slightly, cringing her face to overtly display her complete disbelief. "I'm fine."

She doesn't believe him for a second, concluding that he failed to get even a wink of sleep last night, but she doesn't bother with the subject much further. “... Weeell, aaalright then, if you say so. ... C’mon, breakfast and then go. No time to lose,” Dahlia turns around, trots to the kitchen, and opens a cupboard containing pans. She takes one and places it on the stove, turning the stove on with a match.

Crimson rises and already knows the first thing he must attend to. He walks to the hallway, examining each door. They’re all closed except for one on the far right. He moves to it, peering inside. There's a toilet and sink, so he reckons it's the right room. He opens the door completely and walks into the restroom, tending to his business. He can already hear the kitchen sounding off the music of food being prepared.

"Hey... sorry about your father. He was a good man. ... He loved you and your sister very much."

Crimson closes his eyes for a moment, feeling himself getting stressed as his mind races backwards. It tends to do that from time to time, but he's gotten much better at fighting off the negative emotions of the past. He's lived through poverty, through the death of his father, brother, and mother, and through betrayal.

He never really could be a child for long. For his sister's sake, he needed to grow up quickly, as it was only him and her through hell and high-water, thick and thin. ... But something is missing. Something inside of his mind echoes nothingness every time he tries to tap into certain pieces of his memory.

He doesn't let it bother him for now. He's got plenty of time to figure everything out once he's accustomed to his current situation. After he's done emptying his bladder, he redoes his makeshift loincloth and heads back out to the living area. He looks to Dahlia, who is dancing around the kitchen, pouring this, moving that, cutting there, sprinkling here. It’s rather graceful, he thinks. Fast, efficient, but accurate. It hardly makes any sense since her body moves in ways that normal horses don’t, and shouldn't, but it’s right there. He’s seeing it. It’s happening right there in front of him.

He moves towards the stools that are perched next to the kitchen’s counter, giving him a front row seat to this pony chef in action. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” Crimson asks, gazing at Dahlia as she drops diced potatoes onto the pan.

“Self-taught. One of the few daily tasks that isn’t exactly a chore to me,” she says without distraction.

“Cookin’… hmn,” his eyes focus on the wall.

Dahlia shoots a quick glance at him, seeing him furrowing his brows in thought. “You sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Just thinkin', is all. Feels like I can't remember certain things."

"Don’t think too hard. Don’t wanna hurt that little human brain of yours.”

He leans forward, putting his chin on his palm. His focused stare drops for exhaustion. A few minutes pass in silence as Dahlia finishes preparing breakfast. She takes the two plates onto her wings, walking over like a waitress would, or… like a pony waitress would. It's seriously an odd sight, but there's no use in questioning it. She places one plate in front of Crimson and the other aside his plate. Dahlia hops onto the stool next to him, taking her seat.

“Eat up. And make sure you eat all of it. Food gets expensive.”

Crimson nods, sitting up straight and taking a weird, fork-esque utensil in his right hand. He looks over to— “… What in the world?” his mouth opens slightly in disbelief.

“What?” Dahlia asks with a mouthful of food.

“How'n the hell are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“The fork. How're you holding that thing?”

“What’s with that word you keep using? ‘Hell.’ What does that even mean?” Dahlia tracks Crimson's stare, down to the fork she’s holding with her hoof. “The fork? Well, duuh, I’m able to hold it like you’re able to hold it.”

“Th-- … No?” Crimson squints his eyes, witnessing this feat of witchcraft. It is as if she doesn't understand that fingers are the entire reason he is able to hold his own utensil. Hers simply gravitate towards the shoe of her hoof or something. Her nonchalant attitude towards it signals to him that whatever it is she's doing, it's normal here. “… Nevermind.”

Dahlia shrugs and continues eating. Crimson focuses onto his plate, consisting of eggs with diced potatoes and cooked broccoli. After some prods with his fork and nothing else, the mare glances over to him again, speaking with a full mouth, "The point of the fork is to stab the food, then put it in your mouth."

"Ah, I had no idea. Thanks for the tip."

Dahlia swallows her food and sets down her fork, finished with her plate. "You keep saying you're alright, but you look far from it. Are you actually up for heading out with me today? If you need another day of rest, then get it."

"Nah, I'm good. Really. Like I said, just thinkin' is all... trying to piece stuff together."

“Then don’t think of stuff that will distract you, Crim. If we’re gonna do our thing today, I need your A-game."

“Aye, aye, cap'n Deedee," he smirks at her.

"Deedee?" Dahlia lifts her left brow at the nickname.

"Yeah, Deedee. Y'know, 'Dahlia Do?' Both start with 'D'. Deedee. You don't like it?"

"... It doesn't bother me, I guess. Never heard that nick before, and I've definitely had a few. ... But back to what you said. Are you seriously having memory problems? What, you hit your head on a rock or something?"

"Hm, it's not memory issues, I suppose, it's more like... like..." he drifts off, failing to come up with a comparative conclusion. "I can't really put it into words. It's just like certain memories are missing, but I don't remember what they could be."

“You can't remember what you don't remember, genius. For now, don't worry about it. I need you focused,” she says, looking at Crimson’s half-finished plate.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” he muses, eating some more before stopping once again. His eyes shift to Dahlia’s empty plate, then back to his. “Think I can ask you some stuff, Deedee?”

“Sure, but eat faster. The more daylight we have, the better.”

“… So, that mine or whatever, that place where you found me knocked over. Was that a place you were expectin' to be yesterday?” he asks, stabbing a potato slice and sticking it into his mouth.

“Yeah, I was gonna raid that temple until I saw you stretched out in front of it like a dead dog. Wasn’t able to get back to it after I dragged your fat ass all the way back to my lodge. That took literally all day.”

“Mm. Guess I got lucky, you bein’ there at that time and place,” he says after swallowing, taking more food into his mouth after.

“Not sure what the 'hell' you were thinking going to that place all by yourself with zero knowledge. You would have probably died. I mean, you should be dead right now, but you’re not, so be happy about that,” she gives him a condescending gaze.

“I couldn’t tell you what I was thinkin’ yesterday. Probably because I wasn’t. When I first woke up here, it’s like my body was doin' its own thing. I didn’t think, I just… moved. Almost felt like somethin’ was movin’ for me,” he sets his fork down, finally finished with his plate. "Somethin' about me doesn't feel right."

“So you don’t typically go around touching ancient golden-encrusted doors for the fun of it?”

Crimson shakes his head, still staring down at his fork, "Least I don't try to. I do have a habit of gettin' hurt a lot."

“Break that habit then, cuz you'll die, and I certainly won't be dragging your body around. It was pretty stupid to go and do that, even if your body allegedly moved on its own,” Dahlia rests her foreleg on the counter-top, holding her head with her hoof.

“… Another thing I was curious about. Why did you drag me all the way to your home and sink your time in gettin’ me safe? Bet it had somethin’ to do about sellin’ me for two-thousand 'pieces' or whatever.”

Dahlia straightens up instantly. “… Eehehe. Y-Yeah, so, about that. I was… err…” Crimson shifts his eyes from his plate of food to her, giving her a dead-pan stare. “… Okay. Fine. Yeah. I was gonna sell you. You can't blame me! I mean, look at you! You’re nothing I’ve ever seen before!” she points with both her hooves like if she was presenting some sort of prize. "You would have fetched a serious bag of bits!"

“What’s so different about me? Humans where I come from aren’t very different from myself.”

“Well, lots of things when you really get down to it,” Dahlia looks at him, scanning up and down. “For one, you’re freaky tall. You’ve got the tallest human found in Equestria beat by like an entire foot. Another thing is your body. It’s like someone took a knife and carved you those muscles. Hardly any fat. It’s… well, uh…”

“Appealing?”

“Pfft, keep dreaming, chump. It might be to some other ponies out there, but I’m not as primitive as them,” Dahlia rubs her ears backwards as she presents her position. "I'd say it's more along the lines of 'gross' and 'weird.'"

“Yeah, whatever you say," he says, visibly entertained. "So why aren’t you tryin’ to sell me now?"

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you can TALK. You'd probably rat me out or something. A pony in my line of work has plenty of enemies and zero friends.”

“Rat you out? Nah. I reckon the talkin' human part would add to the value of the sale though.”

“It would probably add to the Royal Guard coming down here along with every powerful sorcerer to find out what the deal with the talking human is,” she remarks seriously. "Crazy magic stuff has been happening recently, so I think your existence would cause some negative waves. Let's keep it on down-low for now, alright?"

It’s obvious to Dahlia that Crimson doesn’t exactly know what she’s talking about, but he seems to get the general idea. “Mm... so what do humans do in this world? You said sellin’, so I reckon they’re property. Figure they’re dumb as a bag of hammers. What purpose would they even serve?”

“Depends on who you ask. Farmers like using them a whole lot. They’re like omni-tools. They can help measure, they can fetch stuff, hold stuff, and some super well-trained ones can even use machinery at a basic level. Pretty cool stuff when you watch them go at it,” she says with an amused smile. “Then, ponies with too many bits love to buy them and play dress-up. There’s human beauty competitions that are held pretty frequently in major cities. Kind of a waste of bits since humans can get pretty expensive, but everyone's got a kink, I guess.”

“… This Equestria world is basically my world... but with horses and humans… flipped?”

“Well you should know. You’ve kinda been there, and I haven't.”

Crimson looks towards the window, seeing the morning sun rising. “Well, I think we should get movin’ then. Food was good by the way. Thanks,” he says as he stands up from the stool.

“Yeah it was good, I made it. I’m amazing,” Dahlia says proudly as she takes the plates with her wings, walking them to the sink and giving them a quick rinse. She proceeds over to her saddlebags and gets them on in one swift toss with her mouth. She directs her gaze over to Crimson, who is still watching the beauty of the morning from the window. “Plan time,” Dahlia speaks, attracting his attention once again. “So this is gonna be a weird situation. You’re gonna have to go undercover with me if you want to attract the least amount of attention as possible. Things will go much more smoothly if nothing seems out of the ordinary.” Crimson raises an eyebrow, allowing her to elaborate. Dahlia squints in thought and continues, “The only thing I can think of that would work is you pretending to be my pet. That way I can—”

“’Scuse me?” Crimson interrupts.

“Mrr, yeah, yeah. I’m not a big fan of the idea either, but that's all I've got. You give me some suggestions then,” she gawks at him in annoyance.

Crimson ponders silently. His blank, dumb look remains plastered on his face. The thought of being perceived as property is insulting, but being a liability comes off as even worse. He isn't familiar with the customs of this land, so her plan is probably the safest bet. Finally, he shrugs and shakes his head, failing to come up with another plan.

“Exactly. Now shush and let me explain. You’re going undercover as my pet. When ponies believe you’re my property, I can get them to piss off if they’re getting too close to you. I… don’t exactly have your proof or anything, so I’ll probably have to think of an excuse for that if we get stopped. Hopefully the sheriff’s still asleep or something.”

“What do I do to NOT attract any attention? What constitutes as normal fer the humans here? Should I be makin’ some sorta noise or somethin’? Like a monkey?”

“Nope, none of that. From what I know, humans don’t make any noises unless they’re angry at something, then they growl. But… stop with the face thing,” her muzzle scrunches as she points at his front.

Crimson replies with the furrowing of his brows, illustrating his confusion.

“Your face. Facial expressions? You know, these things?” Dahlia proceeds to make a silly happy face, a frowny face, and a pouty face. The man finds humor in her expressions, smiling slightly at how adorable they came off.

“You're doing it again. Smiling. Humans don’t make faces, unless they’re pissed off. So don’t make any faces. At all."

"Why's anger the only face they make? That don't seem right."

"You're asking the wrong pony, Crim, but that's how it is. So wipe that smile off your face," Dahlia says as she pseudo-combs her mane.

Crimson slowly opens his mouth for a wide, fake smile that shows his front teeth.

“... Seriously?” Dahlia cringes, taking a step back in disgust.

Crimson rolls his eyes.

“For real, get your game-face on. Literally. We’re heading out,” Dahlia trots over to the couch and picks up the forgotten collar that was knocked onto the floor. She brings it back, using her wings to fly up and place the collar around his neck. Crimson notices that she’s decided to hover and place the collar, rather than couple up to him and stand on her hindlegs like she first did when she thought he was dumb. “Stay close and don’t say a word. Or make any faces. Or do anything at all unless I tell you to,” she demands as she takes the leash hoop into her hoof.

“Whatever you say, master,” he replies boredly.

“Master, ey? I can get used to that.”

“Don’t.”

Dahlia snickers, walking with Crimson behind her out of the lodge and into the forest. She tugs at him lightly and walks around the lodge, heading to a rather specific patch of shrubs.

The collar tugging creates a mix of humiliation and discomfort in Crimson, but he does well to ignore it. They enter the patch, heading past them, revealing a rather discreet path cut into the forest. Probably Dahlia’s own little route.

Crimson takes this time to look around at the forest. Now that he’s seeing it, the colors, the trees, the… everything. It all doesn’t make any sense. Trees are shaped very oddly, the clouds in the sky look nothing like they did back at earth. The sun seems larger, the green of this forest seems too lively. The dirt is soft and rich, no thorns at all. Walking barefoot on this forest ground is very pleasant.

As he looks up at the barely-visible sky, past the tree branches, he feels very unsettled. The idea of him wanting to return home, he knows he wants to, but at the same time, he feels like there's something missing. He remembers a voice, but can't recall what it had said. He certainly knows he doesn't want to be stuck in this foreign land forever, but something inside his very core tells him there's a piece of the puzzle lacking.

As they continue along the path, Dahlia seems uninterested in everything around and remains quiet. Since she’s a denizen of this land, of course everything is usual and boring for her. It doesn't stop Crimson from constantly looking around like a kid in a candy store.

Some minutes of walking pass by, and the forest seems to be receding. Indeed, the forest comes to an end when the lovely soil turns into coarse, dry, and warm dirt. Out in the distance, Crimson spots a town of some sort. It reminds him of… “… Dodge?”

“Yup. Dodge Junction. Home of the best cider you’ll ever dr—” Dahlia’s eyes grow wide and she stops. “… How did you know that was Dodge?”

“It reminds me of Dodge, a place back on earth. Looks almost… exactly like it. It was a nearby town to where my stead was,” his eyes are squinting, trying to get a better view of it from where he stands. "Used to go there and drink all the time with some assholes."

“You're distracted again, Crim. No more talking, mmkay?”

Crimson nods. The two make way to the town, crossing over some unfinished railroad tracks. Upon entering Dodge, Crimson sees a town full of colorful equines roaming about the early morning. He stares at the scenes happening before him. Technicolor ponies drawing carts full of produce, walking in and out of wooden buildings, some even levitating items with some sort of ethereal energy that glows from the bone-spike protruding from their forehea--

“Nrh,” Crimson grunts.

Dahlia looks at him with an annoyed expression, tugging the collar. Crimson returns a spiteful gaze, but quickly reassumes his facade. Dahlia continues walking with her pet human. Once inside the town, Crimson is too busy looking at the structural layout of the town itself to notice anything else. He directs his sight to the far end, finding the sheriffs office at the top of the T. The semblance of this place to what he knows is uncanny. “Mrh!” he grunts again as he is slightly staggered by Dahlia forcefully pulling the collar again. He gives her a look of angst, not understanding what he did wrong this time. She slows down and walks beside him, her side rubbing against his left thigh.

“Try. Not. To be. So. Tall. Everypony’s looking at you,” she whispers through her teeth.

Crimson takes a look around. Large, curious, colorful pony eyes, all staring at him, mares and stallions alike. Half the town has halted their routine to just stare at him. He looks forward, keeping his face blank and stupid, slouching the most he can to drop a few inches off his height. Dahlia leads herself and her new pet towards a store on the right side of town, a store that has a sign which displays a silhouette of a pony wearing boots and a hat.

Upon entering the door, a bell jingles out their entrance. A mare sits on a counter at the far end of this establishment. Crimson looks around, smelling the smell of… cloth, and shoe polish. A clothing store to be sure. All of it looks so small and oddly designed, and he comes to realize that it’s pony clothes, and commences fighting the urge to snicker at how silly it all appears to him. Why would a pony even need boots?

“Morning to you, Miss Do! How can I--? … Oh? Ooh~” the light brown and orange mare tending the store is immediately drawn to the human. “Miss Do, when did YOU buy a human? I remember you saying that you weren’t interested in that sort of thing!”

“Hey, Winty. Well, I had a… well, look at him! I couldn’t have possibly have passed this one up!” Dahlia smiles as she points her left wing at Crimson.

“Oh, I agree completely! What. A. Stud! He’s nothing I’ve ever seen before! What breed is he?” the mare questions as she moves herself around the counter to approach Crimson.

“Hm, I don't know. It wasn’t ever specified to me, but he sure does look great, right?"

“Definitely!” the mare looks up to Crimson’s eyes. Her large, orange irises reach into his soul.

He gazes back into her large, beautiful orbs. He feels mesmerized looking at them from such a close distance. They shimmer beautifully, and they're reflecting the world almost perfectly.

“Mmm, you don’t suppose your lovely human here is good for breeding is he?~ I would just love to—"

“Castrated,” Dahlia spouts. “Sorry, Winty…”

“Aww, shoot. That's a real bummer. But that explains why he’s such a good boooy~” the mare leaps up onto her hindlegs, balancing herself the same way Dahlia first did. Crimson leans down automatically enough for her to run her hoof through his messy red hair, and luckily, it was the proper thing to do. She doesn't suspect a thing. The smallness of these ponies is that much more apparent when they're this close to him.

“Yeah, so," Dahlia begins, "I was just stopping by to get some clothes for him. Don’t suppose you got any human clothes in stock?” she asks, staring at Crimson’s expression. He’s still managing to hold that bored, tired, stupid face. She feels a sense of relief, giving some admiration to the man's fortitude. She almost senses that he's a little too good at that face.

“Ah, of course!” the store mare falls onto all fours, turning and trotting with haste towards the back of the counter. She rummages under it, out of sight. Dahlia gives her human a confident glance, who in turn returns nothing but a bored gaze. The store mare takes out a box and places it onto the counter. “Here we are! I’m… sorry that we don’t have anything very gracious to fit your lovely human with, but it’s something!” she chuckles.

“No problem. Thanks, Winty,” Dahlia says as she approaches the box, looking inside of it.

Drab cloth shirts, shoddily hemmed pants, flip flops. The man looks at the contents of the box with pure delight. His critically squinting eyes simply shout with glee.

“I think I’ll take this one. This, and this one,” Dahlia takes out the largest shirt that’s in there, some hard-wearing fabric shorts that have many pockets, and the only pair of footwear.

“Sure thing, miss Do! That’ll be…” the mare looks over at the clothes, then to Crimson. Dahlia reaches into her saddlebag and takes out her coin purse, waiting for a price to be called. “… Mm, you know what, miss Do? Help yourself! I couldn’t charge that adorable human of yours a single bit for these drabs~” the mare flutters her enticing eyes at him.

“Uh…" Dahlia looks between Crimson and the love-struck mare. "Thanks? ... You sure I can just take this stuff?”

“Well, you could... if... I could give that handsome stud a… peck on the cheek?” the mare smiles wryly, with a small blush forming on her face.

“Oh, that's it? Really? Hah, go right ahead! Free clothes!” Dahlia smiles, looking at Crimson. His brows twitch slightly, actively preventing themselves from furrowing.

Winty trots around the counter again, moving to the human with anticipation. She jumps up again, resting her forelegs on his abdomen. She gazes into his eyes for a silent moment. The blush on her face is hard to ignore, and her glistening eyes are entrancing.

Crimson leans down again, letting Winty reach her muzzle in. She presses her lips against his cheek. Her soft, fuzzy nose tickles his skin. Both the mare and the human share an ecstatic shiver of such a distinctly surreal sensation.

She retracts and giggles, “Oohohoho! What an amazing human!” she falls back to her four legs, and Crimson stands straight again. “You know, my cousin last time wanted to kiss a human. It didn’t turn out so well!” she says, trying to make it sound as lighthearted as possible.

“Really? What happened?” Dahlia looks at her curiously as she takes the clothes that now belong to her.

“The, um… the human… bit her a little. On the cheek. Really bad scars now,” her ears flop to her head.

“Sorry to hear, Winty. That sucks,” Dahlia says as empathetically as she can.

“No, its fine. She’s put it past her now. I think. I hope. Anyway, you keep that lovely human of yours safe! He’s a charmer!” Winty says, returning to her post behind the counter.

“Sure will. Appreciate you, Winty,” Dahlia says as she starts to fit Crimson into the drab clothes.

“Anytime! Come back soon! Preferably with your human!” Winty snickers.

The two step out of the clothing store and walk under the morning sun.

After being fitted into his new attire, Crimson feels even more annoyed now than ever. The shirt fits too small at the shoulders and arms, but fits very baggy at the waist. The length of the shirt is also lacking for his height. The shorts fit rather well, but are kind of uncomfortable from how terribly stitched they are. And the flip flops, after spending his entire life wearing boots, are definitely something to get used to.

“Good job, Crim. I'm impressed. That went off without a hitch. Just need to pick up some food stuffs, and we’ll be out of here soon. How’re you holding up?” Dahlia looks at the man. He does nothing but walk along side her, keeping his face stagnant. Dahlia snickers at him, obviously getting a rise out of his humiliating situation.

The two make their path to one of the larger buildings in this town. A building that has an eggplant and a banana painted onto the sign that hangs out front.

Crimson keeps his posture as discrete as possible, yet still attracts the eyes of surrounding ponies. The concept 'staring is rude' seems to elude these colorful equines.

They enter the food-housing establishment, the smell of herbs and greens tickle Crimson’s nose. Fresh produce, just as he had back at home. Dahlia notices the towering human's brows are furrowed in the same manner that he does when thinking too hard. She squints at him, tugging the collar twice. The man blinks rapidly, restoring the blank expression.

The ponies that are buying food in this establishment gawk at the man.

“Ey, lady. NO hum’ns allowed in the sto’!” says a rather fat stallion sitting at the cash register near the front entrance.

“Oh. I forgot. Yeah, my bad,” Dahlia rubs the back of her head. The stallion looks angry and impatient, and he's probably the owner. No need to piss off the only pony with food to sell within several miles. Dahlia walks with Crimson outside, finding a wooden pillar to tie the leash to. “Sorry, Crim. Just wait for me here, mmkay?” she murmurs, tying the leash firmly. She gives him one final glance before entering the store and disappearing from sight.

Crimson stands there, blank-face and slouched over. This posture is really starting to bother his back.

Everything seems to be fine. Other than stares, Crimson is mostly left to his own device. His eyes lazily shift around, trying to find something interesting to pass the time. Ponies roaming, doing… pony things. Some pulling wooden carriages with produce, others carrying bags around. One other pony is flopping out of, what he assumes is, a saloon. The stumbling idiot attracts the man's attention for a bit. He watches him stagger around, until he finally eats the dirt and falls asleep at the front of the saloon.

“Mamma, look! Human, human!” Crimson darts his eyes to the source of the young squeaky voice. A tiny white and grey filly with huge cyan eyes is flapping her tiny wings as she points at him. There's a pegasus mare and an earth stallion just behind her. The mare walking with the filly by the hoof looks at her daughter with confusion and concern. “Can I pet the human, mamma? Please, please?”

“No, Furi. They can be dangerous,” the mare states in disgust. "Remember what happened to Misty's friend?"

“Pleeeeaaaaaaase!” the filly looks at her mom, her eyes shimmer as if they were about to cry.

“C’mon, sweetheart," says the husband. "Look at him. He looks like a nice guy. M’Sure the owner won’t mind some attention if they just left him right there."

“Misty's. Friend. Harker." the wife snaps critically.

"Misty also said that Pom was botherin' that human by throwin' sticks at it to get it to play fetch. Humans don't play fetch. Furi'll be fine, won't ya' sweetie?" he asks, smiling down at his daughter.

"… If something happens to our little Furi, Harker, this will be the LAST straw,” the mare scowls at her husband.

“Sure, sure, Misty and her friend are already over what happened. You should get over it too. C’mon, Furi, let’s go pet the human.”

“Yaay! Papa!” the filly flaps her wings quickly as she hops alongside her father. The two approach Crimson a little cautiously. The dad puts on a stern face for the daughter, but the mom lags behind, her faced worried with a big, teethy frown.

“Hey there, big guy. You look like a nice fella. Don’t bite us, y’hear? We’re friends. Friendly ponies,” the father says soothingly. Crimson stares at him blankly, apparently doing well in deceiving this family of equines.

The dad lets out a tense sigh as he picks up his daughter with one hoof. She’s so small, she practically fits on it perfectly. Crimson resists the urge to vocalize her adorableness... he's also really glad he got some clothes on before this. It would be tragic if all he had on was his loin cloth for this encounter.

The dad moves his arm, leaning his daughter in closer and closer. He almost retracts his daughter from pure anxiousness, but once she's close enough, the little filly, with a huge, happy smile, reaches over and pats Crimson’s head.

“Aww, who’s a good wittle human!” the filly says, running her tiny hoof back and forward, scraggling his hair more than it already is. The dad lets out a sigh of relief.

Crimson sniffs discretely, the little filly smells something like... maple syrup?

“Okaay! Okaay! That’s enough! Get her away, Harker! Please!?” the wife says in a panic.

“Sheesh, learn to live a little Shumi,” the husband rolls his eyes, retracting his daughter away. He sets her down next to him, but the little filly suddenly runs over and hugs Crimson’s right shin. “Wowowoh, that’s enough Furi, don’t wanna push his buttons now,” the dad pulls his daughter off and away, holding her to his chest. He then stares at Crimson, looking up into his eyes, “… Heh, you’re a stellar guy. Give my regards to your owner,” he chuckles, walking past the man, off and away with his family. The daughter is heard giggling and cheering as they leave from sight.

Crimson refrains a smile that wants to present itself, keeping his character in check. He swears he can still feel the tiny filly's hoof patting him. It was an extremely enjoyable experience for him, but not one he'd want to make normative.

The doors to the store suddenly bust open and Dahlia looks towards the man with wide eyes. “Ah, good, you’re still here. Alright, time to head home. Hold these for me,” she trots to Crimson, giving him four brown bags that contain all sorts of produce. Crimson takes them into his arms, giving the tan pony a disinterested glance. She moves and unties the leash from the wooden pole, taking it into her hoof.

They commence the trek back to the forest, and as they leave the junction, the man notices that he’s still getting some looks, but not the same way as before. After that little interaction, they appear to look at him in a… less critical fashion. Not by a large margin, but still, less so. The two recede into the forest, making their way back to the lodge.

“Shootin' bastards on my lawn one night, actin' like a dog the next morning," Crimson says sarcastically.

"Such is life," Dahlia replies with a shrug.

"So, what’s the game plan now?”

“For now, we’ll just get this stuff situated and I’ll do a quick run of logistics. I plan on taking on that temple you kept me from.”

“Mn. Alone?”

“It’s how I perform best. I mean, if you REEAALLY want to come, I won’t stop you. Just don’t start crying when a spike takes your arm off or something.”

Crimson smirks, amused at her quip. He takes the prodding as a challenge, deciding to venture with her in her little escapade.

“That should be everything. It’ll last us plenty of time before the next bag of bits comes rolling around,” Dahlia says, putting the last of the produce inside of the self-made preserving bin in her kitchen. She doesn't have any electrical appliances, but her ability to make due with out them is astonishing.

"Next bag of bits? Thought you said my clothes fetched a solid price," Crimson says, scanning his eyes across the brown bags that litter the kitchen counter. He finishes getting the collar off from around his neck, letting it drop to the floor. "This's gotta be less than a week's worth of food."

"Which is plenty. Don't worry about the details."

"Who'd you even sell my clothes too?"

"Someone who's probably really far away now."

Crimson sighs and shakes his head, but he doesn't mull over it for long. “I’m mighty surprised that little endeavor of ours worked out so well."

“Course it did," Dahlia grins, "remember who you're partnered with."

"How can I forget when she keeps remindin' me. You're mighty good at lyin', y'know that?"

"It's one of my specialties," her grin only widens as she buffs her chest with her hoof.

"I ain't sure that's somethin' to be proud of."

"Oh, be happy that it all went smoothly," Dahlia retorts seriously. "Easy days are few and far between, and today’s not even over, it’s actually just getting started.”

“It was kinda unnervin' me how I was gettin’ looked at. Are humans seriously that troublesome? Dangerous? Bitin’ ponies?”

“Yeah, they can get pretty bad. They’re not… ‘troublesome’, per se, they’re just super territorial. They don’t go out looking for fights or anything, they live out on their own, usually in caves. They keep to themselves, hunt and gather, have sex, sleep, die. Typical human cycle.”

“That cycle goes for lots of things in nature."

“Humans are technically apart of nature, so yeah, pretty much,” Dahlia says as she trots over to her saddlebags, picking them up off the single-cushion couch and taking them to the kitchen.

“If humans are so territorial and violent, why do y’all keep them as pets? Ain’t that one of the worst things you can do?”

“We don’t go trapping WILD humans, Crim. That would be extremely stupid. Ponies just steal or breed baby humans and raise them from birth. That’s pretty much the only way their wild side gets tamed, imprint them and acclimate them from birth. Wild humans are too unpredictable to keep as pets, even with all of the best training in Equestria,” Dahlia speaks as she places some things in her saddlebags.

“Sounds like a pain in the ass for somethin’ you don’t exactly need."

“Well, when you’re a snobby elitist with all the bits you could possibly want, you get bored. Bored ponies with lots of money do dumb things. Besides, humans are becoming more and more accessible since their breeding market has taken off. You can buy a domesticated one for nearly a fifth of what they costed a few years back.”

Crimson lets the information sink in, staring at nothing in particular.

“Alright. Time to head out for the big money,” Dahlia gets her saddlebags on, moving some of her mane out of her face. “You ready to head out, big guy?’” she speaks in a slightly mocking tone, still surprised that he's willing to come raiding with her.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“The temple's two miles east, we’ll be there in under an hour.”

"Got it."

The duo make way for the door and head out, walking down from the porch and commencing the trek East, opposite from Dodge. They cross a stone pathway that spans over the river in front of Dahlia’s lodge, then they make way to the forest. It appears to Crimson that Dahlia has already cut a narrow path this way as well, recently cut branches and toppled grass give all the clues he needs.

They've walked in silence for the most if the tour. The sounds of creatures, rustling leaves, and each others’ dirt-muffled steps fill the ecosystem. Crimson admires the scenery, having come from an arid desert landscape, he finds deep appreciation for the beauty of nature.

After a thought strikes him, he glances down at Dahlia with a question. "Deedee?"

"Mm?"

“Did you really drag me two miles all the way back to yer lodge?”

“No, you just magically appeared at my doorstep. Yes, I dragged you all the way back. It was kind of annoying, you weigh like a billion tons.”

“A billion tons," he repeats imperviously, drawing them back into silence.

After walking for a while, Crimson halts at the sound of Dahlia's voice, snapping out of his daydreaming.

“Stop... look,” Dahlia whispers as she leans over a bush nearly her size. Crimson leans in also, looming above her. They spot something resting just outside of the entrance to the temple. “Dead griffon," she inquires. "Guess they tried to get their grubby claws on whatever it is inside that temple. Funny, that griffon would have been you if you weren’t… well… YOU.”

“Think that ‘grif-fun’ had friends?” Crimson questions as he stares at the motionless mass ahead. "Couldn't have been just one."

“Nah. Knowing them, they just hightailed it after they couldn’t figure out the door mechanism.” Dahlia drops her saddlebags behind a shady shrub and enters the faded path where Crimson had passed out before. She walks cautiously towards the heavy, golden-encrusted metal door, and Crimson follows close behind her. She stops just before it, standing next to the dead body. “That thing’s starting to stink. Could you dump it somewhere else, Crim?”

Crimson turns his face and looks at the dead creature, scanning it and taking in its very existence.

He crouches down and picks up the griffon with both arms, unbothered by the sight of death or the handling of the dead. As he holds it, he examines each little feather on its head. It's definitely still a fresh body and it doesn't smell yet, Dahlia was probably just being a tactless. There might even be a small twinkle of life possibly lingering in this griffon's half-lidded eyes. ... Nah, probably not.

He notes that this griffon is a female, judging by its strangely prominent eyelashes. He then looks down at its hindlegs, how fur and hide protects its lower half, in contrast to feathers being plumed all over its head and neck.

He turns around with it in his arms, walking out a distance from the temple door. He comes to a halt in front of a patch of flora off the side of the path, staring at the griffon for a little longer.

He leans forward and sets the griffon down into a patch of short bushes that now act as its funeral bed. He then looks down at his left hand, where three feathers have gotten stuck to it, navy blue and white in coloration. They're kind of beautiful in their own right despite being clipped and ruined. He uses his right hand to pluck them off one by one, letting them fall slowly to the forest ground.

He stands back up and returns to Dahlia.

“Hah, this door is cake,” she says with a grin.

“That wasn’t the case for at least two of us,” Crimson muses.

“Then again, both of you aren’t as great as I am, so yeah, this super simple door was bound to turn you around.” Dahlia steps back a few paces and spreads her wings, “Get clear of the door, and I mean very clear. I'm gonna trigger it real quick."

Crimson takes some steps back, getting a fair bit of distance from himself to the door. Dahlia bolts like a bat out of hell, kicking the door handle and backing away just as fast as she approached it.

Click.

The mechanism behind the door sounds off. In the blink of an eye, a dart hits a tree to the right of Dahlia, just barely missing her. With a cocky smile, the pegasus lands promptly and walks over to the dart, gripping it with her mouth carefully and yanking it out of the tree. Once freed, she walks to the door and takes the dart into her right wing. Crimson sees her wing act as a set of phalanges, and although very uncanny, he admires the utility it serves.

Dahlia aims the dart into a small, easily missable hole that’s located just above the handle. She enters the dart into the hole, and it fitting perfectly inside. The liquid inside the dart injects itself into a small hole in the lock, and the door clicks. “Ta-dah! One super easy temple door opened,” she pockets the dart in her shirt, smiling proudly.

“Huh. How’d you figure that out?"

“A little thing called intuition.”

Crimson doesn’t seem very satisfied with this answer, but takes it anyway. Dahlia opens the door and swings it wide. She peers inside, with Crimson directly behind her peeking inside as well. After Dahlia's signal that it's safe, the two enter the temple. Crimson leans out and closes the door behind them, but not all the way, leaving but an inch before the door shuts.

They are met with a long, wide hallway. Sandstone arches are evenly spaced out through the length of the hall, and engravings on the walls and arches span symmetrically across the entirety. Crimson takes it all in, never before exposed to this style of architecture. The halls are lit with sky vents, letting in small rays of sunlight in evenly spaced patterns.

“Stay close and stay focused," Dahlia says. "If you die, I'm giving you your goodbyes right now."

Crimson squints at her, finding little amusement in her very cold and brute comment, but she doesn't bother to acknowledge his stare, she keeps moving forward as if she just stated the weather. Crimson returns to looking at the wall etchings and symbols, studying them and trying to decipher them with little luck.

Nearing the end of this long hall, they are met with a spacious room, perfectly square in shape. The far end of the room holds three doors with engravings etched onto them, but nothing else other than that, giving the essence of being inside a huge sandy cube.

“The classic ‘pick-a-door,’” Dahlia utters boredly. “Strange. These rooms usually have something around that gives clues. There’s nothing in here. No engravings or little doodles on the walls, just those doors right there. Mn, give me a moment to crack this,” she says, walking to the middle door first.

Crimson stays back, examining from afar. He crosses his arms and looks at the three doors before him, scrutinizing each one. The only things in this room that give any sort of clue are the doors, but they don’t serve much in the realm of answers. The rest of this room is barren clay and sandstone wall, so there can't be any hints in here.

Dahlia touches the doors, gently running her hoof along the engravings. Crimson steps back, looking out into the hallway they came through. Then, coming back into the room again, he calls out, “I’m thinkin’ it’s the middle door."

“The middle door?" Dahlia repeats incredulously. "Taking the middle path is what ponies who die do."

“Well look at the other two. Look at them symbols on the doors." Dahlia's unpersuaded front looks at the left and right doors at his request, hardly analyzing them as he wanted her to. Crimson then points to the door in the center, “Then look at the middle door. That middle door’s the only one with them symbols in a uniform pattern. Recall them arches and scribbles in the hall we just came through?”

Eureka strikes the tan pegasus as the words coming from his mouth click suddenly. “They… were all perfectly symmetrical. You’re a genius, Crim!” Dahlia’s eyes widen and she gives the man a large, probably unintentional smile.

“Yeah, I’m pretty amazing."

Like a balloon suddenly popping, Dahlia's demeanor shifts instantly. She rolls her eyes, flicking her tail dismissively as she turns and walks towards the middle door. “Yeah, yeah, beginner’s luck.”

“I’d rather use the term, ‘intuition."

“I'd rather use the term, 'annoying',” Dahlia says as she takes the middle door, pushing it open and walking in. Just as they had hoped, it isn't trapped. This middle door leads to another hall with the same structure and composition as the previous one. They walk for a few meters when they notice that the hall is now coming to a decline, down, deeper into the temple.

“You do this kinda stuff for a livin’?” Crimson asks as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Yup. Been doing it for years now.”

“Not a very safe way to make money, y’know.”

“Psh, 'not safe.' Not only are these temples foal-walks, the payout beats out what any other lame job could ever get you. Besides, you're one to talk. Didn't you say something about 'shooting shit?' Like with a gun? Killing is dangerous too."

"You're talkin' as if you haven't had to."

"I don't kill in my line of work, and I don't like to. I'm an escape artist, I make sure confrontation is few and far between... unlike you."

"You talk as if you know me. My situation was different. I wasn't puttin' myself in danger on purpose to make some quick bucks, I used my gun to defend myself from the aforementioned assholes I used to drink with, after they done back-stabbed me and tried to kill me 'n my sister. I didn't go out 'n cap people for the hell of it."

"I don't know, sounds like excuses to me."

"Believe what you want... but this implies you know what a gun is. There a place I can get one here in Equestria?"

"No, they've been outlawed because they're insanely dangerous. They're inconsistent and caused nothing but trouble. Earth ponies have to wear battle-saddles to use guns, and a lot of the time, it's less efficient than a unicorn's magic. Pegasus are completely out of the picture since the saddle restricts our wing movement, and most of us aren't strong enough to actually carry the saddle around. So, after a long and tireless debate from Canterlot officials, guns have been outlawed and no longer produced. Had you been here fifteen years ago, they were everywhere. Took nearly a decade for black markets to finally let them go, and even then, you can probably scower Equestria for a pea-shooter somewhere. Nothing like they used to have though."

“What a shame. Would like me my gun back."

"You'll manage."

Crimson finds himself backed into another wall with her in terms of conversation. Whether it's him she's trying to shut down or the conversation topic, he doesn't let it bother him, but he internally hopes this isn't how she's gonna be, especially if they're destined to work together for some amount of time. He ponders something else to bring up, away from the current topic. "... Well, those puzzles are pretty fun, I’ll give ya’ that. These temples have little games to play."

“Puzzles are the easiest part. The hard parts come from the--” Dahlia interrupts herself as she comes to a halt. Crimson stops as well, looking at what lies ahead. “-- trap rooms."

The hallway ends as another room lies ahead. This room is a bit larger, easily over fifty by fifty feet. There is a thin, one inch wide stone catwalk that leads from one end to the other. Crimson notices thin glistening lines all around the room, some sort of wire or webbing. He then looks down at the seemingly endless pit that surrounds the thin strip of ground.

“I don’t even want to know how far down that goes,” Dahlia mutters, “falling off that paper-thin walkway will wrap you all up in those webs there. Can’t move. Can’t fly. Only fall and die.”

“Who ever made this is mentally unsound,” Crimson says with furrowed brows, taking a step back from the edge.

“Huh, you think this is bad? Trust me, there’s much, much worse out there.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. ... I'm thinkin' I can't cross this."

“You're thinkin' is correct. Look,” Dahlia points to the webbing above the catwalk, “that’s gonna catch your head, even if you duck down. These webs were placed down to match a pony’s height. You can’t crawl either, there’s webs evenly spaced out on that walkway. Plus, you’re too wide. You gotta stay back.”

“You’re just gonna leave me here."

"I won't."

"I'm havin' a bit of trouble believing you."

“Ugh, I won't! Just trust me,” Dahlia responds in a terribly aggravated demeanor. Her snappy nature doesn't shine a bright light on the situation, and unwilling to press her further, Crimson puts his hands into his pockets in silent defeat.

Dahlia breaths deeply to compose herself, turning and standing before the catwalk. She puts one hoof down on it. Then the next one. She moves her hindlegs in sync with her forelegs, leaving one hindleg and one foreleg floating off a bit in an adjacent fashion. She manages to balance herself perfectly on two legs, trading spots with her other two legs every time she takes a step. Another set of steps. Another. Crimson feels his heart racing just watching her. The glistening webs surround her like a shadow swallowing light.

Step. Step. Step. Dahlia ever so slowly continues along the path. She is already halfway there. Crimson is baffled by her sense of balance.

“Crimson?”

“Huh?” his eyes widen. He turns around, swearing he heard his sister call for him from behind.

The shattered silence gets a small tense-up from Dahlia, making her clench her teeth. “… Would. You. Kindly. Shut up?”

“…” Crimson looks back at Dahlia, then around himself again... Viola's voice, it sounded so close and warm.

“… Nch, nnh. Shit. Nnrh."

Crimson snaps his gaze towards the tan mare. “You alright? What’s goin’ on?”

“My tail. I think it’s stuck,” Dahlia utters without moving a muscle.

Crimson leans in a bit closer and squints. He sees it there, a web has stuck itself to Dahlia’s tail. The webs are much stronger and stickier than they appear to be. “Yeah, you got a thing on your tail. Can you still move with that?”

“I could... if I wanted to bring the mass of webs down and get myself killed,” Dahlia murmurs impatiently. Crimson desperately looks around for something, anything, that could help. “Just… try to be quiet.”

Crimson raises his left brow, surprised at her tackiness even in such a bad situation. Dahlia slowly, very slowly, uses the foreleg that she has dangling off the edge to reach over to her shirt pocket. She takes out the dart that she stowed away, and with the motions of a patient snail, she moves her foreleg back, extending the dart out so the tip aims at her tail. She guesses which part of her tail is caught… and methodically swipes the dart’s fine end to slice off a small piece of her tail.

She slowly moves forward.

"Mrh. Still stuck," Dahlia whispers in her own head.

She guesses again, to no avail.

"Damn it... c'mooon..."

Again.

"Rrgh…"

Crimson watches, resisting the urge to speak up and help, but he stops himself and thinks about it critically. He realizes that Dahlia does this for a living… she is probably more than capable of getting out of that mess… he hopes.

She guesses one more time, attempting to move forward a little. Got it, she says in her mind as a small smile places itself on her mouth. She slowly brings the dart back and pockets it once again. She continues forward, until she successfully makes it to the other side and freely wiggles her body. “Phew, that was pretty sketchy.” She sees the man giving her a thumbs up from across the room, unsure what he even means by that. She shrugs to herself and looks around, simply walking away, disappearing from sight.

After a moment of nothing occurring, Crimson squints. He remains standing near the edge of the webbed room, hoping that something happens... and to his dismay, nothing but a shivering howl of the cold temple air resonates. He stands there by himself with nothing but time passing him by.

Suddenly, his body shifts into defensive mode when a loud mechanism goes off to his right. He raises his fists with dilated eyes, witnessing a section of the wall near him rising into the ceiling, revealing a hidden path. He lowers his guard, glancing down this path, then over to where Dahlia was. She reappears into view. “Come on over!”

With several tons lifted off his conscious, he sighs in relief. He walks with determination, taking the hidden path to his partner. The way it curves left, this path stretches around the perimeter of the web room. He comes out the other end, finding a cocky Dahlia waiting for him.

“Heh, told ya’ to trust me,” she looks to her left in a snide manner.

“And that’s exactly what I did."

“Yeah right, you were all, 'uuuh, you’re gonna just leave me here!'”

Crimson doesn't put in the effort to retort. The two continue down another hallway of the same architecture to the previous halls. Walking through this hallway leads to another room, and this one looks to be the same size as the first one with the three doors. The two examine this room, finding that it has a canal cut into the middle, maybe two feet wide and two feet deep. Water flows through it, coming out of the ground from the left side of the wall and flowing into the right.

Dahlia notices that there are grooves all over the floor, like if someone took a bowl and set it inside still-drying cement. Dahlia counts twenty grooves, which are evenly spaced, placed all throughout the edges of the room. Crimson spots a piece of ancient pottery on a pedestal next to the exit of this room.

“A flask, water, and some holes,” Dahlia mutters. “They couldn’t think of something more original?”

“I suppose not everyone is as bright and cunning as you, miss Do.”

“Ew, don’t call me that. The other name you use is just fine.”

Crimson walks over the flowing water to reach the flask that is propped up on the pedestal. He takes it, walking back to Da—

“Hnh?” Both of them question at the same time. The wall behind them rumbles violently, the entrance they came through is closing fast.

“Shoot, gimme gimme!” Dahlia says, motioning with her hooves to the flask. “If that door closes on us, we’re locked in and we’re screwed!”

Crimson makes haste to her, handing her the flask, which she practically steals from him. She zips down quickly to fill the flask with water, then proceeding to dash over to the closest groove, pouring the water from the flask into it. With enough water to fill another, she does so. It seems that one full flask is enough for two grooves.

The door is almost halfway shut.

Crimson looks around, his eyes are darting all over the place. He looks at the flowing water, coming up with a terrible plan. He gets down on his knees, leaning down and filling his mouth with water and taking some into his cupped hands. The water in his mouth tastes grossly salted, his left eye closes in disgust, but he carries it anyway. He runs over to the closest groove on the opposite side of Dahlia’s work. He dumps the water from his hands and mouth into the groove, filling it a small amount.

The two continue this pace. The door is three quarters down. Dahlia occasionally glances at the door, eyes dilating further and further as it makes its descent. They continue to move with the conviction of a doe fleeing from a lion.

Five left. Four left. Three, two. One groove left.

Crimson spits into the last groove, finally filling it up.

The door, centimeters from shutting, clicks loudly. With the sound of mechanisms working, the door begins to open back up. The door that exits this room and leads into the next room appears to be opening as well.

The duo sweating from anxiety sigh in relief. Dahlia smiles over at the man, “That was stupid close… good thinking there, Crim. You only filled one hole the entire time, but that one hole saved our sorry hides."

“You sayin’ you would’a gotten trapped if you came here alone?” Crimson suggests playfully.

“Let’s not get carried away. I don’t exactly ‘need’ you here. I would’a got it done on my own, just like I always have,” she huffs, losing the tenderness and trading it for defensiveness.

There it is again, that complete reversal in attitude. It's apparent that this little pony isn't a 'people person.' Her distant disposition advises Crimson to give her some mental space. She was probably serious back at her lodge when she said, 'I'm the only one who makes jokes.'

The two walk through the newly opened door, into another hallway of the same structure as before.

“Guessin’ whoever worked this place really enjoyed this style,” Crimson comments, looking at the hallway. “They somehow were able to replicate each little scribble or whatever. Not sure how they managed to do that. Takes some skill in the finer crafts, I reckon.”

“Nah, probably magic."

“… Magic?”

“Yeah. You know? Unicorns? The horns on their head? Capable of moving stuff with it? Magic.”

“… Huh,” Crimson sounds, thinking of all of the bone-appendages he saw glowing on some pony's heads back at Dodge. "Magic."

They finally arrive to the end of the hall. Now they stand before a very, very large room. The end of this hallway leads to a wide bridge that directs a path to the center of the large room. There, in the center, lies a great stone pedestal that holds...

“Look. Right there. That’s our payday,” Dahlia says as she walks forward.

Crimson is busy examining the room itself. Large, perfectly spaced pillars from the ground to the ceiling all around the room. The engravings on the walls and pillars themselves are perfectly aligned and symmetrical. The ceiling of this room has mirrors layered all throughout, reflecting everything off the ground in a terribly disorienting fashion. “This is… impressive." He walks forward to catch up with Dahlia, who is already standing before the pedestal. He looks at what the it holds, it appears to be a perfectly spherical, smooth, reflective orange ball, small enough to be put into a medallion or pendant. It emits a soft, orange shimmering aura.

“… No. This couldn’t be. I thought this was only an old mare’s tale,” Dahlia mumbles to herself.

“What is?”

“This… this relic. It-- … watch, here,” Dahlia takes the relic, shoving it onto Crimson’s chest, “hold this.”

Confused, but doing what she asks, he holds it in the palm of his hand, cupping his fist around it. Dahlia, without warning, shoves him with both forelegs as hard as she can. He grunts and stumbles back, but his left leg rises and stomps back, fixing his equilibrium instantly. “What the?” he squints at the mare in vexation.

“Haha! You see? That relic, it’s the Orb of Tramana. The relic of balance! That ball is capable of perfecting your sense of balance! You could stand on a pine seed without falling over with this thing!” Dahlia takes it back from Crimson, holding it close to her face.

“That’s, uh… swell?" His excitement is prominently plastic. “Sounds to me like you didn’t actually know what was in this death trap temple. Or if there was anything at all.”

“Well, no. Obviously. No one really knows anything for sure. Just gotta take a leap of faith!”

Crimson eyes daggers at the reckless pony who's too busy with the relic to acknowledge him.

“You see, this relic… it comes from a family of relics. Ancient, powerful pony enchanters made a set hundreds of moons ago. Relics that would mess with the properties of the world itself! One would give you super strength and reflexes! Another would perfect your depth perception! One is even able to travel through TIME! We're not entirely sure what happened to the ponies who made these things, and information about them is practically non-existent... but one thing's for sure, they REAAALLY didn't want anyone to find these.”

“For good reason, the damn things sound extremely dangerous.”

“No crap they're dangerous. That's why they'll probably sell for so much! Legend has it… if all of the relics are united together, their abilities are enhanced a million-fold! Pretty crazy stuff!”

"Why would anyone make somethin' like this?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"That ain't a good answer. For something this dangerous, this temple obviously didn’t work,” he stares at Dahlia holding the orange sphere.

“Well you can’t keep ME out, I’m too amazing. Plus, keep in mind that pretty much no one even knows these exist, so don't worry too much about the end of the world or whatever. C’mon, me and my newly trimmed tail are already sick of this place,” she says as she walks past the pedestal.

Crimson slowly shakes his head and walks with her, feeling his patience running thinner and thinner.

They approach a small archway that leads to a spiraling staircase. They take this staircase up a few hundred steps before they reach the top. They enter a small square room that only has a lever in it, and Dahlia pulls it, causing a fake wall to give way. “Now we can get some fresh air,” she beams with a bit of swagger in her trot.

The exit leads into a cavern system, where the exit to this cavern is seen out in the distance a good-some meters ahead. The cave is pitch black, but the light at the end of the tunnel guides them. They step carefully, unable to see exactly where their legs are going to land. This cave is quiet and oddly warm, musky even.

It almost feels as if--

“Gy-woh!” Crimson suddenly sounds, tripping over and falling onto his side, grunting in annoyance.

“Nice one, dumbo,” Dahlia mumbles.

“RGH? ARAUGH!”

“Sheesh, calm down, Crim, I was joking.”

“… That wasn’t me,” he says as he rises.

“… What do you mean?”

“RRRAH!” “URAUR!”

A flood of unrelenting screams and wild growls fill the cave. Dahlia's ears fall flat on her head and her wings spread wide, “HUMANS! RUN!”

“Humans?” Crimson repeats in confusion.

“RRAUGH!” “GRAAAH!”

Dahlia and Crimson sprint through the darkness, shoving through an indiscernible amount of humans that reach and claw at them. They shriek and yell as they attempt to detain the two invaders running through their cave.

“Ack!” Dahlia falls, getting dragged back a few feet. “Let! Go!” she kicks and squirms against the grubby hand that came from the darkness and caught her right hindleg.

Crimson suddenly stops in place at the sound of her distress, freezing completely.

...

"Embrace what you are, and what you stand for."

- "Shield, protect, survive."

-- "For their life... you give your own."

...

“Let go!” Dahlia calls again, flailing around blindly in an attempt to get free.

His head snaps to the sound of Dahlia’s voice like a sentry. His body starts moving, but his mind isn't thinking. Something usurps his senses like an overbearing tide flooding his soul. His knees bend, and he springs himself up like a wound up coil towards the direction of Dahlia’s voice. He tucks his head down and rears up his left shoulder, blindly crashing into the perpetrator that was detaining the mare. A right proper guess. The human that held Dahlia is propelled back, smashing into the cave wall with a loud whine. Crimson lands on both feet, and his body starts to feel terribly tense.

“Crimson?” Dahlia utters in the blackness.

“Run!” he shouts back. “Grh!” he feels something jump onto his back, sinking jagged and unkempt teeth into his right trapezius.

“C… Crimson?” Dahlia asks again, her voice coming from the same location.

“Run, Deedee, MOVE!” Crimson’s deep, scratchy voice vibrates through the inside of the cave, further angering the humans.

Dahlia lets out a gasp, scurrying to her hooves. Her late reaction causes her to be clutched again. Another hand reaches from the darkness and grabs her tail, but she quickly bucks with both hindlegs to kick something rather squishy. “AARAAAH!” the human shrieks in pain.

As Dahlia sprints through the cave, stepping over humans and uneven ground, she hears Crimson behind her, still fighting and shoving. Once outside, she fixes her gaze back to the inside of the cave. She stares at Crimson's silhouette in the darkness, admiring his glowing--

“RAUGH!”

“Ick!” Dahlia spreads her wings to take off, but she is too late, as a human jumps at her from behind a forest tree and grappled her. “Grrh, damn it! You—piece of—gick!” Dahlia’s eyes dilate as she screams out in pain. The human sinks its nails into her chest and bites down on her shirt collar.

Crimson’s head snaps to the outside of the cave. His rigid stare focuses on the mare being attacked. Humans take advantage of his stillness to grasp and scratch him. His blood begins to boil with an overwhelming urge to defend her. He thrashes around violently, tossing the human off his back and bashing other humans surrounding him as if they were weightless. His knees bend again, kicking him into a steam-train sprint. His eyes are dilating to pin pricks, the world melting around him save for one piece, Dahlia.

“Rrk! Rrrrh!” Crimson sounds through his teeth, trudging through humans that grasp and scratch at him as he runs. He completely disregards his own safety, pushing his body to march towards the struggling pony. He suddenly stops on a dime and bends his knees, springing forward with more force than before. “Mrk!” he grunts in pain, the leap he had taken overexerted his muscles to the point of shocking discomfort, but it accomplishes its directive. He soars out of the cave, gliding in the air. His jump was unnaturally powerful, enough to shoot him like a dart.

Time seems to slow down, his squinting eyes focus on the human attacking Dahlia. Everything moves at a fraction of regular speed. He soars slowly, extending his right hand out and opening his hand in a claw-like fashion... then, time resumes like normal, and his hand grasps the human biting Dahlia on his forehead. He collides into the human, using his arm as a piston to smash the human’s head into the same tree he pounced out of.

Dahlia falls onto the ground, panting. The human slumps over, more than likely unconscious. Or dead.

Crimson is quick to pick up Dahlia in both arms, darting away in a random direction. Dahlia’s wincing and discombobulated self looks at the man as he carries her. Her mind is stumped at what she is now feeling while being carried by him. He holds her firmly and comfortably, despite sprinting and leaping over shrubs. The act of being carried isn't what's causing her confusion, but it is the sudden sensation taking hold of her body like a warm blanket. She's strangely relaxed, she feels... safe.

… She stares into his eyes, the world around her is unfocused except for his face. Crimson is sprinting like a machine, panting, bruised and bleeding, but showing no signs of stopping. Behind them, humans are heard screeching and writhing, but they soon become distant.

Crimson finally stops, heaving and sweating. The two are a mess, but especially him. He falls to his knees, setting Dahlia down on the forest dirt. He slouches and hangs his head as he catches his breath.

The tan mare feels the relaxing sensation disperse instantly upon being let go, and the stress and weight of what just happened returns to her. She furrows her brows, giving the man an angry but insecure gawking. “… Y… You didn’t have to carry me like that, you know. I am fully capable of running and flying,” she says defensively, fixing her shirt collar.

Crimson doesn’t bother replying just yet, still taking deep breaths to restore much needed oxygen into his body. ... Dahlia analyzes his messy, exhausted state, and her angry facade fails to maintain itself. Worry takes her expression, and she moves a step closer to the man. As soon as she is about to open her mouth, he speaks up, “What the hell… was that... Dahlia?” he interrogates, lifting his head up to eye her sternly.

Dahlia's expression jumps, then she squint lividly, “What do you mean, ‘what the hell’?”

“You got grabbed. Twice. Why were you so clumsy? What happened to the seasoned escape artist back there?”

“Ah--! It--!" Her face becomes terribly flustered. "... YOU! You distracted me! It was YOUR fault!” she raises her voice enough to ring his ears uncomfortably.

“’N how in the hell did ‘I’ distract you?”

“YOU-- … You-- you did… something! With your eyes!” Dahlia stammers.

“My eyes?"

“Don’t act stupid! Your eyes did a—a-- … a glowy thing!”

Crimson looks at her like she’s absolutely mental.

“You know what I’m talking about! You should know! YOU did it!” Dahlia leans into Crimson’s face. His resting position leaves him at eye-level with the heated pony, and they bitterly eye one-another as their noses nearly press together.

“I seriously don’t fuckin’ know what you’re goin’ on about. Glowy thing?”

Dahlia sighs and backs away, letting out an exaggerated grunt of annoyance. “Your eyes! They did a glowy thing! They started glowing in the cave. Then when you saved me outside the cave. … And when you started running. They were glowing golden or something,” Dahlia grits, staring into Crimson’s normal, hazel eyes as they currently are. Her confusion becomes prominent when the man's tired globes stare back at her, failing to perform any action she is attempting to describe.

Crimson looks terribly confused and aggravated, but remains silent. Dahlia shakes her head, letting her ears fall. “… Whatever, keep your secrets. Not like you’re gonna be around for much longer anyway,” she mumbles, her voice lowering while looking away from his slouched form.

“I actually don’t know what yer talkin’ about, Deedee. I don’t know anything about ‘glowy eyes.' Maybe you were seein' things.”

“… Just drop it,” she sighs. Both of them look away from each other, unspeaking. The sounds of nature swallow the conversation. They remain to themselves in order to think, but fail to actually think of anything. They both stare at the ground, feeling awkward tension building.

Fortunately, it does not last long. Dahlia’s eyes suddenly beam and her ears stand straight. She reaches into her shirt pocket with a forming smile. “Hehe, at least we got this bad boy~” she says, staring at the orange orb she’s now holding in her hoof.

Crimson looks at it, still lacking any motivation to react.

“… Well, let’s start heading back. Sun’s gonna dip soon,” she notes while pocketing the relic again.

Crimson looks at the sky through the dense forest. It’s orange and amber, the beautiful painting that is the atmosphere. He rises to his feet once Dahlia starts to move. His bones pop and he grunts, feeling his body complain about the abuse it just took. They trek back to the lodge, uttering no words for the whole walk.

With Dahlia’s self-proclaimed star sense of direction, they trek through the forest and trip back to the front of the temple to retrieve Dahlia’s saddlebags, then head back to her lodge after.

The duo cross the stone path over the steadily flowing river that lies just past the forestry, walking up the porch and finally entering the lodge. Dahlia huffs some stress and exhaustion out, letting her saddlebags fall onto the ground next to the door. She walks off immediately towards the restroom, and Crimson moves over to the stool where he ate breakfast, sitting on it backwards and resting his elbows on the counter top. Shortly after, Dahlia returns with a clean white cloth and an unlabeled bottle, and being that the man is familiar with this combination of articles, he already knows the next step… treat the wounds.

“C’mere,” Dahlia calls, looking at Crimson. He exhales, just now getting comfortable on the stool. He rises reluctantly and walks over to her. “Take your shirt off," she points to the brown torn-up rag that covers parts of his torso. "Was there anywhere else you got got?”

“Nah, just above the waist luckily,” he replies, tossing his ragged, bloody shirt on the ground. He crouches down, getting on one knee and letting his arms drop to his sides. Dahlia uncaps the bottle, using her wings to methodically tilt it against the cloth to get it soaked.

“Don’t cry now,” Dahlia grins, pressing the cloth against the many scratches that paint Crimson’s arms and neck.

“Try not to enjoy feelin' me up too much.”

Dahlia pretends to gag, slapping one of his scratches with the cloth as a sign of displeasure. Crimson grunts and closes his eyes, letting the pain run its course, feeling his wounds sizzle like eggs under a desert sun. Dahlia glances at his eyes, they remain closed as she tends to him. She keeps looking at them, hoping they pry open at some point to show her what she wants to see. ... She pouts slightly, continuing to clean his wounds.

Crimson puckers his lips when she cleans the gnarly bite on his right trapezius. The alcohol works itself deep into the damaged tissue, killing the bad bacteria, but unfortunately, eliminating the good ones too.

“There, that’s all of ‘em,” Dahlia announces, holding the bottle and cloth out for Crimson. "There were a lot more scratches on you than I expected. You're really bad at taking care of yourself."

"Says you."

"Here," Dahlia shakes the bottle and cloth, asserting again that she wants to give them to him.

He takes them into his hands, and Dahlia moves to take off her shirt. “… What’re you doin’?”

“What does it look like? I’m taking off my clothes so you can clean my wounds now. Talk about not getting the hint,” Dahlia rolls her eyes as she drops her blood-stained, dirty shirt on the wooden floor.

“But you ain’t got any wounds,” he states as he scans his eyes across her chest and neck.

“What? Are you blind? I got bit like right-- …” Dahlia looks down at her chest, puffing it out for display. Her muzzle scrunches from bewilderment, seeing her body undamaged where she was previously injured. “I… I got bit right here. I know I did. That human dug his nails into my neck and bit me.”

Crimson sees some scarred, yet already healing skin on Dahlia’s chest and neck where she was attacked. The fur from those spots is ruffled or gone and needs to grow back, so it is apparent she did get hurt. Crimson sets the bottle and cloth down, then reaches out towards Dahlia’s chest, touching the healing skin gently. No bleeding, no internally exposed flesh. Dahlia moves her eyes away from him, her ears rest flat when touched by his hand.

She feels it again, that same relaxation from before. That sense of ease. It returns when he makes physical contact with her, but it fades when he retracts his fingers. The soothing warmth escapes once again.

“Well this certainly means somethin’,” Crimson declares, holding his chin. “You were just makin’ excuses and didn’t actually get hurt at all in that exchange.”

“WHAT!?” Dahlia presses her muzzle against his nose, her bright magenta eyes burning with fury.

Crimson smiles and rears his head back a bit, "Woho, simmer down. Was just pressin' yer buttons." Dahlia huffs some air onto his face through her nose, still very upset at the sudden prodding. The man looks at her fading wounds again with a more serious air. “I know you aren’t lyin’ cuz yer shirt’s got blood on it, blood exactly where that bastard bit you.”

Dahlia visibly calms down and her eyes drop to the ground, down at her shirt. Her mind doesn't find a place to rest, it frantically jumps around the room with nothing to hold it down. “… This is all so weird,” she trails off, moving her eyes towards the relic that rolled out a few inches from her shirt pocket. She contemplates something in her head before letting it come out of her mouth, "... Y'know, you were pretty chill about everything that was happening back there."

"... Chill?" he tilts his head at the odd lingo.

"Yeah, y'know? Like, relaxed? Unfazed? Those humans were really ripping at you, and you didn't even care. You just came for me instead."

"F'course. You were in danger."

"Don't give me that. You were too."

"I couldn't stand there 'n let you get mauled."

Dahlia's brows furrow as she lifts her gaze to meet his. "You literally just met me."

He nods, raising his left brow to indicate her lack of a substantial argument.

Dahlia huffs out in frustration, "How are you so calm about this? Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, who meets someone and nearly kills themselves trying to help them? ... What's your agenda?"

"You want me to answer yer questions honestly or where they rhetorical?"

"..." Dahlia doesn't respond to his counter-question, opting to look away from him instead.

Seeing as she doesn't come up with an answer, he does it for her. "I've spent my entire life stressin' out about bullshit, so learnin' to remain calm was a skill I had to learn early on in my life. I don't let things that would bother other people bother me anymore, I certainly wouldn't be here today if I did. ... As for your second question, I wouldn't call helping someone who's in life-threatening danger an act of kindness, I would call it savin' someone's life, somethin' that should be done regardless of care for that person. Whether the act was done kindly is another debate entirely. For yer third question, me. That's who. ... And what's with the last question? What're you even gettin' at? 'What's my agenda'?"

"Self-explanatory question," Dahlia remarks harshly.

"If it was as black 'n white as you're makin' it out to be, I wouldn't have felt the need to ask you for clarification."

"Huugh," she exaggerates a groan. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"Be great if you did."

"... I know your kind," Dahlia turns herself a bit, giving him her left side.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I would care. Your kind is the kind I hate the most. The nice guys. The ones that try too hard to please just to get something out of you. The ones that make it seem like they're on your side so they can turn around, pull you down, and push themselves up when it matters most."

Crimson leans forward, "... You're accusin' me of being this type of person on what basis?"

"I'm not stupid. You've killed before. I'm sure you lived a dirty life. No one goes through a situation like you just did and walks away from it without a second thought, unless they've lived a dirty life. And judging by your attitude, you fit the bill. At least lions make it abundantly clear they wanna eat you before they do."

"I knew someone just like yer describin'. Trust me when I say, I'll never be like him. ... I can explain everythin' in full detail if that's what it'll take to convince you I'm not what you assume I am."

"Like explaining everything would make a difference. You'd probably lie, just like they all do."

"Deedee, I don't have an agenda. I saved you back there because you were in danger, because you saved me from dyin' like a stray animal yesterday, and because you're willin' to take a gamble on me by lettin' me tag around. You could have just let me wander off, letting me do god-knows-what until I got completely lost. But you didn't, you decided to help me out. I may have just met you, but that don't mean I can't care fer you."

Dahlia remains hardened, finding something interesting to look out outside of the window instead.

"... My dad 'n my brother died when I was young, 'n my mother died just before my eighteenth birthday. Once you're able to get over somethin' like that, other shit just comes across as trivial. Maybe I am a little too 'chill' on certain matters, but that's just how it goes. I don't mean it to bother you none. I killed people because of a corrupt gang my family had ties to. I never joined them, and their vendetta against my family caused me to kill my first man. I don't take pride in having ended peoples' lives, even if the people I killed were scum."

The tan mare continues to keep her mouth closed, but Crimson can tell she's actively listening. "... Deedee." Her magenta orbs move to meet his, but then move away shortly after. "You seem oddly familiar with 'my type.' The conniving, back-stabbin' type. I've got a sneakin' suspicion that you weren't always the way you are now, just like me. Maybe yer past was rough, just like mine. ... If there's anythin' you want to talk about, I'm more than willing to listen. ... I know too well how another set of ears to listen to your problems can do wonders for the soul."

She squints, her expression mixes oddly between being bothered and being solemn. Her mouth opens to say something, but it re-closes without uttering a word.

"... How was it like growin' up fer you, Deedee? What was your family like?"

She stays quiet for a moment, leaving both of them to brew in a heavy silence. “... I don't want to talk about it.”

"... If you ever do, I'm here to listen, Deedee."

"I won't. Just forget about it, okay?" she fixes her bitter eyes onto his.

"... Yeah. If that's what you want."

"... Good, because we're going to need to be focused. We've got a big day tomorrow," the tone of her voice actively becomes more lively and usual.

“Game plan already made?”

“Yup. We’re heading to fancy-land Canterlot tomorrow, home of the snobs and asses, and I'm not talking about the donkeys. We’re going there to get some info and hopefully find a buyer for the relic. An egghead there will probably take it off my hooves, they're suckers for these types of things.”

Crimson nods in acknowledgement, simply taking her lead. Dahlia spreads her wings and flaps them, giving them a little stretch before explaining further. He looks at her wings as they splay out to their full length. They're perfectly preened and oddly beautiful. The fact that these feathered appendages are attached to a pony is wild, but it feels like they fit her perfectly.

“We’ll be up just before sunrise to head to the upper junction. The train station is there, and that train only makes two trips down here every day. We aren’t waiting till the evening to catch the train. Got it?”

“Sure,” Crimson replies, getting up onto his feet. “So, eh, any place I can get a shower’r somethin’?”

“Don't got one in here. Just take a dip in that river for a bit. T’s what I do,” she shrugs casually.

“Mm, so that's why you smell so weird,” Crimson rubs his brow.

Dahlia hits his thigh with a bit of force behind it as she passes by him to head towards the restroom, getting a smirk from her verbal oppressor. Crimson makes his own path towards the front door, stepping out and stripping down for his nature-bath.

Crimson returns inside after air-drying for half an hour, getting his shorts and flip-flops on as he stammers up the porch, guided by the shine of moonlight.

Dahlia had joined him briefly in the river bath, but announced she was too tired to stay in for very long. She didn't speak much when she was there, and she had retreated to the lodge much before him.

He opens the door, finger-combing his hair back to add some semblance of appearance to his form. He sees the little tan mare, her mane and tail a scraggly mess, asleep on the big couch. She lies down, her body forming a half-moon as her chin rests just before the cushion’s edge. An actual, normal horse position for once... well, at least one he's familiar with.

Seeing as the only resting place fit enough for him has been taken, and he doesn't want to invade her bed, he walks over to the small coffee table that’s propped in the middle of the living room, getting down and lying next to it. He can’t see Dahlia from this position, so the next best thing is the ceiling. He stares at it, as he himself is splayed out on the wooden floor. His eyes slowly close, feeling heavier and heavier every passing second. He probably won't get very good sleep, but at least he can try.

…

"... I miss you so much..."

...

Dahlia’s eyes slowly flutter open. She sits up, rubbing her eyes with her hoof and letting out a yawn.

“Sleep well?”

“Nh?” Dahlia looks towards the voice. Crimson sits on the single-cushion couch, barely fitting in it. “Nh,” she lets out a yawn. "You’re up early. ..." Her brows raise in mild surprise. "Huh. Or by the looks of it, you didn’t even sleep at all.”

Crimson blinks slowly, “It’s that obvious?”

“Very. I sure hope you don’t pass out on me while we’re on the move. Last thing I need is to drag you around for several more miles. No thank you,” she shakes her head, swinging her hoof with it. Once she returns her gaze to him, a more sympathetic energy takes her expression, "You look awful, Crim. Seriously. Are you okay?"

“Don’t worry about me,” he assures, standing up and stretching his back. He throws his hand over his mouth as it falls agape for a big yawn, "Ah be fahn.”

Dahlia hops off the couch, throwing her flank into the air and flicking her tail as she too stretches her back. With some bones popping, she wiggles her body and stands up straight, exhaling deeply through her nose. Her eyes glance quickly to the man, who has his orbs plastered on her stretching figure. “… Staring is rude, you know.”

Crimson removes his eyes off her, his direction finding something interesting on the wall. “My eyes just-so-happened to be restin' on you.”

“Ch, yeah right. Typical humans,” Dahlia shakes her head and she struts towards the kitchen, getting her saddlebags when she passes by the front door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart guy right? Figure it out,” she smirks, packing some things into the bags from the preserving bin.

The man shrugs and blows her prodding off. Upon getting her items situated, she tosses her saddlebags onto her back and trots to the front door. She’s got her shirt back on, cleaned from blood and dirt. She takes the collar left on the floor into her mouth and stands before Crimson. She hops onto her hindlegs, with her forelegs planted on his abdomen. It appears she's comfortable doing it this way again.

“Should I get my shirt back on first?” Crimson asks, looking down at his bare chest.

Dahlia doesn’t answer immediately. She straps the collar on and sets it firmly. “No time. Shorts and flip-flops. All you need. Besides, you look better without it on anyway,” Dahlia comments as she hops off him and opens the door, walking out quickly so she doesn't have to deal with any potential replies from the man.

“… Was that a compliment?”

The two make their trek to Dodge through the forest path. It’s still quite dark out as the sun barely peeks its head over the east horizon. Once they make it out of the forest, Dahlia leads Crimson along the unfinished railroad track north a-ways. He sees a small train station out in the distance. Once they make it to the station, the sun has poked itself over the horizon. Dahlia walks with the leash in her hoof, standing before the ticketpony who’s half asleep inside the kiosk. She reaches into her shirt pocket and slides what seems to be four gold coins into the kiosk slot.

“One adult and one pet,” she says firmly.

The ticket pony looks towards Crimson, raising an eyebrow in an uninterested manner. His look changes to one of skepticism and surprise upon getting a better look at him.

“… Ahem?” Dahlia sounds impatiently.

The ticket pony’s eyes widen in realization, removing his awestruck eyes from the towering human. He reaches down, taking two tickets from under and passing them through the same slot. Dahlia takes them with a smile, walking with Crimson towards the edge of the platform.

“Right on schedule,” Dahlia whispers.

Crimson looks off to his left to see an oddly shaped train bouncing up and down ridiculously, approaching at a high speed. Once it nears the station, it slows down until it comes to a halt, stopping with a loud steam-exhausting whine. The doors open, and a well-dressed unicorn mare, quite attractive in appearance, stands at the entrance. Dahlia walks in, giving her the two tickets. The mare takes them with her magic, ripping them both in half and pocketing them. She nods, signaling entrance to Dahlia and whatever pet she has. The mare couldn’t see what the leash held from where she was standing, so once Dahlia enters and Crimson looms in from behind, the attendant’s eyes shoot open, taking some steps back.

Crimson stands there, looking at her in silence with his mute face.

“… E-Ehehehe. G-… G-Good human?” the mare's quivering voice fits her trembling body perfectly.

Crimson simply stands there, gawking like a mindless animal. He moves when the collar is tugged lightly, turning left and walking along with Dahlia.

“Can you not do that?" she whispers scoldingly.

He blinks slowly in response.

"I don’t care how much fun it is, don’t be doing that." Dahlia moves to the very front of the train cart. There appears to be no pony else around except an ancient looking stallion who's asleep, or even dead, right next to the boarding door. Probably not dead. But everything else is up for grabs. Dahlia points for Crimson to sit down first. He does so, taking the window seat and looking out to the odd desert and forest combination just outside. Dahlia moves in and sits next to him, taking the outer seat. Their sides press against each other, Crimson being too big just for his side of the seat.

A moment of silence passes, and the train whistle choos off. The train slowly starts to move again, taking a wide U-turn in the tracks ahead to turn around and head towards the north of Equestria.

Crimson’s eyes feel heavy again. Hardly being able to sleep last night, he takes this as a perfect opportunity to catch up on it. He rests his head against the window, closing his eyes. He assumes Dahlia will just wake him up if anything happens...

Crimson slowly blinks his eyes open, returning from his slumber. They shift around before his head does, keeping himself still as to not disturb the weight he feels on his left arm. He turns his head over to see Dahlia sleeping like a baby, resting her head against his side. Her mouth is slightly agape, and her silver and black mane plasters messily against his bicep and triceps, tickling his skin whenever she gently rocks due to the train's movements.

He blinks the tiredness out of his eyes, remaining still so she sleeps as comfortably as possible. He stares at her sleeping form subconsciously, admiring her features from so close up. She's a whole lot more innocent and adorable when she isn't belittling him every other sentence. He can't find it in himself to blame her though, she's probably been through a lot. He knows what it's like to have a shitty upbringing, so it's easy to see past her harsh banter. Someone who had a gifted and healthy childhood would certainly not resort to a wandering, pilfering lifestyle. ... It's just a shame that she's keeping the weight on herself, rather than letting someone help her with it. But pushing her to open herself up will only cause problems, and he knows that from experience.

Crimson twists his neck in an uncomfortable fashion to look around, keeping the pillow that is his body very still. He sees that quite a bit of other ponies have boarded the train as the ride has gone on. He also notices that they have decided to sit a good distance away from where he and Dahlia sit, which is typical, he supposes. He turns his head forward, looking out the window he sits next to. He doesn’t get to see much from this side, but from what he can see, the train is chugging up the side of a mountain, increasing in elevation as it continues. He looks to his left, to the windows on the other side of the cart. His eyes widen a little when he catches glimpse of the view. From this vantage point, he can see for miles and miles. He can see little towns and villages, and even some bigger cities way out in the distance. Natural spectacles draw his attention as well, such as huge mountains that touch the heavens all over Equestria, bodies of water, swamps, forests, and some creepy looking place to the south. He also spots a rainbow marvel that lies to the west, appearing to be a waterfall of pure rainbow liquid. There are also many grasslands, fields, some marshes, and a huge—

... He looks at it in disdain... a desert. Having had his fair share of deserts already, he quickly looks elsewhere, away from the arid chunk of land.

The train continues along its path. The side of the mountain gives way to reveal a huge city, made of marble and gold. Crimson’s brows rise from further impression, his eyes glint at the sight of this place. Even if he wanted to speak out loud, he couldn’t. The sheer majesty of this land, the towering buildings and the beautiful structures, it steals the breath from in him. As the train approaches the station of this city, he looks down at Dahlia, shaking her gently for her to wake up.

“Mmn… stop… moving so much,” she mumbles quietly. Crimson’s brows furrow a little and he shakes her harder. “Rrh! Whaaat?” her eyes barely open as she turns her head up to gawk at him. He motions with his head towards the window, a small smile trying to make itself onto his face. “Ugh, we’re already here? … I hate this place,” she mutters, rubbing her eyes adorably with her hooves.

Crimson seems confused at her reaction, not understanding what’s so bad about Canterlot. It's beautiful and clean with nothing obvious to dislike, but he is in no position to ask for details at the moment. The train comes to a halt, steaming in a deflating manner, allowing the boarding door to open safely. Dahlia yawns and hops off her seat, taking the leash into her left hoof. Crimson scoots over and stands up, assuming his now-usual spot behind her.

As soon as the human rises, every single eye in the cart shoots towards him. The ponies in the cart freeze, wide-eyed and tense. Dahlia hardly acknowledges the crowd, simply walking past them. The man follows behind her, his eyes slowly shifting through every pony’s judgmental gaze. They clear a path for Dahlia as she walks, ponies stepping on each other’s hooves and tails just to get out of the lumbering monster’s way.

The two exit the cart, left to Dahlia's lead. The ponies around, inside the cart and those standing at the station's platform, finally start exiting and entering the cart once the potential danger has cleared.

Crimson isn't sure where Dahlia is taking him, and he probably should have asked her before coming here, but he trusts in her judgement. Where ever it is she's taking them, it's probably a good idea... hopefully. He doesn't think about it too much as he is even more taken aback when standing inside the city of Canterlot. The elevation does make this place a little chillier, but it's nothing his shirtlessness can't handle.

His flip-flops clap smoothly along the perfectly waxed marble floor, and the structures make even the tallest of men feel insignificant. He is almost overwhelmed by the pure existence of a place like this, he's definitely not on Earth right now. He sees that there are many ponies around, walking about with their chins high, dressed in really fancy attire with quaffed and primped manes. They look kind of ridiculous, but that's to be expected from a high-class environment.

Crimson hears some shouting going off in some distant part of the city. Dahlia hears this too, her eyes locked onto the direction of where it seems to be coming from. Whatever the noise is, Dahlia appears to be interested. Many large, expansive marble staircases and roads later, Dahlia leads them to the ruckus. A crowd of ponies is standing around the front gate entrance to a structure that would only exist in a fairy tale.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any more impressive, he looks upwards, along the length of a massive, sky-piercing castle of sorts. It trumps everything else in Canterlot, in terms of structure and sheer majesty. It is protected by a tall border of high-tower walls that span quite an extensive perimeter, with enough land on the inside to form its own mini-city.

“Uh oh,” Dahlia suddenly whispers.

Crimson’s stargazing is halted, focusing down on Dahlia. It doesn’t take a second glance to find out what she's worried about. Just ahead, near the large front gate of this castle’s walls, is a massive formation. They appear to be humans, chained up and aligned with one another. The man's brows furrow incredulously at the sight, but like everything else that he's had a hard time trying to believe, it’s right there, he is seeing it with his own two eyes. Some regal ponies in golden armor stand around this formation, along with a few finely dressed ponies in some sort of suit uniform.

But the formation wasn't what Dahlia was worried about, it was the two pony guards in silver armor that are approaching them. They look angry and serious, giving them a no-nonsense air. Dahlia’s eyes grow wide as she turns to her right and tries to walk away with Crimson, pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary.

“HALT!” shouts one of the guards.

“Shit…” Dahlia utters.

“You there. Do you have your documentation for the human?” asks the second guard.

“I, uh, yeah. I just don't have it on me right now,” Dahlia shrugs innocently.

“Ma’am, law dictates that humans should never be brought into a public space without holding proper documentation at all times," the first guard states. "This is a serious violation, and a hazard to the citizens of Canterlot.”

“I know! But I take him out for walks all the time! The first time I forget to bring my papers is the day I get stopped. What gives?”

The guards look at each other for a second, then back to Dahlia. “We are confiscating the human, ma’am,” the first guard says as they both approach Crimson.

“NO! No! You can’t!” she cries, backing her flank into Crimson's leg defensively.

Crimson looks down at her, hiding his surprise. This odd posture that she has for him, the type of posture which signals that she might actually care for him to some degree, breathes to him a pleasant and heartwarming air.

It probably doesn't help her case here though, since the guards only seem to get more annoyed at her defiance, but she continues to find excuses. “He gets angry when I'm not around, and he only likes to listen to me! Trust me, I’ve tried to get him trained with other ponies, zero luck. Every time.” Dahlia looks at Crimson with a phony smile, then back at the guards.

“… Ma’am, you should be happy we’re not fining you for breaking the law," the second guard says in a harsh, pissy manner. "If you would like a fine and time in the city jail, then persist on obstructing justice. The human. Comes. With us.”

“No, please! He’ll attack you if you take him!” Dahlia shouts desperately, getting some eyes from gathering spectators. Her voice and the amount of emotion in her eyes and is confusing Crimson, it presents a complete contrast to how she's been acting for the past few days he's been with her.

He's having a difficult time simply standing there and doing nothing, he wants to help her, but he knows it's a death-sentence for him and possibly Dahlia if he tries to pull anything rash. There are too many witnesses, too many guards, and little places to run.

During Crimson's internal struggle, the guards stare at each other again. One of them reaches down into a pouch on his belly and takes out a hoof-sized purple spray bottle of sorts, then he rears it up and sprays Crimson in the face with it.

“Kh!—” his eyes squint, and he enters a coughing fit.

Dahlia gasps, her eyes beam in horror. She then directs a furious gaze to the guards. “WHAT did you DO!?”

“Neutralizing potion, ma’am," the second guard states cockily. "His cognitive senses are now relaxed and he poses no threat to any ponies around.”

Dahlia looks at Crimson with dread in her eyes. After the coughing fit ends, the man begins to slowly rock left and right, blinking his eyes unevenly.

“Now I suggest giving the human over, or we will be forced to take action against you,” the first guard threatens.

Dahlia looks lost, staring up at her discombobulated human. From the look on his face, his mind is probably in some other dimension. The guards suddenly snatch the collar that Dahlia was holding, turning and walking away towards the formation. Crimson gets pulled with the leash, staggering forward and barely keeping his balance.

“HEY! Don’t you--! Rrrrrh!” Dahlia tries to follow but is suddenly suspended with magic.

One of the guards has frozen her, moving her back a few paces and dropping her onto the ground. “One more interference from you, and it won't be the city jail, it'll be the Canterlot dungeon. Now move along,” the first guard threatens again. The second guard is already walking away with the man, melding him into the formation. Crimson attempts to look back and glance at Dahlia, making contact with her wide, glistening desperate eyes. Her mouth hangs, she looks completely lost... she looks mortified...

The potion sprayed into Crimson's face begins to contort his world wildly. His critical thinking skills drop to nearly zero, and his cognitive functions are barely intact. He is taken and planted onto the left side of the formation, the side closest to the large walls of the castle. He looks around in hazy confusion, eyes half-open and brows raised, eyeing the other humans that surround him.

“ALL HAIL!” a guard shouts.

Crimson looks around lazily as every visible pony in sight bows in a weird manner, and even the humans bow down on one knee. The red-haired man stands there like a sore thumb, to which a guard hastily trots behind him and bashes him in the back of his knee with their hoof. The man grunts angrily and stumbles onto one knee, looking back, gawking at the guard who had caused this inconvenience. The guard stares back, giving a hard-ass, ‘what-are-you-looking-at’ stare in return, but Crimson isn't giving him any sort of victory. His eyes dilate like a rabid animal, and a big, toothy smirk takes his face for a split second.

The guard’s eyes shoot wide open, startled as if he just witnessed some sort of eldritch nightmare. He suspends his belief briefly, shaking his head and looking back towards the smirking human... only to find him not smirking at all. The red-haired creature only stares back with a dumb, expressionless look. The guard swallows a lump in his throat, taking a step back and looking away to something else.

The gates of this huge castle wall complain loudly as they start to rise, and the heavy silver chains rattle while they ascend. Crimson picks his head up, staring with half-lidded eyes to the cause of this commotion. Many guards in golden and silver armor come out of the gate, leading…

Crimson's droopy eyes widen slightly. A tall, snow white pony with wings and a horn is marching promptly out of the archway. Her mane and tail flow as if wind was constantly blowing on them, and they are solid, reflective, shiny pink. Her ass has a large sun tattooed on it, just like Dahlia has a compass with a wing in the middle of it tattooed onto her ass.

Crimson witnesses an exchange happening. One of the stallions in the fancy suited uniforms is talking to this pony queen. Well, it's more like the queen is talking gently and the stallion is quivering in fear like a soggy noodle. After some words, the queen pony turns and starts to walk slowly down the isle from the left side of the formation. She appears to be selecting humans, and the humans that are picked are immediately unchained and lifted with magic by a guard to another, new formation. She seems to be making only a few, very choice selections.

After a faint realization hits, Crimson ducks his head down and tries to keep a low profile. He doesn't want to get picked.

“I do think that is all of them,” the queen's regal, feminine voice suddenly says a few feet away from Crimson’s ears. Before the man mires in his own success, the tall queen speaks again, “except… for one more.”

Crimson’s eyes dilate. He feels something cool and hard touch his shoulder.

“Major, you may take the selected humans to the recreational center,” the tall queen says. One of the guards in different, purple and black armor salutes and blows a whistle. Several silver guards follow him and lead the humans into the castle walls. The slipper made of hard gold still remains on Crimson's shoulder, he can feel his blood going cold. The queen smiles, leaning down murmuring into his ear, "this one is… mine.”

Crimson's body begins to tickle and weigh nothing, causing him to raise his head and look around wildly. He sees he’s encompassed with yellow-golden magic, floating just above the formation of humans. The source is the pony queen, drawing energy from her long pointy horn to levitate him. The mixture of the potion used on him in addition to being man-handled by an immaterial force nearly causes him to throw up.

“Y-Yes, of course, princess Celestia. T-Take him,” the suited stallion she was first making business with stammers. Crimson isn't sure why he's being such a push-over to the queen, but it can be assumed that the stallion doesn’t really have any say in the matter. This pony ‘princess’ could probably do whatever she liked, including taking whatever human she wanted... just like she's doing right now.

“Thank you, High Barter. You are dismissed,” the princess nods.

With that, the ponies around rise back up, along with every single human. Crimson looks around in his daze, trying to spot Dahlia. A massive crowd of ponies has amassed, he can’t tell who from what in the wave of colors. He squints, mouth hanging open slightly while forcing his brain to function at a passable level.

Pfrr!

The world around Crimson distorts madly for a split second, a new environment suddenly taking the place of the previous one. The man was magically teleported by Celestia into a large, tall-ceiling loft inside the Canterlot castle. Crimson looks around, completely lost mentally and directionally.

“Don’t be scared now, my little human. You’re in good hooves,” the princess coos in such a motherly manner. She says little human, but she needs to tilt her head up a small bit to stare into his eyes. Her magic envelops the grimy faded green collar currently around Crimson’s neck, undoing it without an ounce of effort. She takes it off and blinks it out of existence. Crimson's brows furrow as he tries to figure out how she did that, or where the collar was even sent. “Ooo, you’re perfect! I’m sure she will just love you. A perfect specimen for the perfect researcher," Celestia murmurs, blinking another collar into existence. This one is, just by looking at it, of much higher quality. It’s a light, easy blue with pink highlights, appearing kind of fuzzy. Celestia levitates it over and straps it onto Crimson’s neck. It indeed feels very snug and comfortable, much better than the old collar that Dahlia bought. ...

... Dahlia...

Celestia picks up the blue leash with her magic, beginning her trot towards a purple door that’s guarded by two ponies in armor. Crimson walks with her automatically, his body going into auto-pilot. The two guards open the large door for the princess and close it behind them once they pass. They enter a huge, luxurious hallway. The left side of the hall has many doors of all shapes and sizes. The right side has tall, beautiful stain glass windows with all sorts of stories marked onto them.

“I wonder where the Grey Company found you. You’re extraordinary, do you know that?” Celestia says as she slows down to walk along side Crimson. “Even since humans were first found in Equestria, I’ve never seen anything like you,” Celestia smiles, having to look up a little to stare into the man's eyes.

Crimson's too distracted to pay attention to what she's saying, looking at the beautiful architecture that decorates the inside of the castle. He is mainly attracted to the stain-glass windows that line the right side of this long hall they are walking through.

“With your baffling height and pristinely kept form. You’re even shaved! Mm, well I do see a little stubble growing back, but you are so wonderfully kept. I’m almost a little jealous you aren’t meant for me~” Celestia says with half-lidded eyes.

Crimson’s ape-brain thinks about the words Celestia speaks, but doesn't actually process them. She stops when the two almost reach the end of this massive, royal hallway. She halts in front of the last door on the left, which is a foggy, glass double door with a golden frame. The fog doesn’t allow one to peek inside. Celestia knocks twice, her golden shoe making a curious tap against the glass. She then opens the door with her magic, helping herself inside along with her leashed human.

Crimson peers through the moist mist and fog of this room to see where he is. The room they have entered is a spa bath house of some sort, and inside are three unicorns. They… look kind of the same. They have the same eyes, very similar mane and tail styles, but their colors are different. Their coats are all grey though. They are females of slightly different ages, where the two older mares are towel-drying two different humans. The mares are not old, but older in relation to one-another. One is light grey and cyan, the other is light grey and teal. The youngest mare, who is sitting on a white plastic chair with her legs tucked under herself while reading a magazine, is light grey and lavender. They’re very feminine and clean, and this entire room smells very pleasant.

The mares direct their gaze to the princess once she enters. They smile, closing their eyes and bowing with their heads.

“Iz gut to see you, princess Celes’cha!” the cyan one speaks up first.

“It’s good to see you, girls. I have one more for you,” Celestia says with a neutral smile, using her magic to drag Crimson forward into view.

The mares look at him, their eyes widening happily.

“Vaaoow! He’s so adorable!” the teal one says.

“I vould be honored, my princess!” the cyan one says.

The lavender one is quiet, only staring with her wide, purple eyes.

“Actually, Kiri,” Celestia looks at the cyan mare, “Keri,” she glances to the teal one, “you two should join me for lunch. I see that those humans I gave you are nice and clean.”

“A-Ah, v-vy yes, zey are! B-But I really do not mind! Cleaning zat human zea before lunch vould be fine!” Kiri says.

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Kiri, you two have earned a break. Your sister Kimi can take care of it. Isn’t that right, Kimi?” Celestia looks to the youngest mare, who was sitting there just reading. It's totally obvious that Kimi wanted the task of cleaning the man, but her underpowered nature always causes her sisters to triumph over her.

“Eee!” Kimi sits up straight with a smile that takes up her entire face, starstruck by the turn of events. “O-Of course, p-princess! I v-vould be honored!” her eyes beam, seemingly like they are going to pop out of their sockets.

“Take good care of him, Kimi, he’s a... special order,” Celestia winks.

With that, Celestia takes the two humans that were already here into her magic, blinking in collars that are less… amazing as Crimson’s, but they’re not exactly of shoddy quality. They are strapped on, and the humans seldom react to anything that’s happening to them. The two mares that were asked to lunch follow Celestia as she leaves this spa-esque room.

The two sisters snap their heads back just before they leave the room, gawking at their youngest sibling. They make a motion with their hooves that say “I’m watching you…”

The youngest sister furrows her brows, giving them an displeased look. The group exit the room, closing the glass doors behind them. Crimson is left alone in this misty, relaxing room with Kimi. He sniffs the scent of... peaches, possibly coming from the mare that's now standing right next to him. The little lavender and grey earth pony suddenly squees in happiness.

“Finally! I get to vurk on a beautiful human! It’s always my sisters zat get the good wans. My sisters neva share! But now Kimi gets to finally enjoy herself! Hooh, zank you so mach, Celes'cha!” She trots towards the man, staring up at him with a big smile. “Come, let us get zose clothes off!” she says, her horn glowing with soothing purple magic. First to come off was the collar with one easy click. Then, his shorts are undone and are slipped off, piling onto itself at his ankles. “Oo, oh my...” the mare’s eyes widen, staring exactly where you would expect, “you certainly are special.”

Crimson blinks lazily.

Kimi's face takes on a trepid blush that gives her light grey cheeks a tender color. She reaches over with her hoof, placing it on the back of Crimson’s knee. She presses in lightly, making his foot lift off the ground. She removes the shorts from under him along with the flip-flop on that foot, and then the same to the other leg, freeing him of his shorts and footwear.

He stands there completely barren, and she can’t help but glance at his soft-spot, over and over.

“… Hooh, it is difficult to vork in zis condition,” she says to herself, furrowing her brows. She takes Crimson’s right thumb into her lips, leading him towards one of the spa’s bathtubs. These tubs are elevated a few feet off the ground, surrounded by three feet of tile border to stand or sit on.

Kimi sits Crimson on the edge of the bathtub, his legs hanging off the side with feet flat on the ground. She watches him uncertainly, exhaling deeply against his hand while gazing at it dreamily. "... I undastand vy my sisters use humans for relief, yoa such a stunning specimen... but! No!" she looks away from him, "I mast be strong, this beautiful creature iz not mine, and it vould be wrong of me to take advantage of him!” she declares firmly, staring into Crimson’s blank, stargazing eyes. Her fortitude against her lust is quick to waver as her ears flop to her head and her orbs twinkle with a spark of desire. “… Oh, bat it is so tempting!”

Crimson’s eyes slowly trail their way to Kimi and he stares at her. His blank face demonstrates no hints or suggestions to the mare, leaving her to decide against her own ambitions.

“... Hooh, iz not fair! My sisters always get to have fun! They've neva let me do anyzing! Iz always, ‘nooo, Kimi, you cannot do dat! You are too young! Noo, Kimi, zat is not riiight! You cannot do zat to za humans!' Hypocrisy! Zey always play wiff ze humans! And I am a grown mare now! I hjate my sisters!” she looks at Crimson with her angry, self-loathing expression. As he stares back at her, the energy of her face slowly changes to that of shyness and timidity.

The blush enveloping her face deepens while her eyes trace the human's form from top to bottom. “… Y… You vould not… mind, vould you? I-I promise I am not like my sisters. I am no slut!” she huffs, keeping her gaze fixed on his face for some sort of approval. He only gawks mindlessly in return. “It vill be quick! I-I promise! Humans do not last very long, so it vill be quick. I-I vill do my best to make it feel enjoyable!" her shining eyes stare at his face, hoping that she gets a positive reaction from him.

He does nothing but stare back with half-lidded eyes, leaving his stance on the matter completely indecipherable.

She clears her throat, lowering her head, "... Please do not get violent wiff me.” She trots quickly towards the bath, walking up a small staircase that leads to the faucets. She turns on some warm water, and leaves it running to fill the bath. “It vill be quick, it vill be quick,” she repeats in a nervous yet heated state-of-mind. She walks over to Crimson’s front, looking up at him as he sits idly. She sighs wobbly, her heart beats heavily in her chest. She hops up, resting her forelegs on his knees. Her quivering lips approach his slightly opened mouth, pressing them against his. She tilts her head and locks in the kiss, and her tongue moves in for a quick venture, exploring the insides of the man's mouth. She unwillingly moans against his lips, flipping his tongue around using her own, since he’s not bothering to move it around himself.

After a minute of swashing with his saliva, she breaks the kiss, leaving a thin streak of passion on his lower lip. She smiles wryly, her breathing building in pace from the excitement. “It vill be quick,” she whispers through a breath, blown directly onto his face. She looks down, still standing on her hindlegs while using Crimson's thighs as support. She brings her left hoof over to his flaccid self, playing with it in an unsure manner. The experienced body would catch the greenness of this mare instantly, though the man seldom reacts to her awkward fondling. His eyes look forward, but fail to actually stare at anything.

Kimi gently pushes his limp penis left and right, watching it lazily flop over and fail to grow. Her eyes shimmer as she feels terribly embarrassed at herself, unsure of what exactly she's doing wrong. “Oooh, pleeease, please do not do zis to me…” her voice cracks quietly. The embarrassment of failing to stimulate him begins to clog her throat. ... But just then, her eyes beam open when a strike of inspiration hits her. “Oh! I know!” she smiles, retracting her hoof towards her chest. “I’ve… seen my sisters do dis, and it… seems to vork every time. … Please vork…”

Kimi brings her hoof down to her marehood, commencing to please herself. She closes her eyes and focuses on tending to herself, quietly moaning and resting her head on Crimson’s chest. The man continues looking forward, mostly enjoying the pleasant smell this gorgeous mare radiates.

“Mnn, mnnh,” her eyes close tightly, moaning behind pursed lips. Once enough of her natural lubricant builds, she lets a sigh escape her mouth. “Zis… should be good... I hope…” she whispers, reaching her hoof over to the man's face, with her love lubricant lathered along it. The pudgy smell that a mare's heat emanates has had a history of driving humans into a sexual mood, and Kimi hopes to incite exactly that reaction out of him.

She looks down at his still relaxed appendage with anticipation, but to her dismay, it remains soft. Her ears drop and her eyes shimmer again, her shortcoming as a mistress tearing at her heart. Her sisters would have had him solid by now, she thinks. “Hoooh…” she looks down in defeat, her trembling hindlegs almost give way from sheer embarrassment. She lifts her head to stare back at him despondently, noticing that his hazel orbs are looking directly at her again, rather than off into the distance as they previously were.

She blinks quickly, feeling an odd energy coming from him, or so she thinks. The look in his eyes, seeming as if they were swirling with a glowing essence, ignites something inside Kimi that suddenly drives her to press forward. Her brows furrow slowly, “… N-No! My sisters will make a fool of me no longer! I vill do dis! Zis is someting I want to do, and I vill do it!”

With a new sense of possibly plastic determination, she takes in a deep breath. She nuzzles Crimson’s chest and pushes him back, making him lie down along the edge of the bath. Kimi then climbs onto him, her legs surrounding him in a pinning fashion. She carefully steps in a circle so that her ass and tail is left looming just over his chest. Her tail is short enough not to fall onto his face or tickle him, it hangs above him like a string holding bait.

“If dis doesn’t vork, maybe my zisters vere right…” she whispers to herself, looking backwards trepidly. She inches back to align her plot to his face. With a mountain of embarrassed feelings and self-doubt, she brings her rear down, smothering his face.

He finds himself unable to bring in oxygen, instead whiffing in the strong, punchy smell that comes from Kimi's marehood. The heat dripping from her winking nether begins to wet his nose and lips. Her small but toned flank encapsulates his face akin to a breathing mask, forcing him to inhale every part of her lust.

Kimi brings her attention forward, staring at the man's rising erection. “Ahaha! Yes! I did it!” her eyes marvel at the sight of his growing shaft. “Haha! Hehe~ ... Eh… ehehe…” her enthusiasm shifts to doubt as his dick continues to expand. "Oh dear,” she gulps, gazing at his fully erected cock pointing directly to the ceiling. It is much larger than she had anticipated, drawing mixed feelings. “I… I didn’t zink human genitalia became zat… large…” she mutters with a hint of insecurity. She closes her eyes and reassures herself, “n-no matter!” her eyes reopen, and she steps in a circle again to gaze down at the human's eyes. A smile takes her face, the courage from her success keeps her confidence high enough to suppress any doubt she had before. She blinks lubriciously, biting her lip before she coos, “... Be gentle wiff me, yes?"

Kimi gets herself into position, having to look down at her lower region to make sure she’s doing it right. She lowers her rear when she thinks she has a good angle, but finds herself mistaken when the head of his cock presses against her unfitting, tightly clenched anus. “Ek! N-No! Not zat van!” she chuckles nervously, adjusting her hips. With another attempt, her labia presses firmly against the tip of his dick. “Nnnn~” she quietly sounds, closing her eyes and lifting her head up, “zea we go~”

The human continues staring directly at the mare's eyes, seeming to be completely ignorant of what is currently happening to him. She applies more pressure, his tip spreads apart her tight lips. Her back arches in, directing her face to the ceiling. “It vill… be quick…” she mutters eagerly, “and it vill be amazing~”

She brings her hips down with as much force as her fragile state-of-mind will let her. “Ack! Nyah!” her eyes shoot open, taking in half of his shaft before coming to a forceful halt. “Ah, nnh, it… iz a little painful…” she says through breaths “but... I vant more~” she raises her rear up with her shaking hindlegs, grits her teeth, and forces her flank back down. “Icke!~” she leans back, sitting on her haunches, balanced by the flesh pole that sits fully inside of her and bulges her belly.

She pants and winces, but still keeps a smile through all of it. She stares into his eyes, who in turn stares back. The man remain motionless, lacking any enthusiasm, yet not showing signs of protest. “L… Look,” she lets out a breath, “I took you in,” she exhales once more. “You feel… so amazink~” she looks down at her connection with him, admiring the cock-shaped lump that presents itself proudly at her abdomen.

She begins to gyrate her hips, moaning in between breaths. Instead of mushing her insides with the oversized sex filling her by traditional riding, she decides using her hips would be more effective. The mare’s love juices start to coat the man's crotch as she keeps swirling, her moans become increasingly louder and much more uncontrolled. Her cries of desire are accompanied by the wet, slushing sound of lubricated flesh resonating throughout the spa house.

Her hips move faster and faster as the pleasure builds. She isn't sure if it's the size of the tool, or simply the sensation this human gives, but she finds her top being popped almost immediately. She swirls and swirls, eyes beginning to blink unevenly as pink mist floods her nerves.

Her breathing comes from in between her teeth, and saliva congregates at the corner of her mouth until it slowly begins to drip. The sensations building at her lid become too much, until she finally bursts. “Nh-Aah!” she stops swirling, hitting her first orgasm. She twitches, eyes glazed over as she stares into nothing while panting and keeping her forelegs crossed over her chest. To her surprise, the human hasn't climaxed first, which is what she understands typically happens. Her attention is brought down to her partner's face, “Nn, nnh, n-no fair. You ver zupposed to do zat first…” she huffs with pesudo-anger.

She removes the band that keeps her mane tidy, tossing it randomly to the ground. She leans in forward, resting her forelegs against his abdomen. She starts to swirl again, her moans coming out breathy and lazy. Her eyes remain in a half-lidded state, and her mind is completely drowned in the sensation.

The sound of her marehood squishing her juices against his rod resonates once more. She grows lustfully impatient, gritting her teeth as she tries her best to get Crimson to finish inside of her. Beads of sweat roll down her face as saliva trickles down her trembling mouth. “Cum… cum already! Cum... cum... ck-, ck-- Ah!~”

She climaxes a second time, halting suddenly as shocks of euphoria travel from her clit to her brain. With her stamina drained out of her, she finally collapses, her disheveled mane droops around her face messily.

Whether it’s the steam of the room or sweat, she is moist and exhausted. She takes a minute to get her breath back. Her lazy eyes trail across the man's body until they finally stop at his face. She gently runs her hoof up and down his abdomen tenderly, smiling as she whispers, “You cheat… iz not possible for a human to be dis... resilient. ... I ztill feel you… inside of me. You are still so hard~” she coos with a dreamy smile. "... Uck... oh?"

Kimi's brows furrow when something wet touches her hoof. Her eyes dilate to pen pricks when she realizes the tub is starting to flood. “No! Ze water! I-I-I forgot!” she panics and tries to get up, but her hindlegs quiver and fail to pull her off the sex that still fills her.

Crimson suddenly raises his arm, reaching up to his right without even looking. He turns the faucet off, then returns his arm back and rests it to his side once again.

Kimi gasps, awed at the feat she just witnessed. “… You…” her stupefied expression slowly turns to relief and happiness, “… wow." An adorable giggle comes from her as she rests her head back down on his chest. "You certainly are special~”

BAM.

Suddenly, the two other spa mares Keri and Kiri enter, Kiri having busted open the door viciously.

Keri's brow furrow at her sister, “Careful wif ze glass doa, Kiri!”

The two mares gawk in anger to see—

“Ah, velcome back, sisters~” Kimi waves from the seat where she was reading magazines from earlier. She is nice and tidy, cleaned and showing no signs of... anything... except for maybe a certain sheen in her hair.

They see Crimson properly washed and dried off, his shorts and sandals were even cleaned and put back on. The collar Celestia gave him is placed, snug and firm.

Celestia herself walks in after the two mares, with the same gracious smile she appears to always have. “Oh, wonderful," she smiles, admiring the stark difference in cleanliness present on Crimson. "Thank you very much, Kimi. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“No, princess, the pleasure vas all mine~” she says, giving Crimson a half-lidded smile. This causes a scoff from her sisters, but Celestia remains with her smile.

Crimson just stands there in the middle of the room, slowly leaning left and right.

“We should be off. Thank you again, girls!” Celestia says, taking the human's leash into her aura and making her exit with him.

Kimi smiles and waves happily. The other two mares wave with less enthusiasm.

Celestia walks Crimson to the end of the large hall in which they entered, where a large purple door sits proudly among the smaller, less decorated doors. The purple door Celestia opens herself, as there are no guardponies around this side of the hallway. The room that lies ahead appears to be a rather grandiose bedroom with all sorts of expensive, meticulously crafted furniture and furnishings.

Celestia looks out towards the city of Canterlot from her balcony, which has quite a breath-taking view of the entire city, no, the entire land.

The sun is beginning to set, and from what Crimson sees, Celestia is the one responsible for manipulating the sun's position with her magic, but he shows zero reaction to it. Once she is done repositioning it, she turns around and walks towards him, standing directly in front of him but inches away. “Well, my lovely human. This is where we say goodbye.” The smile she gives him is so comforting and warm, he feels as if he's personally connected with this mare to some degree. “You will be in good hooves, I know of it. I think you’ll be just as happy as she will be when you arrive,” her horn glows with her majestic aura, enveloping him in it. “Goodbye, my dear human,” she smiles a little wider, “but I have a feeling it won’t be forever~”

Pfrr!

Crimson's world distorts madly, being teleported off and away from Canterlot.

… “Nnh, mmh. ... Hn!?" his eyes snap open. “Dahlia!?” he shouts as he sits up. He looks around quickly. A room, unfamiliar room. Bed, unfamiliar bed, he's on the bed. There's a collar around his neck. There's a blue pony staring at him, looks scared. Lamp's on over there. Door's right over there, it's slightly opened and--

Crimson freezes. Blue pony?

He slowly turns his head to his right, looking at a young mare wearing glasses who’s sitting on a rocking chair next to the bed. She looks absolutely fucking mortified. “... I… uh…” Crimson’s grains of sand for pupils shift around awkwardly. “… Howdy?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” her ear piercing scream is followed by hyperventilation and violent shaking.

Crimson darts his eyes desperately to anything that could ease the situation, but the only tool at his disposal is his own wit. He sits up on the bed and holds his hands in front of him, motioning them calmly, “Easy, eeeasy, I ain’t gonna hurt ya’. I'm friendly," he puts his hand on his chest, "friend." The scratches and scars littered throughout his chest, arms, and shoulders don't exactly give him an air of peace and tranquility. The more he speaks, the more horrified she looks.

Her back is firmly pressed against the rocking chair that she sits on and her pupils are shaking, but nevertheless, he continues in his attempt to appease to her. “You understand me, right? Listen to me. Listen. Calm down. Slooow breaths,” he speaks as tenderly as his deep, rough drawl will let him, "In... and out, in... and out." The mare still eyeballs him in fear, but she appears to be internalizing his words. She's steadying her breathing, following the pace of his voice.

Crimson takes this time to study her form now that she isn't bound for a heart-attack. She is a youthful unicorn mare, and her coat is an easy blue color, with her mane and tail being a slightly darker shade of blue with streaks of pink. Her currently dilated, trembling eyes are a lovely pink as well. Her body is, from what he gauges in comparison to the other ponies he has already seen, a little bit on the heavy side. She isn't overweight to the point where it makes her look unhealthy, but she definitely has more fat on her than other ponies. Her face is rounded, her arms and hindlegs appear tender and filled, and her belly is adorably pronounced. Just from how well-groomed, unscathed, and delicate she looks, Crimson can tell that she doesn't get out much.

Finally, she begins to calm down. The man clears his throat and smiles, “Sorry for yellin', I was, uh... havin' a bad dream. I didn't mean to scare ya'.”

“T-T-Talking... human," she stammers quietly. Her voice is sweet and easy on the ears, a complete contrast to the headache-inducing scream she let out earlier.

"Yeah."

"T-Talking human! Human is talking! And smiling! Smiling human!” she points with her hooves as if blaming him.

Crimson rolls his eyes and nods, "That's me."

“H-How? W-Where did-- ..." she momentarily short-circuits, freezing in place while still pointing her hoof. "... You’re not supposed to be real! You aren’t supposed to be--! …” she stops herself again, blinking in some sort of realization. Crimson remains unspeaking, waiting for her to come up with a conclusion. “Un… Unless…” she whispers, taking on a thoughtful expression, “unless you’re apart of the anomalies I’ve been reading.”

“... What? Nah, wait, hang on a minute, let's take this slow. Alright? First off, where am I?" he asks and waits patiently for a response... which he doesn't receive, and instead gets a blank stare from her. "... Oookay, so, who're you? ... What's yer name?" his question still remains unanswered, prompting him to try another. "... What am I doin’ here?” Her wide eyes blink the look of being completely and utterly lost. “… Uh, hello?” Crimson reaches forward and waves his hand in front of her face.

“O-Oh, I-- … W-Wow. A human. Asking me questions. This is insane. I’m insane. I’ve officially lost my mind,” with her hooves, she plays with the drooping locks of hair on the sides of her head to calm herself. Her eyes constantly shift from Crimson to something else, finding it difficult to focus them on just one thing. He finds it hard not to admire her shining orbs, how they reflect the amber light of her lamp in her room so gorgeously. “… Okay!” she exhales. “Okay. Answers. To the questions. You just asked me. Ehehehe…” the mare clears her throat, still very hesitant. “You’re in my home. I am Moonlight Wish. You’re here as a gift from Celestia. You are my pet.”

“…" Crimson's brows furrow to the top of his eyes, "... What?"

Moonlight adjusts her black, fairly thick glasses, “You’re… um... you’re in my home, on the outskirts of Baltimare. You’ve been sent here as my pet. W-Well, that’s what any other pony would say, I was actually going to perform studies on you that would lead to new discoveries in the field of human research," she speaks as if she isn't even paying attention to the words that come from her mouth.

“Pardon but, run that by me again? I'm your pet?"

"Y-Yes, you're my... m-... my..." Moonlight's eyes expand upon realizing what he's asking, forcing her to realize what she's saying.

"... Girl, I ain't nobody's pet," he states sternly, grasping the collar on his neck with distaste. Moonlight's mouth opens to speak, but her lips are quivering together frantically. A face-painting blush covers her nose and cheeks, giving them a pink glisten. ... She looks pathetic right now, frozen like a deer in headlights for the second time.

Crimson sighs and leans back, resting against the bed's headboard. Judging by her demeanor and her episodes of realization, it's clear that she hardly has any idea what's going on, so lashing out at her won't cause anything but trouble. He's in her home, there's no need to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home. "... Listen... Moonlight. This is all real sudden and we're both kind of at a loss... what do you say we start over? As individuals, not property. ... I'm sure you didn't mean any wrong, and I'd like to get to know you."

Moonlight's perky blush doesn't leave her face and she continues twiddling with her mane. She slowly nods to his proposition, “Th-... That would be... nice." Her voice comes out timidly, unsure, and a bit awkward... it makes it that much more obvious that she isn't the sociable kind. Her horn glows with light pink magic and Crimson feels the collar that constrained him click. It comes off and she levitates it to her desk. The man smiles and rubs his neck, feeling much more comfortable already. "... I'm Moonlight Wish. W... What's your name?”

“Crimson," he smiles warmly, "Crimson Sky. It’s a pleasure.”

She gives a wry smile and nods in acknowledgement, keeping her eyes away from his. “C-Can I… ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"... When you woke up, you shouted something. A genus of flower, I think?”

“Ah, yeah. Dahlia."

“Were you having a bad dream about... flowers?”

Crimson snickers, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “… Nah, it wasn't about flowers... a pony, her name’s Dahlia. Dahlia Do. Ever heard of her?” Moonlight shakes her head, still keeping a wary expression. “I was with her. She found me when I first woke up her in Equestria a few days back. She kind of saved my life.”

“... This Dahlia pony... is she apart of the Canterlot research team?"

"... Uh... no. I wouldn't say so."

"What does she do for a living?”

"She raids temples and stuff, makes a living sellin’ the things she finds.”

Moonlight’s brows furrow, “Oh, she desecrates the burials of the dead. Hmph, lovely. ... I don’t think I would like her very much. Such a rude and dishonest lifestyle."

“She's certainly a unique type, but I reckon we ain't ones to judge. I recently lost touch with her, when your princess 'Celestia' tossed me here with her voodoo magic.”

“... You were separated from your friend because of Celestia's selection? I can't believe she still does it. ... H-How did you wind up there?"

"Dahlia 'n I came from Dodge Junction, on a trip to Canterlot to sell off somethin' we had. Dahlia got stopped by them ponies with the armor and they separated us."

"The Royal Guard. ... I’m very sorry that that happened, I didn't mean for Celestia to... to...”

“Don’t apologize, none of this is your fault. If it was, I would'a made it abundantly clear by now. As much as I wanted to help myself and Dahlia out of the circumstance, there wasn't much I could do against a city of armored guards... and some sorta weird narcotic that they sprayed at me.”

Moonlight’s eyes beam suddenly, “You aren’t talking about the neutralizing potion, are you?” she asks with enthusiasm.

“… I think so. It smelled like grass and it was in a little purple bottle.”

“Ooo, this is exciting! I can finally ask a human on their experience with the potion! How did you feel? How long did it last? Do you remember anything? Hoh, I had the pleasure of shaking the hoof of the pony who invented and patented it! He's a living legend! Starswirl the Bearded!”

Crimson recalls what he went through... and when realization sets it, he clears his throat and looks away from Moonlight. “I, eh… can’t remember much. I do remember some things, but lots of it was a haze. I remember gettin’ sprayed obviously, I remember the big formation of human cattle. I was put in it after the guards took me away. I remember feelin’ kinda hungry and sleepy. I remember the Celestia princess who took me in."

"When did its effects wear off? Do you remember?"

"It lasted all through out my time there in Canterlot. Several hours, maybe. It didn't stop until I woke up here. I'm glad that it didn't leave a hangover 'r somethin'."

"How riveting!" Moonlight shifts in her seat.

"So, uh, what’s the deal with that Celestia pony? Is she the ruler of your country?” he asks in a discretely diverting manner.

“She is. She was crowned princess not too long ago actually, only a few decades ago. Equestria has been doing well under her care. She's very powerful, but very kind. Because of her great successes in such a short time, many historians label this era, 'The Golden Age.' Very promising! Why do you ask?”

“… Just curious. The more I know about this place, the better. See, I don't actually belong here."

"You did say, 'when I first woke up here.' I was curious about what you meant by that."

"Yeah, I come from another world entirely. I'm... not sure how I even got here, but I'm lookin' to get back. Dahlia was actually tryin' to help me with that. I think I need to go find her.”

“... How are you so sure she was trying to help you?"

“’Cuz I-- …” he halts himself. "... I... uhm..." Moonlight raises her left brow incredulously at him while he furrows in thought. "... Because she said so, I guess."

"That is very naive of you."

"Sheesh, are you the same pony that was crying in fear a second ago?"

"Mh, nh," Moonlight suddenly squirms at his accusation, "I-I didn't mean to sound so mean, but think about it! Your 'friend' is the type that steals from sacred sites without a second thought! Her life revolves around the next haul. Did you really not anticipate the possibility that perhaps she was using you for some sort of monetary gain? How could it have been that she oh-so conveniently lead you to the human selection formation held specifically at a certain time on a specific day of the week?"

"But she didn't get paid for my capture, I was literally stolen from right under her."

"Maybe her plan backfired."

Crimson squints at Moonlight, but his expression softens and his gaze drops to the bed. “… Now that I’m really gettin’ down to it, I was around Dahlia for the better part of a week, and I don’t know a single thing about her other than her name and what she looks like... despite me tryin' to get to know her.”

“That sounds exactly like her type.”

Crimson remains thoughtful, staring at the bed he’s sitting on. Surprisingly, it’s big enough to fit him comfortably, probably due to the fact that she was prepared for his arrival.

“... Don't let me stop you though," Moonlight suddenly begins. "... You're a creature of sentience. You can think and speak, act and rationalize... therefore you do not... belong to me. It would be wrong of me to keep you like an animal. ... If... you want to leave to look for your friend, at any time at all, p-please don't let me stop you."

The displeasure in her voice rackets Crimson's thoughts, prompting him to ask, "... Moonlight?"

She raises her eyes to stare at him, mouth puckered in timidity.

"... Do you live here all by yourself?"

The question is quick to incite a frown, and her ears flop onto her head. She nods twice, letting her body language speak for her.

“... I don’t even know where’d I go if I left,” Crimson muses. “This world's pretty big, and I'm just one man. The last thing I'd want do to is waste myself being lost. ... I'm thinkin’ I’ll just stay here with you, ‘n get my bearings. That is, of course, if you don't mind my company.”

Moonlights expression lights up almost immediately. She shakes her head repeatedly, "I-I don't mind at all. It's... the least I can do for your troubles."

Crimson grins back at her, finding the little unicorn's smile contagious. “... Good to see you feelin' a little better now. I was worried you'd have a stroke earlier.”

“Well, when something you thought you knew and held true your whole life suddenly changes on you, it’s a little scary.”

“A little scary?” he grins wider.

“… A-And that. Your facial expressions. They… they’re something to get used to.”

“Oh,” he drops his face, forcing it to return to its stagnant nature.

"I-I never said it was a bad thing," Moonlight murmurs, adjusting her glasses again. "... I... f-find it... quite charming."

Crimson smiles again, unintentionally, due to the sudden compliment.

“I, um... I think I may have a logical explanation as to why you're here, in Equestria.” Crimson raises his brows, waiting for her to continue. “You see, I’ve been catching readings of anomalies, magical and otherwise, suddenly appearing all over Equestria. They’ve started to appear only a few days ago, reports have been coming in that these anomalies are possibly corrupting and altering pieces of the land, even animals. Trees suddenly die or grow to enormous size, animals become extremely vicious or mutated... and the worst of it all, we don’t know where it’s coming from.”

Crimson looks confused, sitting up from the headboard and scooting over to sit along the edge of the bed, effectively getting closer to Moonlight. A strange appliance on Moonlight’s desk, just next to her rocking chair, suddenly starts up. It looks like a box with a green LED line, where the line is squabbling up and down, along with the box emitting a strange wailing sound.

“What the heck is that thing?” he asks as he gawks at it.

“Oh, that? That’s my Anomaly Net Accurator. Or ANA. Built her myself! She’s the reason I’m able to detect anomalies. Apparently she’s detecting something, and very close by.”

“… Me, maybe?”

“Most likely. I had programmed it to acknowledge you already, but maybe I need to adjust the acknowledgement class. Try moving closer to it.”

Crimson kicks up, standing up and rubbing his head. Moonlight watches the lumbering man stand, his height causes her to become a bit timid again. He walks over to the beeping device, and it goes haywire as he approaches it, emitting an annoyingly loud whine. “Figures.”

“Indeed. That’s what I was getting to. I am to believe that your existence came from these magical anomalies that started appearing.”

“I don’t think I can agree with your hypothesis, professor Wish.” Moonlight’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, looking at him in wonder. “Like I've said before, I wasn’t any sort of human from this land that was ‘mutated.’ I know that for a fact. I still have memories—err, memory fragments, from my home. My real home. I woke up here like a week ago, most of it spent running about with Dahlia."

“But that wouldn't eliminate the possibility that these magical anomalies could have dragged you from your world, via wormhole or the likes."

"... Hmh," Crimson thinks deeply on her proposition, finding soundness in her argument. The two fall into silence while the ANA device wails loudly. Moonlight's horn begins to glow, encasing a number of dials and buttons on the ANA with her magic. With a few turns and presses, it ceases its yammering. “… This is one crazy contraption you got right here. I reckon y’all have potent electricity.”

“The major cities do, and the city near by home, Baltimare, was actually one of the first to receive it. It’s a rapidly expanding field! Great for jobs and general welfare!” she smiles. “And you? Does your land have electricity?”

“Just the rich who can afford it. Them fancy light bulbs don’t seem like a convenient replacement," he gestures at the lamp that's currently illuminating the room. "Good ol’ oil lantern won’t ever let’cha down.”

“Mm. Replacement is a stretch, maybe they can work in unison? Lightbulbs for the home, lanterns for the outside.”

The room falls into another moment of silence, this time without the aid of the loud machine. Crimson's quiet contemplation causes Moonlight to subject herself to awkward tension. She is mistaking the lack of constant conversation for social ineptitude, and she shuffles slightly in her recliner, avoiding any sort of eye-contact.

Crimson glances at her, noticing that she has been doing that quite a lot. The body language this mare presents tells of social anxiety. It's undeniable, with how her nervous adjusting of glasses and playing with her mane, that she's not the most outgoing pony, a complete polar opposite to the tan pegasus that he was acquainted with. “So…” Crimson starts, “what kind’a experiments were you plannin’ on puttin’ me through?”

“Oh!" she exclaims, obviously unprepared for such a question. "Uuh... n-none!"

"C'mon, now, I know you ain't a liar. What experiments?"

"... I was going to run tests on you... but not anymore. Since, well, you can kind of talk a-and… such.”

“If you still wanna do ‘em, go right ahead. The way I see it, we both got nothin' better to do right now, and it could be fun.” Moonlight beams and sits up happily. “Though I ain’t sure what good it’ll do since I’m not a human from this land. I won’t be able to give any data valuable to yer 'human research' cause that'll fit your current criteria."

“That’s fine! I-I’m just super curious, about, well, you, and what you can do! You are very interesting, if you weren't aware of that. Much more interesting than the other humans I have experimented with!”

“I ain't your first test bunny?”

“N-No. Actually, I’ve experimented on all sorts of things, humans included. None of them were harmed! I make very sure that my test subjects are safe and healthy... unlike some researchers I know."

"Sounds like you've got a grudge."

"... I don't hold grudges, I just... don't condone the methods used by some of the members from the Royal Research team."

"That's the second time you've mentioned the 'royals.' You familiar with Canterlot?"

"... Y-Yes, but right now, that's not important. The focus tonight is you!"

“If you say so,” Crimson looks out the circular window that lies above the bed's headboard. “The sun’s startin’ to go down. Do we have time for an experiment?”

“Yes! Yes we do! A rather simple one, it won’t take longer than a few minutes! Please, follow me!” Moonlight hops off the rocking chair enthusiastically, trotting quickly to the door, and Crimson follows behind her.

As she leads him through the house, he sees that this place is rather… nice. It's very modern, to a much greater extent than he has ever seen. The floor is carpeted all around, the home is lit by nightlights plugged into wall sockets that give off a sleepy blue color. There aren't any lanterns, candles, or any other sort of primitive lighting found anywhere.

Moonlight leads him down a staircase, indicating a two-story house. Once downstairs, Moonlight turns and walks through a tile hallway, where her hooves clop against the tile in such an entrancing manner. She continues through a carpeted living room, towards a glass sliding door that leads to the backyard. They both take the door and step out to the grassy, incredibly spacious backyard.

The yard is filled with all sorts of fruit trees, flowers, rock designs, and wooden carvings. There’s even a small garden at the far end that has a stream of water flowing through it. Very tall cement walls lined with vines and flowers give the spacious backyard seclusion and privacy.

“… Your own little piece of paradise, huh?” Crimson asks.

“You can call it that~”

“You tend to all of this yourself?”

“In my free time,” she smiles.

Crimson's head turns left and right, taking the majesty of nature in. He sighs, satisfied and relaxed with his surroundings. “Right, so where’s this test?”

“Right over here!” she calls as she trots towards a line of rocks. The line contains ten rocks, all of varying size, lined up from smallest to the left, largest to the right. “This is a strength test. Fairly simple and straight forward.”

“Mm, alright,” Crimson smiles, liking the idea.

“The rocks are weighted in pounds. They’re marked with their respective weight!”

Crimson looks at the rocks. Indeed, marked with red chalk, there are the numbers. 15, 35, 52, 80, 122, 209, 300, 404, 523, and 631. Small rocks to huge boulders. Moonlight brings a piece of parchment and a quill into her magic from a small cubby box that’s sitting next to a picnic table.

“Start whenever you’re ready!” Moonlight nearly hops in anticipation.

Crimson looks towards the smallest rock first. He steps over it and faces it, this way, he can look at Moonlight and lift the rock at the same time. He crouches down, picking up the 15lb rock with one hand.

“Good!” she writes something down on her parchment.

“So… what’s the heaviest that’s been lifted?” Crimson asks.

“The heaviest rock lifted by a human thus far has been two-o-nine. It was very impressive.”

He nods in acknowledgement. He proceeds to the next rock after setting the first one down. He crouches, picking up the 35lb rock with ease as well. Moonlight keeps that adorable smile on her face the whole time, it's kind of encouraging. He sets the rock down, stepping to the next one. He lifts the 52lb rock with a little bit of effort and proper form.

“Excellent!” Moonlight exclaims.

He then moves to the next rock. He crouches, grasping it with both hands. With a grunt, he gets the 122lb rock off the ground.

“Very impressive!” Moonlight calls. "You make it look so easy!"

He drops the rock, letting out a breath. He moves to the next one, giving it a good stare-down. This rock is the size of three human heads.

With a determined look, he crouches down, gripping the rock. “Hrrh!” he heaves, lifting the rock with great effort. It takes him a second to stand upright with it, but he succeeds as he holds the 209lb rock against his chest.

“Woo! Iiimpressive!” she cheers, giggling to herself.

Crimson lets the rock plummet back onto the dirt, exhaling with a smile. "These rocks'r heavy as hell. Who even got 'em here, all lined up like this?"

"... That's, um..." Moonlight shifts her eyes left and right, "... n-not important?"

Crimson shrugs and smirks, stepping to the next rock. The massive rocks. The big boy rocks. The rocks that take several men to lift.

“Don’t hurt yourself now,” Moonlight speaks sincerely, adjusting her glasses with mild worry.

Crimson crouches down, gripping the massive 300lb rock. He breathes in. And breathes out. Breathes in… “HRPH!” he heaves, getting the rock up off the ground a few inches. “RRPH-- RRH…” His whole body begins to tremble, stuck at the lift-off.

“R-Remember not to strain yourself! Drop it if you can’t!” Moonlight says with growing concern.

“MMRRR!” He continues to tremble. He starts to raise the rock now, inch by inch, but his whole body quakes worse as he exerts himself further.

Moonlight’s mouth opens in surprise as she witnesses this man lifting a rock half his size. “You almost got it! Come on, Crimson! You can do it!"

He almost has it. ... But then he doesn't. His eyes start to close. Moonlight’s cheering turns to a terrified gasp, and her ears drop down onto her head.

“Momma? Why is Vigil not home yet?”

- "You feel it inside of you, don't you? ... Embrace it. Love it. It's apart of you, it's your gift. Use it to make the world a better place, just as Cobalt and Vigil did."

-- "For your life... I'll give my own."

--- "WE'RE COMIN' FOR YA', YA SONNOVA BITCH!

“RRKH!” Crimson fails to get the rock up at the final stretch, nearly dropping it onto his feet. He stumbles back, falling onto his ass, breathing heavily and panting to catch his breath. His vision blacks out into a narrow tunnel, but as blood and oxygen flow as normal again, his vision restores. He worries not for his health, but his concern is stuck on the fragments of his memory that suddenly returned to him, just as it had days before when Dahlia was in trouble.

“Crimson!?” Moonlight says as she rushes to his side. “A-Are you okay? I told you not to overdo yourself!”

“Rh… y-yeah. I’m fine. Just… a little dizzy.”

“Crimson, your eyes! What is this? I’ve never seen something like this before!”

“My… eyes?” he asks in between breaths.

Moonlight's wild excitement turns to a massive frown. “It stopped! Your eyes! They were glowing such a very luminescent golden color! B-But they're not anymore! What is that?”

“... I’m gonna be honest with you, Moonlight, I don’t know what you’re talking about… but Dahlia had said the same thing before. I reckon it ain’t just a coincidence.”

“It couldn’t be, I JUST saw it! It was amazing! When they started glowing, you started lifting the rock higher and higher!”

“… I also started hearin’ voices, like if pieces of my memory came back to me. Me when I was younger, my mom, me again, then... Michael.”

"... Michael?" Moonlight lowers her head, witnessing anger fixate itself on his face.

"... Don't... worry about it. It's just some guy I knew. ... I'm not sure what's causin' memories to suddenly come back to me."

“... It's nothing I am familiar with... I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Moonlight, it ain't your fault or nothin'."

"… Maybe we should go back inside, we’ve done enough for today,” Moonlight says as she begins to roll up her parchment.

Crimson rises to his feet, “No.”

Moonlight freezes.

“I’m gonna lift that rock. And I’mma lift it all the way up this time.”

“N-No! You can’t! You’re going to seriously hurt yourself if you try it again so soon! Let’s just do it tomorro—”

Crimson stands before the massive rock that triumphed over him. He stares at it, still breathing in and out deeply.

"Oooh, he’s not going to listen to me!" Moonlight cries in her head.

He crouches down, grasping the rock once more. “HRGH!” he grits his teeth. Just as before, he lifts the rock a few inches off the ground, coming to a halt just after. “RRK—NRGH!” His entire body trembles as his muscles flex their hardest. Slowly, inch after inch, it rises.

“WOOOWEE! TIME TO STOMP YOU OUT, BOY!”

- “You promised me you'd come back... please don't break your promise.”

-- "Crimson... I miss you..."

“RRAAAH!” his voice echoes through the amber sky as he lifts the rock up, standing straight with it.

Moonlight stares at him, trembling and speechless. It looks like every muscle in his body is going to explode, and to further her dismay, he proceeds to lift the rock even higher, using his chest and arms to raise it above his head. “Crimson, please! P-Put it down!”

His left leg stumbles back, his right leg follows after. He tosses the rock forward, landing it with a heavy thud just a few inches off from where he picked it up. He heaves uncontrollably, his body is completely motionless as he just stands there, breathing profusely. His world melts away as his vision tunnels into blackness.

“Crimson!” Moonlight shouts, running towards the man who’s currently tilting backwards, falling, and landing flat on his back. Her desperate plea is the last thing he hears before slipping into unconsciousness.

“Nh?” Crimson’s eyes bust open sporadically. His eyes shift small distances, attempting to anticipate the pain of overexerting himself rush his body. ... Alas, he feels nothing of the sort. He feels at peace. He swears he can hear music, stringed instruments quietly strum over a distant, ethereal choir... yet no one is around to play or sing.

He stares into the sky, he thinks. It doesn't look very much like the sky he knows. The field above him is grey, and it looks like a storm is forming. It swirls as if the atmosphere itself was a large, slowly churning twister.

He feels grass under him, running his fingers along the greenery. He turns his head left, resting it against the grass... that actually isn't green at all. In fact, nothing around him is of any color.

He sits up, taking in his surroundings. He finds himself in a field that seems to expand infinitely, with a few trees and flowers amongst the grassy hills, but it’s all grey. All sorts of different shades of grey, meshed together to make a beautiful grey-scale world.

Crimson squints in disbelief, uttering unintentionally, “... Where…”

“Took you long enough to get here.”

He hears an oddly familiar voice. His own voice. Crimson turns his head towards the speaker, and there, sitting next to him, he sees himself. He wasn't there before, yet he casually smiles as if he was always there.

"Welcome back to the Rift."

Sentience, a blessing and a curse.

Sentience is what distinguishes animals from rulers. Ever since time began its eternal venture forward, creatures of all kinds roamed. They struggled and survived amongst each other, where the strong and adapted would trudge forward, and the weak would perish, thus, the game of life is claimed by the survivors.

The survivors continue to survive, they thrive, and they begin to expand. They lead their pointless lives until a stronger, more powerful force ends their feeble existence. One comes to realize, it is not enough to survive, it is not enough to thrive, you must evolve, you must conquer, you must be able to punish those who oppose you.

Perhaps that is not completely true. What, then, is the true key to survival? Unity. The answer is simple, no?

Nothing is ever so simple.

You see it, time and time again, you watch them. These sentient creatures, they start from nothing, but build themselves empires. Communities are built upon unity, and united, cities form, countries are founded, and worlds are established. But who governs them? Who are the leaders of these united colonies? It is the creatures of sentience, they rule over one another. This begs the question: does it matter how a colony is ruled?

“Democracy!” calls the creature of independence.

“Socialism!” shouts the creature of equality.

“Communism! With an iron fist!” cries the creature of great power.

Perhaps another choice? Which answer is correct? None of them, of course.

You see it, time and time again, you watch them.

At last, the creatures of sentience have finished their kingdoms, they have survived, they have thrived, they have evolved. These creatures seek to evolve even more now. They seek to expand their borders, strengthen their militaries, and spread their ways. Inherently, this is not an evil goal, but as everything, it depends on who you ask. You see now, every community, every colony, every kingdom, they all wish to expand, to strengthen, to spread. It is in the nature of these creatures to have conflicting paths. Words may solve these conflicts, but what happens when they do not? What occurs when the sword is stronger than the pen?

You see it, time and time again, you watch them.

Thriving communities and established colonies all succumb to an inevitable end, destruction. Kings, dictators, presidents and the like, unity fails. The key to survival falters. Conflicting ideals and opinions push unity away, causing the pillar of survival to crumble. This cycle has, and will, continue for as long as time will move forward. No one can change it, it is simply the condition of existence.

You see it, time and time again, you watch them.

Nuclear fallout and the elemental corruption of the poor, beautiful world these creatures of sentience invade. Chemical warfare, the death of every innocent plant and animal once taking residence in these now forsaken lands. Tech weaponry, using the very minerals from the ground to destroy and leave barren the blameless earth that once gave them life. These creatures all fall to the same fate. In their arrogance, they destroy everything that was beautiful, they destroy everything that was good.

Rise now, rise to the Weave with me. Behold, this is the place between places, the space that exists nowhere, but everywhere at the same time, the place where even time dares not to tick. Look, look with your eyes. You see them, do you not? Those glimmering lines that expand infinitely forward? An infinite number of timelines, an infinite number of worlds and creatures.

Every single string is attached to the same beginning, called the root, but branch off to vast, innumerable universes. Now see, sets of strings are massed together to form clusters. Each cluster in the Weave contains up to thousands, even millions of timelines. They are all different from each other, but only marginally. The further you move away from a single string, you will see many more alterations in the path neighboring strings have taken. Every single string leads their own path as they all separate from one another, hoping that their unique direction will continue to stretch forever.

Ah, I see your string. … Can you see it?

When the root of a string stands on the border of destruction, any potential lives and future existences are destroyed. For every ruined string, an entire cluster can potentially snap. It would not take long for creatures of sentience to drive an entire cluster of universes into extinction.

Creatures are born, creatures survive, creatures thrive, creatures evolve, creatures destroy. This is the circle of life. Does this mean that existence is futile? Every walk of life is born only to die, and fade into the void? In essence, yes, but in practice, no. This is due to the guardians who watch from afar, that exist in and outside of time itself. I speak of beings made of light, of soul, and of essence, The Arch Angels.

Created by the Watcher, these beings from ancient times serve to protect the Weave. Arch Angels are born in special families, passed down through generations, purposed to defend strings with all that they can give. Angels come in every form; they may come as quick, cunning, flying creatures. They may come as delicate, slow, loving creatures. They may even come as large, lumbering, strong creatures. Some on two legs, others on four legs, even six or eight.

Despite all of these differences, they are of the same essence, Arch, which flows through the blood and soul of every angel. An immaterial gift that functions physically and metaphysically, its capabilities are endless. An angel may choose to harness the energy of light to create a weapon, others may stare into the soul of another creature, revealing their true nature and character. Some angels may tend to wounds, using themselves as a sacrifice, other angels may convert a fistful of sand into golden flakes.

Arch functions at the molecular level, modifying and codifying the very building-blocks of the life to perform everything and anything that can be imagined. Through nuclear fission and fusion, the imagination runs free, and the only limit to Arch is the Arch Angel wielding it, where their patience, discipline, and fortitude is truly tested. Not all angels are the same, and some are bound to use their gift more efficiently than others, where even some may never realize their gift at all.

Delving further into the essence these angels come with, we find attunements that dictate what their Arch will be capable of performing best. There are two categories: the attunement of Body, and the attunement of Soul.

You will find many Arch Angels with their attunement of Body fighting battles. Angels of Body are commonly taller, faster, and stronger than their own kind, and their physical prowess is customarily unmatched. These powerful spirit-warriors stand at the front-line to keep their worlds safe from tangible and intangible threats, they stand against the corruption around them with their shields raised.

You will find Arch Angels with their attunement of Soul standing beside you, and many a-time, you will hardly distinguish them from other people. They can be your neighbor, your friend, or maybe even your cousin. Their physical catalyst, their Body, does not display any overt clue that they are beings of supernatural ability, but one would be wise not to take this unassuming nature so lightly. These types of angels often stand alongside their people, living by them and protecting them from behind the curtain.

The task of saving worlds is not a light one, no, even a seasoned Arch Angel will falter against the potency of evil if they are not cautious. It is not enough for an angel to be strong as an individual, but to be strong together with those that surround them.

Gather strength, gather allies, for this endeavor will dictate the fate of their worlds. Can these creatures earn their right to continue to survive? To thrive? To evolve? Or will they simply fade away, into the nothing, erased from the books of history.

I suppose we will find out.

Crimson looks around dubiously. After witnessing the manifestation of himself, his attention is grasped by a humongous tree that sits in the very middle of this dreamy land, expanding endlessly upwards, with branches as thick as buildings.

"Howdy," the other Crimson smiles.

"... Howdy to yerself," Crimson huffs while sitting up, rubbing his forehead anxiously. This other Crimson appears to be wearing the same exact attire that he typically wore back home, his working clothes; grey shirt, grey slacks, black boots, brown belt and brown duster. "... I think I passed out."

"Kinda... not exactly."

"Who're you? What happened to me?" Crimson delivers his questions with visible distress.

"Easy, easy... calm down. There ain't no rush."

Crimson keeps his right hand over his forehead, disgruntled and worried. "... I-I'm not dead, am I?"

The other Crimson chuckles, "No, no, nothin' like that. Not even close. Let me explain, would'ya?" Crimson nods despondently, keeping his unsteady eyes on the manifestation of himself. "I'm you, obviously, but more specifically, I'm your, uh... essence."

“… My essence, huh.”

The other Crimson nods, "I know it don't make a lot of sense when I say it like that, but I'm basically the part of you that holds all of yer Arch discipline."

“… Does that explain why I'm missin' certain pieces of my memory?”

"Precisely."

"How is any of this even possible?"

"It'll make more sense when we're back together again, but for now, don't stress over it."

"... But how were you separated from me?"

"That's a big question... the only thing I can really say for sure is that I was separated from you when we got plopped into Equestria."

"So you know that we went to Equestria."

"Yeah. I've been seeing through your eyes, what you've seen, I've seen. We've seen."

"How did we even end up there? Were we magically teleported or somethin'?"

"... Ain't got a clue." Crimson's manifestation shrugs.

"... Fuck," Crimson rubs his eyes, sighing deeply. "If I ain't dead, where am I?"

“I said before, but I'll say it again,” the other Crimson rises to his feet, “welcome to the Rift, or should I say, welcome back to the Rift, our little slice of paradise. It's a place that doesn't exist, but it exists for us."

"... Like a dream?" Crimson stands up as well, standing shoulder to shoulder with his manifestation as he stares around at the greyscape.

"Nneeh, not really. I can't put it into words, but this place ain't a dream. It's not a dream, but it's not reality either."

"That's a lot of mental hopscotch."

The manifestation shrugs again.

"... What do we do in this here Rift?"

"We can do whatever we want here, literally anything.”

“… Anything?”

"Anything. I ain't too sure how it works, probably just one of those things that is but you never know why. I ain't complainin', this place is a nice retreat when things get stressful."

"Why's everythin' grey?"

"Because we want it that way. It doesn't have to be grey. Like I said, we control this place, leaf by leaf, color by color."

"... This's a lot to take in.”

“For you 'n me both. I wish we had the answers, partner, but moseying around ain't gonna give 'em to us."

“Yeah, suppose yer right. What I don't get is that I was liftin' rocks one minute, then the next one I'm here. How did liftin' rocks get me here?'"

"Wasn't just liftin' rocks, it was the exertion. Your Arch was dormant, 'n exerting yer body drew it out, which ain't the only way to activate it mind you... it's just the easiest, I reckon. The energy from your body was strong enough to reconnect back to the Rift, and you connecting back to the Rift lets me reach you now. We can be one again. Good thing too, since watchin' you completely forget what you really are kinda drives me up the wall. Whatever caused me to get pulled outta you, it really fucked up yer psyche and your body. You couldn't even lift three-hundred pounds! We do that shit in our sleep!"

Crimson's brows furrow, "Why would we be disconnected from each other? Especially since I completely forget the most important aspect of who I am. Why did this happen to me?"

"... You already asked that."

"Yeah, because this's bullshit. What the fuck happened to me? I abandoned Viola for christ's sake."

"Oh, don't worry, she's fine. Completely fine. She's been dyin' to see us again, and she'll be able to once we're together. I ain't sure why, but I'm unable to reach the Viola without you. I reckon we need to be together to be a fully functioning angel again."

"The way I see it, I got picked up and dumped into some other world without warning, and without an idea in hell as to why."

"Sums it up pretty well."

Crimson sighs, staring bitterly at the grass under him.

"... Hey. Look on the bright side, Michael's dead. He's dead and gone, and we've only got our entire lives ahead of us. Shit gets hard, but that's the way the ball rolls. And the best part? We get to see Viola again. She's safe, and that's really the only thing that matters. Once we're done in Equestria, we've got a life-time of happiness headed our way."

Crimson's solemn face slowly shifts to passive contemplation. The gently swaying flora, blown from a non-existent wind, breathes easiness into his soul. "... I give good pep-talks."

"I know I do. Now c'mon, enough wastin' time," the manifestation turns and steps in front of himself. Once the mirrored pair stand facing each other, the manifestation lifts his hand and touches Crimson’s shoulder, and they stare deeply into each other's eyes.

Crimson's vision flashes, causing him to stumble back and grip his head. His body trembles while memories flood back into his head like a tidal wave. Memories of his father, brother, mother, and specific events tailored to his Arch.

After the two reconnect, the reality around him blurs and contorts briefly. He shakes his head, blinking his dizziness away and fixing his posture to stand up completely straight. He looks around now, his eyes taking a droopy, lazy look. They passively glow, vibrant with an energy that looks like golden magma swirling in his irises. His attire has now taken that of his soul, his working clothes, and like a gentle mist surrounding him, golden Arch dances around his form.

He feels her knocking, wanting to enter in his paradise. Crimson slowly closes his eyes, the world around him blackens as his eyelids fall.

"Huh!" she gasps suddenly.

Crimson reopens his eyes, seeing a girl standing right in front of him, inches away and facing him. Her one eye, uncovered by her jet black hair, glances around quickly in her awe. She finally rests her gaze on her brother, staring up to look at him. Her eye, usually cyan in color, glows golden just like her brother's. The tiny 'o' that is her mouth slowly widens as a smile replaces her shock.

"Hey, Vi," Crimson smiles back at her. Without a word, Viola moves in and hugs him tightly, gripping at the back of his duster coat as if hanging on for dear life. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she murmurs against his chest quietly.

"... 'M sorry for suddenly leaving you... I really had no idea that I'd suddenly disappear."

"It's okay," she replies simply, the tone of her voice remaining quiet and tender.

"... How's everythin' back home?" Crimson asks, tilting his head to get a better look at her face as she smothers it against him. One single tear forms at the corner of her tightly closed eye, trembling, until it finally runs down her cheek. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't bother responding to that question. Crimson's smile widens slightly, taking the hint and giving in to the moment. He embraces her just as fully as she holds him, and they remain together in silence.

A place, where time has no meaning, where reality is his to shape, the Rift. Crimson remembers everything. He's happy to remember everything. He's happy to finally have his sister back with him, even just like this. While in the Rift, an Arch Angel's body remains back in the physical world, appearing as if they were simply asleep. Unfortunately, this means Viola isn't there with him truly. Once she leaves Crimson's Rift, she will wake up alone once more.

The two siblings take all of the time in the multiverse to reconnect. Crimson tells Viola about the things he's seen, how he interprets them, and what he plans to do. He assures her that he will return to her soon, but Viola insists that he should take care of himself and understand what had caused him to suddenly relocate to the land of equines. There's something missing, and they both agree that they should figure it out before something like this happens again.

"... Are you sure that you'll be fine, Vi?" Crimson asks as he sits down on the grass with his sister, arm coupled around her to hold her against himself.

"I will... as long as you let me visit you every now and then."

"Of course I will. I'd do it even if the world tried to hold me back. Feel free to come and go from my Rift whenever you like... since I know you don't exactly like yours. ... You never really told me why you don't like your own Rift. What's wrong with it?"

"... I just don't like it."

"C'mon, Vi. There's gotta be somethin' about it in specific that you don't like. You can literally shape it however you want!"

"... It doesn't have you in it."

"Is that really it? I could visit your Rift. Boom, problem solved."

"... I like yours better."

Crimson chuckles, "Well, guess I can't argue with that."

“... Do you need to leave soon?”

"Sadly. I wish I could take you with me... I ain't too keen on the idea of havin' to leave you again.”

"... Crimson?"

"Mhm?"

"... Could you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"... Could you make our house here?"

Crimson gently squeezes her a bit tighter to reaffirm the embrace they share. "Only if you promise me that you won't stay here forever. I know I said you can be here as long as you like, but remember that you've still gotta live life on the other side."

"... I promise."

"... Look to your left."

Viola turns her head, glancing past her brother to see a single-floor home, made of wood and cinder block, perched in the middle of the grassy landscape as if it was always there. Her eye shimmers, looking back towards her brother with emotion welling in her heart. Crimson smiles down at her, leaning in to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Stay safe for me, Vi."

Viola nods solemnly, closing her eyes and wiping a tear before it manages to run. The warmth around her vanishes, and when she reopens her eyes, the red-haired man is nowhere to be found.

Crimson's world churns back into tangibility, as if he was feeling the reverse state of being drugged. His eyes slowly creak open to stare at a ceiling, Moonlight’s ceiling. He shifts his hazel orbs around to see he was set back in her bed. The lamp’s still on, it seems. There's only one sound to be heard, and it's gentle breathing coming from some place to his right. He sits up slowly, grunting and looking around. His face lights up in amusement as he sees Moonlight asleep on her desk, next to her ANA device. He notices broken quills and crumbled up parchment all over her work station, indicating the possibility that she had quite a long night. He gazes at the sleeping mare, her glasses are nearly falling off of her muzzle while she rests her cheek against the table.

Crimson takes this opportunity to get some air. He removes the soft, comfortable blankets that cover him and he stands up. His vision swirls horribly for a moment, and he internally scolds himself for standing up too fast. Once reality fixes itself, he makes a path out of Moonlight's room, being as quiet as possible. He heads downstairs and exits the glass sliding door, entering the backyard.

The sounds of the night fill the air. Crickets chirp, leaves rustle in the calm breeze, and some wind chimes jingle near the sliding door. The moon is much larger in Equestria, compared to Earth. He looks up at it, smiling and waving his hand to the moon. The smile fades, replaced by his resting face as he turns himself around to face his arch-nemesis, the rock line. He stomps over, standing begrudgingly before the smallest rock. He crouches down and picks it up, holding it with one hand while examining it. Just a boring, dumb old rock... but with millions of stories to tell.

He sets it down, moving to the next rock. And the next one, and the next one. He lifts every rock with ease, now standing before the 209lb rock. He squats down, grips it, and rises with it. It is as if the rock was a hundred pounds lighter. He sets it down carefully, moving to the next rock.

He now looms over the 300lb rock. He eyes it lazily, giving a stare that shows he isn't impressed. He crouches down, gripping it into both hands. His eyes begin to glow a soft, golden color, which shine methodically in the sleepy night. “Hrm,” he grunts, lifting the rock up and holding it against his chest with some effort. He holds it for a few seconds, then he crouches back down, setting it on the grass and letting out a sigh. Crimson can't help but stare at the 300lb rock, smiling quite ridiculously. "... Thanks, partner," he murmurs to it.

“Crimson?” asks Moonlight from behind him.

He turns his head, looking over to the sleepy-eye pony. She’s just now entering the backyard from the sliding door. “Ah, sorry, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, taking off her glasses with her magic, rubbing her eyes with her hoof. “No, it’s okay, I was only half asleep. I heard you get up from the bed. … I’m amazed that you’re up and about. After what happened to you, I thought you’d be down for at least a few days,” her worried eyes scrutinize the man. Her silky, well-maintained body, accompanied by the deep blue color of her coat, shines beautifully under the moonlight, perfectly fitting for her name.

Crimson finds himself briefly distracted by her appearance, shaking his head and grinning wryly. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Thanks for helpin' me back into bed."

"Y-You're welcome. ... You really are something. When Celestia told me that she was going to send me something special, I really didn’t expect... ‘this.’”

He snickers, "To be fair, I don't think even she knew what she was sendin' you." He turns around, walking towards the 300lb rock again.

Moonlight furrows her brows. “… What are you doing?”

He vaults over the rock and turns around, facing Moonlight. He crouches down, grasping it with both hands.

Moonlight gasps, “W-What? Wait! No! Not this again!”

Crimson takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes… “Hrh.” He raises the rock without a hint of struggle, holding it against his barren chest.

Moonlight's eyes slowly expand, “… Wooah… th--... that was so effortless. That…” she blinks rapidly, retaking the scene before her. “That was amazing! How is this even possible!?” Crimson’s eyes open, revealing their glowing nature. Moonlight gasps again, “… Your eyes."

He crouches back down, setting the rock back in its place. His orbs cease their glowing, slowly fading into their regular, hazel selves.

“How… what..?" Moonlight stammers as she walks closer to him.

“Let’s just say I had a little time with myself,” Crimson smiles at her as she stares at him with mixture of stun and awe.

“Human… magic. This is incredible! I was trying to figure out what was happening to you ALL night! But nothing was working! Every hypothesis failed, every path lead to a dead end. Every ounce of data was worth peanuts!”

“I wouldn’t call it magic, its properties ain’t the same."

His words bring out confusion. Her eyes shift left and right, trying to process what he said. “If not magic… then what is it?”

“Arch."

“Ark?” Moonlight questions. “Like the large transportation boat?”

Crimson shakes his head. “Pronounced like that, but spelt differently.”

“… A. R. C. H?”

"Bingo."

“How… peculiar. Did you come up with this name yourself?"

He shakes his head, “My dad told me what it was called. He knew a lot more about it than I do. I’ll try to explain everythin’ as best as I can, but I never learned the formalities of it.”

“That's terrible! How could you not take the time to learn about something so important to you?"

"There aren't exactly any books that tell me how to use my Arch, Moonlight. As far as I know, I'm the only one of my kind, and everything I've learned up to now was hard-fought."

"Oh... I see," Moonlight's lowers her head and her eyes fall to the ground. "P-Please excuse my rudeness."

Crimson chuckles, “You're okay, Moonlight. I know what you meant. Trust me, if there was a book labeled How to Arch Angel one-o-one, I'd scrutinize it in a heartbeat."

Moonlight giggles at his playful remark, smiling up at him. "Arch Angel. That's very pretty."

"Glad you think so. There’s somethin’ I actually wanted to talk to you about, Moonlight. It has to do with them magical anomalies that you’ve been readin’.”

“Of course. What about them?” she fixes her glasses.

Crimson walks over to the picnic table that sits near the rock line. He takes a seat backwards, resting his elbows on the table. Moonlight follows his lead and sits down next to him.

“These anomalies. You said they started appearin’ about a week ago?”

“Indeed. I originally built my ANA device for studies of magic on untested objects, but it started going crazy. I wrote many letters to pen pals all over Equestria to see if any of them were experiencing any strange or anomalous magic. They all came back with positives, but none of them were sure what the cause was. They only saw the environmental corruption I was telling you about earlier. I wrote to them recently to see if they’ve been able to contain or remove the corruption, but I am... still waiting for their replies…” she pouts. Crimson looks at Moonlight as she speaks, occasionally nodding. “I remember you telling me you arrived here about a week ago as well. As I told you before, I have been assuming that the anomalies may have pulled you from another world or something along those lines. Does that sound crazy? Am I crazy?”

Crimson shakes his head, reaching over and patting Moonlight on hers. “If you're crazy, then so'm I, 'cuz honestly, I'm thinkin' you're right. You've got a real knack for makin' sense, so I reckon we're not the crazy ones.”

Moonlight blushes and moves her gaze away, adjusting her glasses.

“What we can certainly all agree on is the fact that somethin’ needs to be done about them. If it’s causin’ serious problems, it needs to be dealt with. It’s spreadin’, right?”

Moonlight fixes her mane and nods, “from what my fellow researchers said, yes, it is, though we do not know how fast. There’s still so much we don’t know about it yet.”

“Well, how’s about some good ol’ on-field research?”

“You mean go out… and travel?” she asks with skepticism, to which he nods. “… B-But it’s dangerous out there. I-I prefer staying. Here. In the comfort of my home, and…” Moonlight trails off as she sees Crimson’s unenthused orbs gawking at her.

“You’ll have me to protect you. Swear on it. I’ll do everythin’ I can to keep you safe if things get rough.”

Moonlight’s ears drop to her head and she looks away again.

"... Moonlight?" he leans towards her slightly. "... You don't trust me, do you?"

"It... It isn't that I don't trust you, b-but... I don't... like the idea... the idea of having to leave my home..."

"... Moonlight."

"Crimson, please understand me. Please understand that I don't want to leave my home. I'm happy here. I-I don't want to go anywhere else."

"... How're you expected to figure out what's causin' the magic problems if you stay here?"

"B-By doing what I've always done, write letters to my peers and submit statistics to the Royal Research team."

"Don't you think you could get so much more done if you actually went out 'n got the experience? You aren't limited by your surroundings, you've got the world as your field."

"..." Moonlight stays unspeaking, keeping her eyes plastered on the grass below her.

"... I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, Moonlight. I apologize if I'm comin' off a bit pushy."

"N-No, it's okay, really, I'm not bothered, I... I..." Crimson eyes her softly, letting her gather her thoughts by remaining silent. "... C-... Could you give me some time to think about it? P-Please?"

"... Of course. Take all the time you need," he replies reassuringly, reaching his hand to move a strand of pink hair out of Moonlight's left eye. The mare blushes deeply and purses her lips, feeling her heart pounding with foreign feelings... which is abruptly interrupted by a yawn that forces itself out of her mouth.

“Heh, now that sounds like a good idea to me too,” Crimson smirks, standing up from the table. “Think a good night’s rest is somethin’ we both need.” Moonlight rubs a tear from her eye, rising from the table also. “I don’t gotta invade yer bed tonight either,” he smirks.

“Oh, no, it's okay, you can sleep in it if you want. I’m okay sleeping on the couch in the living room, it’s very comfortable,” she assures as she begins her trek to the glass sliding door.

“I ain’t takin’ your soft, wonderful bed away from you anymore.”

"I insist, t-the couch wouldn’t fit you very well anyway.”

“Then how about we share the bed?” he muses.

“That’s okay, really, you can take the-- … What?” Moonlight stops, freezing in place.

“Share the bed."

“… I-- I--, I um, I don’t kn-know if…” her stammering causes her cheeks to redden further.

“The bed's pretty spacious. It’ll fit both of us with room to spare. ‘N don’t worry about snorin’ or talkin’ in my sleep, I don’t do any of that. 'N if you do, then that’s quite alright, I sleep like a rock.”

“… I,” Moonlight tries to find the words. “… Good. ... I-I mean, okay! Okay on share. The bed. Good. Why did I say good again? What is wrong with me?”

Crimson holds in laughter at the mare's awkward antics, moving over to open the sliding door for her and let her walk in first. He enters after her, closing the door and making the path upstairs. Upon entering the bedroom, he focuses his eyes on the dormant ANA device while walking by it. “Surprised that your ANA thingy ain’t callin’ me names again."

Moonlight clears her throat, still warm at the cheeks, “I programmed her to recognize you after I took you back in. She won’t be harassing you anymore."

“Good to hear,” he smirks, directing his attention to Moonlight. She looks back at him with uncertainty. He motions with his hand for her to go right ahead and lie down first.

She looks at the bed, absorbed in stage fright, and walks over, climbing onto the bed in a painfully shy manner. She picks up the covers and plants herself onto the right side. Once she adjusts herself into a comfortable position, Crimson strides over and lies down next to her, making sure not to disturb her nest of blankets.

The two lay next to each other, accompanied only by the quiet, occasional beep of the ANA device. The bed is indeed spacious enough to rest both of them comfortably. Once she uses her magic to click off the lamp, Crimson looks over to Moonlight, who is finding something rather interesting on the ceiling. “G’night, Moonlight.”

The mare doesn't respond immediately, instead taking in the realization that a human, who she has spend the latter half of the afternoon with, is telling her 'good night' like if nothing was out of the ordinary. Of the many things she's predicted in her time as a Royal Researcher, a night like this wasn't one. “G… Goodnight. Crimson.” Her still-tinted pink cheeks display her trepidation, but it doesn't stop her from smiling to herself. Whatever tomorrow holds, it will definitely be more exciting than solving a formula.

Soft and warm breathing, gently huffing against his face over and over. It smells peculiar, maybe a little pungent, but not terribly so. Crimson’s eyes open, blinking tiredly before they remain attentive.

The morning sun punches through the circular window above the bed, shining into the room and giving it light. Miraculously, he had a great slumber. This blessing of a bed combined with perfect room temperature was a formula enough for one of the best nights of sleep he’s ever had.

He turns his head to the right, over to where Moonlight is sleeping next to him… and by next to him, he means right next to him. The little blue unicorn had shuffled around in her sleep during the night, resting right up against his side, but not hugging him or embracing him in any way… she’s just kind of plastered against him. Her coat is amazingly soft and smooth to the touch, like if a firm mass of warm, high-quality silk fabric was pressing on his side.

He has a close-up view on the inside of her slightly hanging maw, where she inhales through her nose and exhales out of her mouth to throw a soft gust of hot air at his face. She certainly doesn’t look graceful like this, but it’s pretty cute in an odd way. Crimson studies her face, keeping himself from moving so she doesn’t wake up.

It’s amazing, realizing just how parallel her existence is to his despite never having known of each other's worlds. Unlike a horse or a pony from Earth, which usually has brown and goofy teeth due to its natural tendencies, Moonlight’s are perfectly ordered and pearly. They’re so prim in fact, they put his own teeth to shame, which comes as a surprise since he made very sure to brush and floss as often as he could. A lot of men and women in Crimson’s old gang, the Black Spurs, had yellowed and crooked teeth, and it wasn't like dental supplies were hard to come by. They refused to take care of themselves, but not Crimson. Willingly failing to take care of one's own body is an odd peeve that he has with others, but regardless, he doesn't tell anyone anything more than once, especially if he knows they aren't going to listen.

She’s the pinnacle of hygiene and self-care, even if she is out-of-shape. Her mane managed to maintain its shape throughout the night, still drooping downwards, snipped to make it appear sharp at the ends but round at the top. Her horn is dangerously close to his forehead, but luckily for him, that’s about it. It’s close, but it never stabbed him. He feels tempted to reach out and touch the very tip of it, wondering if she can even feel it. He isn’t sure if a unicorn’s horn is some sort of bone with marrow and nerves in it, or just some hard protrusion that sits at the top of their head, unfeeling and unmoving.

Crimson’s admiration is slowly deterred as his body begins to fully wake up. He feels the need to use the restroom, and not having eaten anything since Dahlia’s breakfast, he sure is hungry. He turns his head forward, facing the ceiling, and he lies still for a few more minutes.

After making sure that Moonlight’s still asleep, he discretely moves himself away from her, lifting the covers off of himself and shuffling out of bed. Once he stands and quietly yawns, he scratches his chest and looks back at the sleeping body. He smiles a little, wondering how such an attractive being could be living by herself with no company.

“Hnnn~” she suddenly moans, rolling on the bed to end up on Crimson’s side of the bed. His side is warm, causing Moonlight to snuggle into the indentation his body left behind on the mattress.

Crimson suppresses the urge to vocalize his adoration, being that cute is seriously criminal. These ponies in general are very attractive in shape, especially in comparison to the ones he worked with back home. Tiny muzzles, thin yet expressive lips, large and lively eyes, and their compact size from flank to nose delivers a visual aesthetic like no other.

It wasn’t his choice to end up being sent into this world, but in a way, he’s glad he was. Now that he knows his sister is fairing well, and he's able to talk to her when she wants, he's content in remaining in Equestria for a bit longer. This experience is certainly one worth having, especially since there's a problem disturbing the tranquility of the land. He wants to figure it out and hopefully put a stop to it. This world, or Moonlight at least, deserves to be safe from harm.

As Crimson walks quietly towards the door to exit the room and find the bathroom, he thinks about Moonlight’s reaction last night. She seriously seemed adamant about staying home, refusing the chance to acquire new and useful data via field research. She definitely looks like a home body, but even home bodies know when to leave the fort when it's necessary. She was almost desperate in the way she asserted her desire to remain here.

Crimson sees a sleek, modern wooden clock with silver-black hands ticking on the wall in the hallway. It’s actually pretty damn late, 12:45. This is possibly the latest he’s ever woken up, as he’s usually up when the sun is. The animals he had back home, before they died too suddenly in the massive shootout, where his natural alarm clock.

He finds his first stop just down the hallway, next to the staircase, where a fully opened door gives way towards a comfortably-sized restroom. Just like other rooms in the house, a nightlight with a blue lightbulb shines, but is completely drowned out by the sun’s gaze piercing through the restroom window.

He sees that even this restroom is a modern leap ahead of what he’s used to, with tile floors, a carpet in front of the shower tub, a rather nice sink and toilet, and pink and purple floral patterns along the walls. A lot of work went into this house, and for Moonlight to be the only one living in it is piteous.

Maybe she’s always been socially awkward. Crimson knew of some folks back home who just couldn’t meet and greet worth a damn, no matter how hard they tried. Viola could be coupled into that group if thinking about it a certain way, and Moonlight might just be one of those people… which is sad too, because she’d probably make a good mom. Anyone who can care for a home like this and such an extensive garden outside is bound to be good at taking care of young.

After Crimson finishes his business, making very sure to leave the place as clean as it was before he entered, he rinses his hands with one of the several soap products that Moonlight has set out. It’s not clear what she’d do with so many different soaps, but there they are.

He then heads out of the restroom and treks downstairs, feeling the cool tile greet his bare feet. His cargo shorts still scrape quite uncomfortably against his groin, but they’re better than nothing, and Moonlight doesn’t need to be more embarrassed than she already gets. He's caught her staring at his body, his barren chest, more than once. It might be a normal thing for ponies to be attracted to humans... but the same can't be said about the reverse. Crimson isn't totally sure whether he should be finding Moonlight as adorable and attractive as he currently does, but on the same token, she's not just any animal. She can speak, think, rationalize, and she practices self-care.

On the other side of the coin, it addles him that these ponies are attracted to humans regardless of the fact that they lack all of those aforementioned traits. The humans here a wild and animistic in nature, which isn't very attractive in his eyes. Maybe he'll ask Moonlight about it later.

He makes his way towards the kitchen, which is next to the living room and the exit to the backyard. There’s a few consumable items in plain sight, like baskets that contain fruits, veggies, and some wrapped snacks, then there’s an electrically powered refrigerator which he won’t open without Moonlight’s consent.

Deciding he can wait a bit longer for her to wake up before touching anything missable, he walks to the sink to get a swig of water. There’s a pink plastic cup sitting next to the knobs of the faucet, probably one that Moonlight uses to fill and drink water from. He picks it up and sniffs it, getting no peculiar smells from it and seeing that it has a tiny bit of water at the very bottom. Convinced that it’s a drinking cup, he fills it with cold water from the faucet, proceeding to chug it down in gulps. With a satisfied sigh, he sets the cup down and returns to the living room.

He stands there, alone and unmoving, with his hands in his pockets as he stares out of the glass sliding door that enters the backyard. He can see several butterflies of different colors flapping about happily, enjoying their short lives by pollinating every single flower in the garden.

He takes a seat on the couch, and it sinks in comfortably to his buttocks. With a pleased exhale, he reclines back, sitting with his leg crossed over the other and his left arm reaching across the top of the backrest. Moonlight wasn’t lying when she said the couch was comfortable, he feels like he could fall asleep again right here and now. It's also great that the furniture and appliances in Moonlight's house are sized perfectly for a fully-grown human, they're not small or 'pony-sized.' While not positive about it, he assumes she was probably expecting a human to be at her home at some point, but it also doesn't make sense, since any other human from this world wouldn't be sitting down on the couch like he is right now. Maybe the big furniture is just personal preference.

He doesn’t know how much time he spends just sitting there, thinking, remembering, and reflecting about different things. … The conversation he had with Moonlight yesterday about Dahlia is constantly shoving other thoughts out of the way to make room for itself. It’s all he can think about right now. Was Dahlia really trying to get him to Canterlot so he could be sold to that human trafficking ring? Or was is all just a terrible structure of events that conveniently caused everything to happen the way it did? … She never really was keen on talking about her intentions, just the execution.

Maybe Moonlight was being too cynical, and Dahlia wasn’t just looking to sell him off to get him out of her hair, AND make a bag of bits while at it. … But on the same hand, that would have been quite ingenious. She could have sold Crimson off and made some money, and to boot, she’d never have to deal with the consequences of backstabbing him. He would be far, far away from her, and she’d be gone. Gone and gone, without even a shadow left behind.

Maybe that’s why Dahlia’s lodge was so under decorated. She’s the wandering type, so it could easily be that she used that lodge as a temporary stay until she made a name for herself and left again. … But she was defending him when the guards were trying to take him away. She was actively trying to keep the two of them together, and the face she had…

“The face she had…” Crimson utters, recalling the hopelessness in her eyes as he was being dragged away by the guards. He can remember it so clearly… and it’s bothering him.

Those fucking guards that stopped them, with their prideful air and their snobby attitude. Crimson brings his arms in, sitting up straight and leaning forward a bit. His hands ball into fists while his mind calls forward the aggravating memories of that encounter... he'd beat the shit out of those guards, just to deflate their ego…

... But, with a deep exhale, his hands unclench. He slumps back into the couch, letting his sharpened eyes return to their lazy stare. As much as his aggressive side wants to take hold, he's gotten better than it. He doesn't let it control him anymore, especially since it only had a history of getting him into trouble. Bar fights, random duels in the street, and all sorts of horseshit that could have been avoided if Crimson had just stayed quiet and moved on against morons that would provoke him. Viola would constantly plea to him to learn to be calm... and that's exactly what he did. It's just... sometimes, it's hard to remain calm.

… Now that he’s thinking about it, in the way Moonlight might rationalize the situation, Dahlia’s defensiveness could be attributed to her simply not wanting her precious cargo to be stolen. Like Moonlight had said, maybe Dahlia’s plan backfired terribly, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that’s what happened…

“Crimson?”

The man’s brows raise, hearing Moonlight’s muffled voice call from upstairs.

“Crimson!?”

“Downstairs!” he shouts back, hand near his mouth for amplification.

“Oh! … Okay!”

Crimson shakes his head, grinning to himself. She sounded pretty worried there, probably scared that her beloved human might have just up and abandoned her during the night. … Maybe that’s not the best joke to make with such a soft-hearted pony, but still, the thought is amusing. It shows that she cares to some degree.

He hears Moonlight’s stepping and clanking from upstairs while she conducts her morning routine. Considering the amount of care she puts into herself, it might be a lengthy routine, but there’s no rush. Hungry as he may be, a few more minutes isn’t going to kill him. His stare stays fixated on the backyard, and just the very sight of the beautiful garden is enough to fill him with peace. Moonlight should feel proud, for it is an unmistakable work of beauty.

A few minutes later, clopping of hooves against tile floor can be heard approaching until they are muffled by carpet. Crimson tilts his head to the left, seeing Moonlight enter the living room. “Well, good afternoon,” he says facetiously.

“Good afternoon to you too,” she returns a shy smile.

“Sleep well?”

"I, um… I did. … I-I didn’t kick you or anything while you were asleep, right? I know I have a tendency to wake up on different sections of the bed, but I don’t know if I have any intrusive sleeping habits.”

Crimson scratches his left brow, pondering, “… Well, you snore pretty loud. You kicked me a few times, and you hogged the blankets. Not to mention occasional sleep-talk. I almost thought you were talking to me at a few points during the night.” Moonlight’s face becomes progressively more horrified as he continues speaking. Her pink orbs stare at him in dismay and her mouth hangs while her cheeks furiously redden.

Unable to keep a straight face for very long, Crimson closes one eye and smirks, "I’m just kiddin’.”

Moonlight gasps in awareness... then her brows furrow deeply, her lips pucker, and her chin tucks slightly while her chest puffs out.

… Dear lord, she's angry. Crimson can’t take this murderously adorable mare seriously. If this is what she looks like when she’s angry, she needs to be angry more often.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t look at me like that. I was just teasin'~"

“Hmph!” Moonlight tilts her head up, turning around and giving him her back. “I did not find it very humorous.”

“You sleep just perfect, Moonlight. I was out like a light and hardly knew you were there the entire night. Very enjoyable experience, if I do say so myself.”

“… And that isn’t you just joking?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head, still smiling at her when she turns around to look at him again. “I, uh, took the liberty of drinking water out of that pink cup you got by the sink. Hope that’s alright.”

“Of course, please help yourself to whatever you need. Did you already eat while I was asleep?”

“Nah, figured I’d wait for you to wake up before rummaging through your stuff.”

“Oh, you don't have to wait for me! I’m very sorry. W-Would you like something to eat?”

“That’d be great.”

“… Umm…” Moonlight shifts her attention to the kitchen, pondering off the top of her head what she has in stock. “… I sincerely apologize for this, but I don't have anything that would provide you with all of your required nutrients, since... humans need to eat meat.”

“Moonlight, you don't gotta apologize for everythin'. While I sure do miss a nice chicken breast, I’m fine with eatin’ from the earth.”

“… Then, how about oatmeal and fruit?”

“Sounds good.”

Moonlight timidly smiles, thankful at his compromising nature. She turns around and moves to the kitchen, seldom using her hooves for anything and opting to manipulate everything with her magic. “It’ll be a few minutes to cook the oatmeal,” she says, glancing over at the man while simultaneously pouring oats into a pot.

Crimson nods at her, witnessing her magic handling everything with precision despite not actually paying attention to it. “It fine with you f’I hang out in the yard?”

“Be my guest!” she replies gleefully.

Crimson walks to the glass door, sliding it open and stepping out to the mid-day. The fresh spring air, surprisingly not humid despite the small flowing stream in the garden, kisses his skin. He places his fists at his hips, taking in a deep breath of pristine air, then he walks towards the picnic table that sits in the grass. He sits down on it like he usually does, backwards on the bench with his elbows resting comfortably on the table.

The soothing sound of the lazy stream accompanied by birds chirping their methodical songs bring an indescribable peace. Crimson is quickly starting to realize why Moonlight might have such a hard time leaving this place, it’s so comfortable, relaxing, and familiar. He doesn’t know how many years she’s spent living here, but judging by all of the intricate little details at every corner of the house, it’s definitely more than a few. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she might not be too keen on leaving all of this behind, especially to trade it in for danger and discomfort.

… Still, Crimson knows that he’s going to need to convince her to step out somehow. Regardless of how great this all is, the real world remains outside of these cement walls, and it speaks bitterly against the fantasy that this home provides. The magical anomalies aren’t going to suddenly disappear if everyone pretends they don’t exist, or if they aren’t treated as seriously as they should be treated. Truth be told, he doesn’t know exactly how serious these anomalies are, but if they’re capable of killing trees and making animals rabid, it’s certainly a problem. Moonlight might be the only pony savvy enough to figure out what's causing the issue, if only she'd leave her home.

The glass door can be heard sliding open again, and Moonlight steps out with shifting eyes. She spots the man sitting at the table, prompting her to head his way. Crimson sees her holding two bowls with spoons in them and two glass cups in her magic, where the cups hold an orange liquid in them. She levitates a bowl and a cup to him, “Is tangerine juice okay with you?”

“Alright with me,” he says, taking both items into his hands. “You too cool for oranges or what?”

“Oranges are fine, I simply prefer tangerines.”

Crimson shrugs, taking a sip of juice before setting it down behind him and commencing war against the bowl of oats and fruit. Moonlight takes her seat next to him, sitting backwards on the bench like he is. Her forelegs remain idle as the bowl of oats continues to float, encapsulated with her sparkling pink energy. Her spoon soon follows suit, grasped by the ethereal force to bring a mass of oatmeal into her mouth.

The two enjoy their brunch quietly. Crimson’s attention shifts from thing to thing, mindlessly admiring parts of the garden as he rides random trains of thought. Moonlight keeps her eyes forward or resting on the grass… but from time to time, she discretely glances at the man while he isn’t looking. Her gaze becomes less covert when something that’s bothered her comes to the front of her mind. It starts to bug her so much that she prompts to ask, “Why do you have so many scratches and cuts, Crimson?”

The man looks at Moonlight, then down to his body and arms. He finishes chewing the food in his mouth and swallows, “I got into some trouble a little while ago, before I got nabbed by Celestia.”

“… I assume it was when you were with Dahlia?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“… Would you mind if I asked what occurred?”

“Don’t mind at all. … It wasn’t really Dahlia’s fault. We were explorin’ together, through some forest that’s next to Dodge.”

“The Everfree forest.”

“Is that what it’s called?” he asks for confirmation, to which she nods. “Right, well, the Everfree. We were about to head back to Dahlia’s lodge, and there was this cave system that we took as a shortcut. As you can probably expect, we were attacked in the cave.”

“… By humans,” Moonlight sighs.

“Yeah. They did a real number on me, the bastards. They're vicious.”

“Can you blame them? You were intruding in their home! They were just defending what was theirs.”

“… Suppose yer right.”

“And who’s bright idea was it to take a cave as a shortcut? Let me guess, Dahlia’s.”

“… Yeah.”

Moonlight huffs, setting her empty bowl down. “You could have seriously gotten hurt, Crimson. She is such a terrible influence; it makes me furious just thinking about how she used you.”

“Moonlight…” Crimson tilts his head to her, keeping his face relaxed and comfortable, “she didn’t use me. With or without me there, she’d be doing what she does regardless. It could’a ended much worse, but it didn’t, I made sure of it. Those humans could have easily torn us to shreds, but they didn’t. I made sure of it.”

Moonlight turns her dismal gaze away. “… And what if it did turn out worse? What if something terrible happened, and you didn’t make it?”

“You can conjure them what ifs all day, Moonlight, but the fact is that I survived. Ain’t that what matters?” he leans closer to her, resting his weight on his right elbow. He tilts his head to stare more directly at her face, the side that she gives him anyway. Her lips purse and she keeps her gaze away from his, unresponsive to his question. “… Moonlight.” Her eyes shift left but quickly return to their original position. “… Your oatmeal tasted amazing.”

The mare turns her head, squinting at him sourly... but due to the goofy smile stuck on his front, she can’t hold the expression for very long. Her lips quiver, breaking unwillingly into a small smile as she adjusts her glasses. “… Thank you.”

“No, thank you for the meal. All them fruits you added sat just right in my belly, and tangerine juice’s actually much tastier than I expected. I can see why you like it over boring ol’ orange.” Moonlight’s smile grows, playing with the lock of hair on the left side of her head. “Now that I’m fueled, I was wonderin’ if you had any more tests I could tackle.”

“Oh, y-yes, actually, there are a few. … Un… fortunately, they’re not as exciting as a strength test, they’re more-so measurements and statistics.”

“I’m down fer anythin’. You just say the word.”

“Great! I’ll go get some things we’ll need. You can stay here if you’d like, or come back inside if you wish. We can work out here or inside, anything you choose is fine by me.”

“Think I’ll stay out here.”

Moonlight nods, coming off of the bench while she takes all of the used dishes into her magic. She walks back into the house, sliding the door closed behind her.

There, Crimson is left alone again, but now he at least has a full stomach. He wasn't being generous when he complimented her oatmeal, it was genuinely delicious. Something about the food that this land has, whether it be his imagination or not, is exceptional. He can't speak for the carnivorous side of the food chain, but the fruits, veggies, and grains he's eaten are so good that it doesn't make sense. ... Maybe it's magic. Magic seems to be the answer for most things in this land it seems, and Moonlight using it for pretty much everything she does only serves to promote his assumption. Perhaps not a fully sound opinion, but he feels that the other races of pony certainly missed the most overpowered gene in the pool.

Now filled with energy, Crimson doesn't stay sitting down for very long after Moonlight leaves. He stands up, stretching himself left and right and rotating his neck. He had been eyeing the rock line for a while now, more specifically the three enormous boulders at the very far end. While confident he could lift them, he didn't want to do it in front of Moonlight, not because he doesn't want her looking at him, but on the off-chance that he strains himself too much, she wouldn't have to bare the emotional toil of watching him eat shit.

Crimson quickly glances between the rock line and the glass sliding door, wondering if he's in the clear to test his might. ... No sign of Moonlight in the living room or the kitchen.

"Fast," he mumbles to himself, jogging over to the third-most immense chunk of earth. He stands in front of it, the rock marked to be 404 pounds. He takes little time to respect the fact that it's half his size before he crouches down and plants his hands around the bottom of it, holding it firmly, and puffing out a breath as he lifts it off the ground. His eyes flash with golden energy and his muscles flex, giving them copious definition.

The cold chunk of stone prods its jagged edges at his chest as he holds it up successfully with little struggle. He then crouches, planting it back down onto the grass.

He inhales deeply and his eyes slowly lose their golden sheen. Before continuing to the next rock, he turns his head like a child who stole a quarter from their parent's desk, towards the glass door... still no Moonlight.

He steps over to the next rock, the second to the last, marked to weigh 523 pounds. The size difference between this rock and the previous one is shockingly stark, it stands nearly as tall as him with only a foot or-so in difference. It doesn't deter him, and in fact, the challenging size only serves to motivate him. Following standard procedure, he crouches down and clasps his arms around the bottom-middle section of the rock. His cheek presses against the side of it, and thankfully, this one is much smoother and pleasant to hold in comparison to the previous contender.

"Hhr!" he huffs, pursing his lips as he forces the rock up. His eyes resume their glowing nature and his body tenses. This rock is definitely making him try. He feels it...

He feels his Arch coursing through his veins, fueling his muscles with mountainous strength. Microscopic golden orbs in his body, each burning as bright as the sun, strap onto the fibers of his muscles, allowing them to flex, extend, and contract much more greatly than they usually could. His Arch works both willingly and autonomously, where in most cases, it is both.

To raise this huge rock several feet off the ground and hold it against his chest, he mindfully channels his Arch to increase his strength, but while he channels it, it passively performs its own duties to ensure maximum efficiency, such as automatically pocketing more oxygen in each cell in order to fuel his muscles for the task of extreme or prolonged exertion. The golden orbs shield his muscles against stress, tearing, and fatigue, but it burns energy from his body to do so, and only to the degree in which he has trained it to.

Arch, a harmonious, well-oiled machine. A astronomical gift that works under his command and as its own entity to perform feats that few can, and in rare cases, none can.

Kpf! The rock hits the grass with a muffled thud when Crimson sets it back down. He inhales again, sucking in the air that his body needs to promptly recover. He lets the breath out steadily, and his eyes slowly fade to their hazel selves. He steps to the final contender, the boulder that stands as tall as he is, marked at a weight of 631 pounds. With one quick glance to see if Moonlight is coming, he crouches back down.

"I-Impossible..." she whispers to herself, mouth hanging in stupor at the sight she is witnessing. She looks down at the backyard from the second-floor window of her bathroom, discretely spectating Crimson perform spectacles beyond the realm of what should be plausible. Her eyes widen and she gasps frivolously, watching him lift the boulder off the ground and into the air.

He stands firmly, leaning back a bit to hold it against his chest and cheek, and he holds it there for several seconds. She can see his irises radiate that hauntingly graceful energy.

Her awestruck state fades when he sets the boulder down and he gives it a pat. ... It looks like he's talking to it, giving it a few words of appreciation or something. He turns around and walks back towards the bench, but not before he shoots his curious gaze to the bathroom window. Moonlight ducks quickly, emitting an 'eep' while planting her back against the wall under the window and holding her forelegs across her chest.

Crimson stares at the window for a moment longer, then he shrugs, walking towards the bench and sitting down again. He still has some energy to kill, but he's content on just waiting for Moonlight now that he's asserted dominance over the rock line.

He glances up towards the sky, seeing the sun making its slow trail across the heavens. "... Hold on one cherry-pickin' minute..." he suddenly mutters. "... Celestia..." he squints viciously, "... moves the SUN!?"

His attention snaps towards the glass door when he hears it slide open. Moonlight steps out, carrying a few thingies in her magic. She notices his stupefied front, causing her to stare back dubiously, "... Is everything okay?"

"..." He glances upwards, then back down to her. "... Yeah, Celestia moves the sun."

"... Yes?" she looks at him as if he was speaking in tongues.

Crimson comes to realize that this occurrence is common-place in her land, making only him seem like the odd one. "It's cool, is all. ... So, uh... what'cha got there?" he asks, scratching the back of his head.

Moonlight comes to the table, setting a few articles down on it but keeping one still held in her magic. She has a clipboard and a quill in her twinkling hold, and she had set down a strange wooden box of sorts that has black rubber strings attached to it. Another item she placed down was a roll of measuring tape, and the last item being a needle. "A few items that will allow me to gauge the physical aspects of your body," she replies, but what is hard to miss is her strangely wobbly tone. "I-I hope you're not afraid of needles..."

"Terrified of them, actually."

Moonlight sighs and rolls her eyes, "Haha. Very funny. The needle should be scared of you, if anything."

Crimson snickers, "What makes you say that?"

"A few things. Stand next to me, please," she directs, standing a few feet away from the table while bringing the measuring tape into her magic. Crimson stands up from the bench with an exaggerated grunt, walking over and standing right in front of her. "Back straight, chin up, eyes forward," she demands, but her soft voice makes the directions sound more like requests.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, moving his body enthusiastically in the exact order she said. The measuring tape is levitated next to him, snapped straight and held in place.

"Six feet, seven inches," Moonlight reads out, "... unbelievable."

"Is it?"

"W-Well, yes! The tallest human ever recorded was five feet, five inches. You've beaten that by over a foot!"

"I suppose I'm a bit taller than average, people back home would compliment my height all the time."

"What is the average height of a human where you come from?"

"Well, I ain't no anthropologist or nothin', but most folks I've met gauge around five-foot-ten for men, 'n five-foot-seven for women. 'Course, people were taller or shorter on occasion, but it's kinda the 'catch-all.'"

"You beat even your own species in height! In regards to humans on Equestria and the humans from your world, your height is baffling!"

"You think I'm tall? If you want tall, you should'a seen my brother 'n my father. Now THEY were tall. Them bastards were nearly seven feet tall, just an inch short of it."

"... Woaa!" Moonlight's eyes glimmer in awe. "Six feet, eleven inches... imagine."

"Yeah, they were quite somethin', alright. ... So, uh, what's next?"

"Oh, um," Moonlight's gaze returns to the world, blinking twice, "... this."

"Gy-woh!" Crimson's eyes widen when his feet suddenly lift off the ground, feeling his body tingling at the encapsulation of her pink aura. Moonlight's eyes squint and she sticks her tongue out in thought, holding him in the air effortlessly.

After a moment, she sets him back down onto his feet carefully. "V-Very sorry," she murmurs while writing into her clipboard.

"That was somethin'."

"You weigh two-hundred and two pounds," she states while scribbling.

"... How the hell did you figure that out?"

"It was an educated guess, but I'm happy to hear that I was correct."

"Hot damn. I mean, it's been a while since I've been on a scale, but you guessed my weight just by holdin' me in yer magic?"

"It's a skill I learned over time."

"I'm more surprised you can even feel my weight, you picked me up like if I was nothin'."

"Of course. Things don't become weightless when manipulated by magic."

"... Huh," he brings his index finger to his chin. "... But I reckon you aren't using your body to lift heavy stuff up."

"Indeed. I'm using..." she stops speaking and writing simultaneously, "... H-Hey, what is that supposed to mean?"

Crimson's eyes widen at her flustering, "Hoho, Moonlight, c'mon now, I didn't mean it like that. It was an innocent question, I swear."

"No, no, be honest. I know what you meant, I'm not dumb."

"Moonlight," Crimson places his hands at his hips, staring softly at her pouting front. "Don't think for a second I wanted to slide a low-blow at'cha. ... On the contrary, I think yer kind of cute just as you are right now." Her eyes dilate to pen pricks at his words. "Seriously, I was just assumin' holdin' stuff with yer magic wasn't the same as physically pickin' stuff up."

Moonlight clears the frog in her throat, gathering some mental pieces before she speaks up, "Y-Your assumption i-is correct, yes. M-Magic, um... you... it works differently by..." she stops again, staring at the grass. "... D-Do you really think I'm... cute?"

Crimson nods, smiling warmly. "Wouldn't have said it if it weren't true."

"... Eheh... Um..." the items in her magical hold suddenly give way when her horn sparks out and the aura surrounding the items fades away. She gasps as everything falls to the grass, her face reddening terribly while she forces her horn to ignite again and pick everything up.

Crimson witnesses this with peak amusement, keeping himself from further egging on her adorable shyness. "I think I figured it out. Magic works based on focus, don't it?"

"... Focus," Moonlight repeats and nods, shaking a small amount of dirt off of her clipboard, "mental focus... t-that's how magic works. T-The stronger your mental focus, the stronger your magic is."

"A very straight-forward concept."

"..." Her eyes are refusing to stare back at him, but she continues speaking. "... Is... is that how Arch works?"

The question takes Crimson by surprise, causing him to fall into thought. "Eeh... kind of. A part of it is mental focus, but a big part of it is mental fortitude." Moonlight appears hugely curious, signaled by her ears standing tall. "See, Arch Angels are kind of counter-productive in the sense that--"

"Arch Angels~" Moonlight coos, accidentally vocalizing her adoration for the title. "Mh! S-Sorry, please, continue!"

He smiles at her, waving his hand dismissively to show he doesn't mind. " ... Where was I, uh... ah. Right. Arch Angels. That's what I am. I should have asked my dad when I had the chance, but I've got no idea where that name actually comes from. I reckon it has to do with what I look like when my Arch is manifested. As I was sayin', Arch Angels are counter-productive in the sense that our Arch hurts us. It doesn't hurt us on purpose, but more-so as collateral damage. When channeling my Arch, it forces my body to perform above and beyond my limit, which is useful, but in turn, it causes me pain to varying degrees. Whether I'm able to put up with the pain and keep channeling my Arch is what determines how far I can push it."

"... Magic can do the same thing if treated lightly. While focus is a big part of magic, one's will comes in to play as well. I... wouldn't compare it to the extent of your Arch, but unicorns can experience mental and bodily anguish if we overdo our magical abilities. Headaches, migraines, nose-bleeds..."

"Huh. Guessin' Arch and magic ain't too different after all. Reckon the only difference is that magic is trained fully in the mind, but Arch is like a muscle. The more you use it and the more it hurts you, the better it gets and you deal with pain better," he says, raising his left brow as he sees Moonlight scribbling into her clipboard. "... You writin' all of this down?"

"Yes! It's too fascinating not to!" She lowers the clipboard, smiling up at his skeptical front. Her smile wavers at the look on his face. "... It is okay if I write this down, right?"

"Feel free. Doesn't bother me. Just surprised that you're this into it."

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" she exclaims as she writes again. "You had said that you didn't know the origins of the term Arch Angel, but you went to say that your physical appearance gives clues as to why you might call it that. Does your appearance change upon channeling Arch?"

"Yeah. It depends on how hard I'm doin' it though. You've already seen one part of it, my eyes. Not sure if you've ever heard the saying, 'the eyes are the windows to the soul.' When channeling Arch, I can feel this... weird burn deep down inside of me, like if my soul was on fire. The facts of it might be less abstract than that, but that's my take on it. Maybe the change in my eyes is due to somethin' else more science-like, but I wouldn't know. Anyways, other changes are more drastic, like being able to form wings and stuff."

"Wings?" she repeats excitedly. "Could... could I have a demonstration?" Crimson purses his lips and scratches the back of his head, looking away unsurely. Moonlight is quick to get the hint, lowering her head to give herself less height. "Y-You do not have to if you do not want to..."

"It's not that I don't want to, I'd be glad to demonstrate fer you... it's just, using that much energy to charge my Arch really takes a lot outta me. Like I said before, it's varying degrees. I can do most of my Arch stuff without them wings appearin', that's more of a 'drastic measure' type thing. I've only ever done it when it's really necessary."

"... Like when it gets really dangerous?"

"Exactly. If someone or somethin' is in trouble, you best believe I'll use every part of me to keep 'em safe. Even when I first got to Equestria and my Arch was actin' screwy, it still managed to do what I trained it to do, albeit to a lesser extent."

Crimson sees the contemplative air that Moonlight is now taking. She's internalizing his words, just the way wanted her to. He smiles down at the thoughtful mare, seeing that he incited the exact reaction he wanted. "Moonlight." She remains gazing at the grass near his feet. "Moonlight, look at me." It takes a brief struggle with herself to do what he asks, but she warily does so. "... I wasn't lyin' when I said I'd keep you safe if we went after the anomalies. If things get real dangerous, I'll be there to protect you."

"It... it isn't that I don't believe you couldn't protect me," Moonlight turns her gaze away, "... I know you can. I saw how easily you lifted the really big rocks earlier."

"You saw that?" Crimson asks bashfully.

She nods, "I believe in you, Crimson. ... I just... don't believe in me."

"That makes one of us. ... Moonlight, you're intelligent, you're wise, and you've got a leveled head on your shoulders. If there's anyone out there that can get the job done, and get it done right, it's you."

"... But, I..." Moonlight begins, but fails to keep speaking despite Crimson waiting for her to continue speaking.

"This house," Crimson crouches down, coming just above eye-level with her, "is beautiful. All the love and care you put into it is amazin'. It's worth protecting, and I don't think you can do that by stayin' here. The way you feel about yer home, that's how I feel about you. You're worth protecting, and I can't do that if you won't take a leap of faith. I believe in you wholeheartedly, even if you don't believe in yourself."

Moonlight, stuck in her silence, feels a burdening weight inside of her. The growing despondency on her face displays the small crack in her shell, the one that he needed to finally break it open. He reaches forward, cupping her cheek into his hand. She squints at his touch, breathing unsteadily from the emotion welling in her chest.

Gently caressing her cheek with his thumb, he smiles at her, a smile which peels off the hardest layer of her indecision.

Moonlight steps forward, burying herself into his left shoulder. Crimson quickly returns the embrace and hugs her closely. The sounds of birds chirping, the gentle jingle of the wind chimes near the glass door, and the soothing sound of gently flowing water. They remain together for an uncounted length of time, encompassed by the whispers of nature.

"... Want to finish up those tests?" Crimson murmurs.

"... I would love to."

Crimson lays in bed, hands behind his head with one knee arched. He stares at the ceiling in silence, listening to Moonlight's quill scribbling over a piece of parchment. Moonlight herself sits at her desk, where she is writing a formal letter to Celestia. She constantly scrutinizes it to see if she made a mistake, then continues writing. After some more quiet writing, she sits back and releases a yawn, patting her muzzle gently with her hoof.

"Done, I reckon?" Crimson asks, still looking at the ceiling.

"Mhm. Hopefully she gets back to me soon... it's been quite a while since I last wrote her a letter. I was very surprised she remembered my request for a human. ... I hope she doesn't think ill of me."

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised you 'n the princess have a history, you bein' in her research squad 'n all."

"Indeed... she always had high expectations of me. I trained under her wing after university, and I was placed at the Head Researcher for the Royal Research team. It was a great experience, and Celestia and I grew close to each other... but I left Canterlot. I wanted to distance myself from everything there... and unfortunately, that meant her as well. She still wrote me letters after I left, and I wrote to her back... but at some point, I stopped bothering."

"Why'd you leave Canterlot if things were goin' so well?"

"I... just wanted some space... now, here I am, actually thinking of heading back after all of these years. This is such a horrible idea..."

"Moonlight, it ain't a horrible idea. It's the only place you and I know that could help out with the research on them anomalies. Even if goin' to Canterlot turns out to be bad idea, it's my idea, so you can blame me if things don't go well."

"How encouraging."

"You know me," Crimson says, tilting his head to look at Moonlight. "Besides, I'm sure Celestia ain't upset, she spoke highly of you."

"I hope so," Moonlight encases the letter with her magic, tying it closed with a red string. "If I am being truthful, I don't think I could meet her face to face if she was... angry at me."

"She ain't, and I'd bet good money that she'd love to see you again."

"... Well," she eyes the rolled up scroll distastefully, "... here goes everything." Her horn glows with its pink aura, and with a poof, the scroll is blinked out of existence.

"Woah," Crimson sits up. "... Did you really send that letter to Canterlot?" Moonlight nods in response. "Holy shit. It's really that easy?"

"N-No, it's actually quite complicated. Send-scroll spells are very difficult to master, especially when the distance is vast."

"But you just sent it like if it was nothin'."

"As a Royal Researcher, I've had many years of practice..."

"... Huh. Guess I can't argue with that." Crimson catches Moonlight yawn again, causing him to sigh through his nose subconsciously. "Time for bed, I reckon."

She nods, finishing her yawn. "It may take a while for us to get a response, depending on how busy she is. With everything that has been happening, I'm almost certain it will be a few days... maybe longer when she realizes it's from me..."

"C'mon, you silly filly. Don't be your own worst enemy." Crimson moves the blankets on the other side of the bed, leaving the bed open and ready for her to lay down. Moonlight downheartedly gets up from her desk, taking her glasses off and levitating them to her nightstand. She shuffles into bed and covers herself up with the blankets, sighing deeply. She shuffles around and turns onto her side, facing Crimson. He is still on his back, resting with his hands behind his head. His eyes are closed, but upon Moonlight gazing over to him, he smiles. "G'night, Moonlight."

She snuggles into her sheets, covering her muzzle with them to only leave her eyes revealed. "... Goodnight, Crimson."

Knock, knock, knock.

Crimson's eyes pry open at the sound of fairly forceful knocking. He sits up and rubs his left eye, listening again for the sound.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

"Hnn," Moonlight moans, turning onto her back from her side. Her sleepy eyes barely open, staring forward blankly. "... What is that?" she murmurs in her barely-waking state. "Did another deer get in?"

Crimson furrows his brows at her outlandish assumption. "... Deer? I think someone's at the door, Moonlight."

"... The door?" she slowly sits up... then her eyelids break open in realization. "The door!? Somepony's at my door!?"

"That's what I reckon," Crimson says as he stands up from bed, leaning over it to push the semi-translucent blue curtains that drape over the circular window. He peeks through it, discretely looking down to the front porch of the house.

"Why would anypony be at my door? No one ever visits me," she worriedly whispers as she levitates her glasses to herself, getting them on and adjusting them with her hoof. "Except for maybe the mail mare, but she never knocks, she always leaves my mail inside the box."

"Huh. They look like the guard ponies from Canterlot," he scratches his head. "They've got a wagon 'n everything. I thought you said it would take a few days to even get a response, let alone an escort."

"W-What do you mean?"

"Take a look fer yerself."

Moonlight gets up, stumbling on the bed to move towards Crimson. She leans her head next to his, peeking out to see exactly what he had described. Four blocky pegasus stallions donning golden armor stand at the front of her house, where one stallion has unstrapped himself from the silver and gold-etched carriage they have with them in order to knock on the door. Moonlight retracts from the window, whispering to herself, "They're here already!?"

"Heh yeah, these guys got here quick. Must'a left before the sun was even up to arrive this early." Crimson retreats from the window and smiles at the frowning unicorn. "Maybe Celestia got yer letter and was loads-excited to hear from you again. I wouldn't put it past her that she deployed an escort the minute she could."

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

"B-B-But... now!? She wants me to come back now!?"

"I reckon that's why them ponies are here."

"... I'm not ready for this," she states, rearing away from the window while staring into the void.

"Of course you are. Even if you don't believe in yourself, I believe in you, Moonlight."

Lacking a response, Moonlight's muzzle scrunches and she climbs off the bed, trotting hastily towards her desk. She opens the bottom right drawer and levitates a navy-blue cloth out. Crimson quickly realizes it's a hood and cloak once she gets it on herself, and it covers her entire body, save for the ends of her hooves and tail. There's even a little hole at the top of the hood for her horn to come out of. Everything about the garb is inconspicuous, it shades over her eyes and hides her form very well.

Now, she stands there, facing the door to her room, rooted in anxiety.

"... Moonlight." Crimson reaches over, pulling the hood up then back to reveal her face again.

"... I'm not ready for this," Moonlight looks up to meet his unenthused face, becoming more bashful under his stare.

Crimson smiles, crouching down to be nearly at eye-level with her. He brings her in for a hug, wrapping his hands around the back of her neck and head. "You're more than ready for this. I'll be with you every step of the way."

Moonlight rests her chin on his shoulder and closes her eyes tightly, flooded by the same tingling sensation that she swore overtook her yesterday evening. It mixes oddly in her mind, the terrible anxiety she is feeling actively combats the comfort she is receiving.

Knock, knock, knock, "Miss Wish, are you home?" calls a stern, grumbling voice from the outside of the front door.

Their hug is cut short, having to respond to the demanding press of the guard pony. The duo break from each other, with Moonlight staring up at the man with complete uncertainty.

Crimson steps aside, lifting his hand towards the door to gesture for her to proceed. Reluctantly, she exits the bedroom and makes her way downstairs to the front door, skipping any morning routines that she would much rather get done. Crimson follows behind her, stopping at her side when she opens the front door with her magic. She cautiously glances left and right, stepping out into the blue-hued morning. The sun is just now rising over the horizon, poking out from the sea that lies a few meters out from the front of Moonlight's home.

The guard who has been knocking stands firm with a deadly-serious face, and he looks at Moonlight when she presents herself at the door. His eyes slowly slide towards the tall human that stands just behind her... and his face actively keeps from contorting in judgement, marked by the twitching of his eyebrows. After a momentary glare, he returns his gaze to Moonlight, bowing his head and closing his eyes with great respect, "Miss Wish."

"Good-- Good morning... sir," Moonlight responds awkwardly, looking between him and the other three guards staring over with their stone-cold faces.

"At your command, Miss Wish, we shall escort you back to Canterlot."

His words ring in her ears... they're really here to take her back to Canterlot, the place that she's spent years avoiding. Her ears fall to her head and she fails to respond again, taking the same disquieted look she had in her room.

"Hey," Crimson leans in and murmurs behind her, causing the guards to recoil like springs at the sound of his voice. "... Whatever happens, I've got your back."

Moonlight's eyes lift to see the addlement in the guards. Crimson speaking caused their stern, hard-ass expressions to hit the ground faster than a stalling plane, which brings a small smile to her lips, but it quickly fades as if it never happened.

"... Hoooly shit!" a guard attached to the carriage cries out. "The human can talk!"

"Can it, corporal," the guard in front of Moonlight scowls.

"... Should I... pack my things?" Moonlight asks, turning her face away from the guard.

"No, ma'am, not necessary. Princess Celestia instructed us to relay that she shall equate you with everything. Your belongings will stay here, you must only bring yourself."

Moonlight looks back at Crimson warily, to which he nods with a smile. While the mare finds some semblance of solace in his expression, the guards are further repressed from their comfort by his facial flexing. Moonlight looks back to the guards with furrowed brows, "What about my home? I completely forgot about it when I wrote my letter to Celestia... I can't just abandon it."

"Princess Celestia instructed us to relay that she will routinely deploy a team of maids to tend to your home while you are absent."

"Huh, she really thought of everythin', didn't she?" Crimson muses, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course, his comment draws more sour stares from the guards.

"... It shouldn't come as a surprise," Moonlight sighs, "Celestia is a very thorough pony. Nothing gets past her... unfortunately. ... Ahem, mh, s-should we... board the carriage then?"

"If you and your human are ready to return to Canterlot, then please do so, Miss Wish," the guard responds without moving an inch of his body.

"'Yer human?'" Crimson repeats critically, taking one step towards the guard. The guard snaps his attention to him, shifting to a defensive posture instantly. The rest of the guards appear just as ready for confrontation as their comrade. "I ain't a dog, friend. Best keep that in mind."

"I highly advise you to watch your mouth, human," the guard snarls.

"P-Please," Moonlight gulps, "he-he's not my property, address him as you would anypony else."

The group of tense guards gawk at the man as he himself returns a sharp stare... but shortly after Moonlight's words, the guards resume their stoic posture, and the stallion in front of her bows his head, "Of course, Miss Wish. We beg your pardon."

Moonlight exhales deeply, letting her eyes and ears drop while feeling the rhythm of her unsettled heart beat like a drum. "... Why am I doing this," she whispers solemnly, walking towards the carriage. Crimson's worry for her well-being is prominent on his face, gazing at her while he follows.

The unhinged guard stallion trots with haste towards the carriage, extending an attachment at the side of it to drop a fold-in staircase. Appearing familiar with this process already, Moonlight uses the steps without a second thought, taking them one by one until she boards and sits on the left seat.

Crimson skips the stairs, opting for grabbing the side of the carriage and leaping in. Though no damage is done to the carriage, it shakes left and right under his weight, and the guards don't look very impressed. He sits next to Moonlight, taking the middle and right seat at the same time due to his size.

Once boarded, the stallion slides the fold-in staircase back into its slot then heads back to hitch himself into the carriage reins. "The trip will estimate around three hours," he calls without looking back. "Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Wish. At your command, we will return to Canterlot."

"..." Moonlight looks to the left, off the side of the carriage and away from Crimson. It is as if she knew he'd try to give her a smile or some sort of reassurance, but she chooses to look away. With a wobbly sigh, she slouches back into the carriage seat. "... Please proceed."

"Wings at the ready," the guard commands his team, and the four of them extend their powerful feathered appendages. "Forward." The carriage is pulled by the strength of these burly pegasi once they begin running across the straight dirt road in front of Moonlight's home. They flap their wings en-cadence as they run faster and faster, until finally, they lift off the ground and soar into the air. They make a wide u-turn in order to fixate themselves onto a path towards the city on the mountain.

Even from out here, miles and miles away, Crimson can see it presenting its unmistakable silhouette. It's positioned so perfectly on that mountain-side, he assumes you can probably see it from any point in Equestria.

He looks towards Moonlight again... she's still looking away, mulling in her disquiet. He assumed from the start that she was the socially wary type, but it wasn't prominent until now. Her anxiety didn't show itself very much before, she was probably doing well against it because she was in her home, and it didn't take her very long to become 'comfortable' around him. These factors had led him to believe her angst wasn't as bad as he initially thought... but it might be worse. It might actually be a lot worse than he thought, and it might get even worse now that she's heading back to the dreaded city of marble and gold.

... Maybe this was a bit too early. Maybe she did need a few days of mental space before this happened... but it's too late now. They're already on route to Canterlot, to whatever it is that waits for them there. This was Crimson's idea, and to him, it certainly isn't a bad one. There's plenty of ponies and resources that could help them better understand the magical anomalies, and hopefully, find a way to deal with them.

He isn't sure about the social sphere in Canterlot, but judging by both Dahlia's and Moonlight's reaction to it... maybe it's not very great. ... Whatever, it's too late. If there's social issues there, which he hopes there are none, he'll be sure to deal with them swiftly. It's the same routine he's done for most of his life, especially since he was in a gang where social issues were abundant.

Moonlight made it a point to tell Celestia in her letter that Crimson was an intelligent human, so hopefully there won't be any surprises there. It should just be a matter of standing before the princess, making it clear that they've arrived, and getting situated. He might need to rent out a place in the city, and Moonlight is probably going to stay somewhere in the castle since that's where she previously had a room, but with any luck, they should be able to get researching on the anomalies by tomorrow.

They've got a few hours till they reach their destination, so he figures he might as well relax. Moonlight seems to be doing that already since she's dozing in and out from how sleepy she is. Crimson crosses his arms and leans back into the seats, looking off to the distant horizon with his mind on overtime.

After some time spent soaring through the skies, Moonlight had fallen back to sleep. She had woken up much earlier than she usually does due to the unanticipated arrival of the royal guards, so it came back at her full-force after they had began their trip. It worried Crimson for a while, he had feared that she might fall off of the carriage due to her random movements, or because the carriage might have tilted and tossed her off. Luckily, nothing has happened, almost as if she was magically bound to the seat somehow. She's sound asleep, looking much better this way than she did while awake hours ago. Maybe sleep is what she needed in order to ease the nerves... hopefully.

Crimson's attention shifts to the city they are closing in on. The amount of movement and bustling going on surprises him, he doesn't remember Canterlot being nearly this busy when he first came here.

Carriages, both grounded and flying, are found everywhere, moving ponies from place to place. There's lots of ponies entering and exiting buildings, walking along the sidewalk, and generally being. Maybe today's a special occasion or something, but there's nothing around that can obviously point it out, so maybe he's wrong, and this is just how busy Canterlot gets.

The pegasi flying the cart slowly yaw, turning widely in order to change directions towards the castle. Crimson's brows raise, again impressed by the greatness of the Canterlot castle. As they close in on it from above, he admires every nook and cranny that it has, with floors upon floors, balconies and watchtowers littered throughout, and many bridges that connect some parts of the castle to others. Now that he can properly admire the scenery, he's making very sure to do so.

They fly down towards the front of the castle, prepping to make a landing on the grass next to the massive golden doors that enter it. As they make their descent, Crimson reaches over and places his hand on Moonlight's head, gently stroking her mane. With a quiet moan, she shuffles in place and opens her eyes. He pulls his hand away as she sits up, and her eyes lock onto him first before glancing around at her surroundings. Then, in an overbearing wave of pure dread, her pupils dilate to pin pricks. "... We're here already?" Her horn glows, using her magic to slip the hood from her robe back onto her head.

"C'mon now, Moonlight, you're gonna be fine," Crimson assures. She doesn't respond to his soothing words, and instead she keeps her head tilted down, hiding herself under the floppy hood of her robe.

With a sigh, Crimson sits up and turns his head forward when the carriage makes its soft landing on the grass. The guard stallions that have pulled them continuously for almost four hours are exhausted, but they still stand proud and serious. For acting like hardasses, Crimson can appreciate that they're at least good at their job.

The stallions unhinge themselves from the reins, and the leader of the squad comes around to pull the staircase out from the side he sits.

As the guard gets the staircase down, Crimson notices that there's quite a lot of ponies around the castle, even if it is bordered off from the rest of the city. There's a huge garden next to the castle that seems to span for a mile, and a bunch of garden-working ponies that are supposed to be tending to it are staring at him. The guards that patrol the front of the castle, and some that are simply wandering about, all focus their eyes on him and Moonlight.

Adding even more spectators, there are some maid-looking ponies and high-class-attire-wearing fancy ponies standing around, and they're all staring. Every single one. He doesn't feel as if he's exaggerating either, they're all looking at him and Moonlight, wide-eyed, mouth-agape, willingly interrupting their daily lives to scope in on the scene before them. The staring here is monumentally worse than the staring he got at Dodge. He can hear some of the whispers coming from the many mouths speaking at once...

"Who is that?"

"A researcher's scribe perhaps."

"Do you think they work for the Head Researcher?"

"Impossible. Haven't you heard the rumor going about?"

"Wait! Look! What is that thing next to the scribe?"

"Are your eyes dysfunctional? That is clearly a human."

"What is a human doing inside the castle walls!?"

"Hm, that human actually appears familiar to me. ... Where have I seen it before?"

Once the stairs are set down, Moonlight stands from her seat, prompting Crimson to do the same. The man leaps down without taking the stairs, landing next to the guard stallion.

Slightly repulsed, the stallion takes a few steps back and keeps his focus on the hooded unicorn. "Would you like an escort?" he asks her with humbleness.

Unresponsive, Moonlight takes the staircase down by herself, keeping her posture discrete. She stops at the guard's side, whispering without looking up, "No. Thank you. I'll walk to the throne room by myself." She slightly turns her head, motioning towards Crimson, "Follow me." She begins walking instantly after, making him follow behind her without further instruction.

The eyes of ponies around follow them every step of the way. The weight of their stares, despite shielded by a layer of cloth, press down on the blue unicorn heavily. She can hear their whispers, their assumptions and judgement, but luckily none of them seem to be the wiser. Most of the attention is being deflected towards the lumbering man, which he doesn't really seem bothered by. He walks behind Moonlight, keeping his face forward as she leads him.

Two guards posted at the front entrance to the castle scrutinize him as they proceed inside. The mumbles of the spectators drowns away upon entering the castle, where they enter a grand lobby. A single mare is posted at a wide desk at the far end, with staircases on either side that lead up to somewhere. There's also large golden doors to the left and the right, which also lead somewhere unknown to him.

The desk receptionist keeps her eyes planted on the duo as they move quietly across the lobby. Moonlight walks towards the staircase to the right of the receptionist, taking each step slowly and carefully, effectively making the dense silence and the staring of the receptionist harder to endure.

Crimson shifts his eyes towards the gawking mare behind the desk, lifting his left brow at her. Her expression distorts uncomfortably when punched by his stare. She moves her eyes from the scrolls down at her desk to the man a few times before leaving them locked on him. The face she's making is that akin to a person being accused of a crime they committed, she looks terrified.

Finally making it up the stairs, Moonlight continues her trial through a greathall at the top. This hallway is just like the one he remembers Celestia leading him through, but only in structure. This is definitely a different place in the castle, which he assumes because both sides of this hallway have beautiful stained-glass windows rather than just one. This hallway appears to be a connector that forks off into three more directions.

Soon enough, Crimson loses his sense of direction in the maze that is this humongous castle, so he opts for admiring his surroundings, walking behind Moonlight and mindlessly taking her gracious lead.

They don't share a word the whole walk, but he certain it's for the best... well, her best. She had whispered to him and the carriage pony after getting off, making it abundantly clear she doesn't want to overtly use her voice. She's hiding under that silk robe, gathering questioning glances from ponies around. Roaming or posted guards, maids, other custodian types, and ponies of class, they're everywhere in the castle... and Moonlight probably knew that already.

Crimson is moving to the assumption that she doesn't want anyone to know who she is, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to him. She's the Head Researcher, she has a respected position in this city-- no, this country. Why would she ever need to hide? It's not like she's committed a crime or anything of that nature. Maybe she just doesn't like the attention. Being an esteemed part of the most important society in Equestria probably comes with a lot of eyes following your every move.

He'll mull only to himself for now. Moonlight is leading him towards the end of another hallway, but this time, the embellished door that greets them stands testament to what it houses, the throne room.

She approaches the door, moving to open it herself, but she flinches in fear when the two guards posted at the sides cross their spears to block her path.

"Who goes there?" the guard questions fiercely, glancing between the tall man and the hooded pony. Both Crimson and Moonlight respond non-verbally, with the man balling his hands into fists and the trepid mare moving to lift her hood slightly to reveal one shimmering eye. The guard's eyes open widely in cognizance, "... Head... Head Researcher Wish? Is that really you?"

"Shh!" she sounds suddenly, looking around for anyone that could have heard him.

"I-err, eh..." the guard in gold looks over to his partner in silver armor, who is equally befuddled. They lift their spears back to their sides and bow their heads, "many pardons, Head Researcher W--"

"Shh!" Moonlight leans forward, staring at him with her trembling pink orb through her glasses.

The guard swallows and nods, visibly disoriented by Moonlight's demeanor. Without further question, he uses his horn to grasp the extravagant door behind him, opening it wide for her entry.

Moonlight's can see her, sitting atop of her throne there at her lonesome at the far end of the room. Celestia is eyeing her back, motionless save for slow blinking, waiting patiently for their incoming interaction. Moonlight's lips tremble and her head lowers, letting the hood fall back down over her face completely.

With one cautious step into the throne room, she makes her way in with Crimson following behind. No matter how low she keeps her head, no matter how she tries to hide herself, she feels the eyes of the princess staring right through her hood.

Soon enough, the duo stand before the young ruler of Equestria without uttering a word. Celestia's calm gaze shifts between both of them, but finally stops on Moonlight. The tension Crimson feels in this very moment is cumbersome, despite being ignorant to the history between the two of them. Moonlight's unwillingness to look up and meet Celestia's eyes speaks volumes even though the unicorn herself says nothing.

Finally, Moonlight's trembling forelegs bend, bowing down to the princess on the throne. Crimson sees this and elects to do the same, coming down onto his left knee and lowering his head.

Silence. No response from the princess. The duo keep their heads bowed, unseeing to Celestia's reaction. Instead, they hear her, listening to the sound of her rising from her throne and make slow, paced steps down the staircase of her throne. The muffled clack of her golden slippers against the carpet draws closer, until Crimson sees her hooves appear at the top of his peripheral vision.

"Rise, my subjects," she calls compassionately. Her voice sounds anything but upset or unnerved, the complete opposite of Moonlight.

Crimson lifts his head and stands up, resuming his full height over the princess, yet Moonlight remains bowed, muzzle towards the ground. Both Crimson and Celestia look at Moonlight, seeing her body shivering under the robe that covers her.

Celestia shifts her attention to the man, driving him to look back at her. Her irises, the radiant pink color that they contain, remind him somewhat of Moonlight's. The princess's face is easy and calm, but the shine in her eyes advocates solemness towards the mare who can't even look at her. Crimson reads it fully, glancing quickly at Moonlight before looking back at her.

These two ponies need some alone time, and that's exactly what he'll give them. He takes a few steps backwards, smiling at Celestia, and in turn, receiving a smile from her. That smile of hers is all he needs to let him know that she's aware of his sentience, so there's no need for his interruption right now.

After taking a few steps back, he turns around and walks along the red carpet towards the exit of the throne room, pushing the large, cold golden door open and stepping out, making sure to close it gently behind himself. The guards move their eyes to him, and with prudence, they turn their heads.

Crimson glances between both of them, putting his hands in his pockets and smirking, "Howdy."

The guards trade glances with one-another, conceding their confusion through their unspoken exchange, then move their furrowed stare at the human.

Crimson crosses his arms, looking between them boredly. “Not ones for greetings?” he asks sarcastically to the silent shields of the throne room door, and again, they do not reply. Instead, they set their sights forward as they return to their stagnant posture of attention. “Hmm,” Crimson muses as he strides forward and turns around, shifting his eyes between both guards.

He scrutinizes both of them briefly, they’ve got that hard-ass attitude that he’s coming to know the Guard for. He catches that the guard on his left is an orange pegasus stallion with yellow eyes, and seen from his short-cut tail, white hair as well. He is wearing silver armor with golden details, and the crest on his helmet is white. Interestingly, his facial expression isn’t as severe as his comrade's, it even comes off kind of relaxed. The other guard to the right is a unicorn stallion wearing pure gold armor with a red crest.

“So which one of you two gets a bigger pay? I reckon it’s you in the gold. Gold nets more money, don’t it?” As expected, neither of them respond to him. “… Well, it’s yer lucky day, Goldilocks,” he says as he walks towards the gold-armored stallion. He stands before the guard, absorbing his entire field of vision. The other stallion in silver armor shifts his eyes to watch. "I'm willin' to bet I can get'cha to laugh."

“Unwanted physical contact with another individual is considered assault, human,” the guard in gold aggressively blurts.

Raising his brows in amusement, Crimson squats down, leveling his face with the stallion's. “Oho, I wasn't gonna tickle you or nothin', that's cheatin'. I was gonna do this.” He brings his right hand up to his face, pressing the nail of his middle finger against his thumb as if he was gonna flick something. His mouth forms a closed ‘o,’ and as soon as it does, he flicks his cheek and opens his mouth, causing an obnoxiously loud ‘puoah’ to resonate. The stallion flinches back slightly at the sound, and Crimson exhales sharply through his nose, smirking cheekily. “That was cool, right? It’s like a water droplet or some shit. Should I do it again?”

The guard stallion fixes his posture and huffs, returning to his preserved stance.

“That don’t sound like a no to me,” Crimson forms his mouth into a closed ‘o’ again and brings his flicking hand towards his cheek.

“Cease immediately,” the guard commands sternly.

“…” Crimson holds his hand next to his cheek. “…?”

“…” The guard squints.

…

… Puoah

“Hrrh,” the guard leans forward, tilting his spear towards Crimson slightly.

The man moves back and lifts his hands, “Alright, alright. The water droplet ain’t yer fancy, I get it. ... Mmm… what about acrobatics? You like acrobatics?”

The guard says nothing, returning his spear to its perfectly vertical position.

“Get a load’a this. This used to make my sister laugh every time.” Crimson steps back a few paces and turns around, giving the guard his back. He lifts his hands into the air, palm up, then leans forward and brings his legs up, kicking into a handstand. He balances himself artfully, tucking his head down to his chest to stare at the guard upside down. "I'd turn my world around, just... four... you," he crosses his legs to form the number four, then he extends his right leg forward, pointing his foot at the guard. The gold-armored stallion seldom entertains the performance. "Damn," Crimson smirks. "Thought I'd get you that time. You're pretty good at keepin' that face. I think that merits a round of applause," he says as he begins to clap the soles of his feet together.

The gold-armored stallion's lip quivers briefly, but his front fortifies itself again. "... Gah, almost had ya'," Crimson says psudo-despondently. "... What about this." He tilts his right leg forward, leaving his foot hanging a few inches from the gold-armored guard's face, and he begins to wiggle his toes. The guard purses his lips and tilts his head away in disgust.

To the surprise of both Crimson and the guard, an audible snicker comes from the stallion in silver armor. “Hmn?” Crimson stops wiggling his toes, bringing his right leg back up. He looks over to the silver-armored guard, seeing that he has a fairly wide smirk on his face. Crimson proceeds to handstand walk like some sort of eldritch entity towards the snickering stallion, handstanding right in front of him. “Is there somethin’ funny, partner?”

The silver-guard chuckles with his mouth closed, failing to keep a straight face in the presence of whatever the hell this man is currently doing. He looks down slightly to meet Crimson's blood-rushed face. “You should join the circus, ya’ bogan.”

"Is that a compliment?"

"You'd make it big in the industry with your talent."

Crimson grins, "I'll take that as a compliment then."

"You're an odd one, mate. You's the only talkin' human we've heard of, 'n you're a fuckin' clown."

"A funny one or one of them creepy ones that stalk children?"

"Definitely the funny one."

“Really now,” Crimson says in surprise. He drops his legs forward, landing back onto his feet and standing straight up, then he turns himself around to face the silver-armored guard again. "Well color me impressed. I thought you pony guards were all museum pieces like that fella over there,” he points his right thumb to the guard in golden armor, who is currently looking over in spite. “I’m surprised to see you’ve got a sense of humor, rookie.”

The silver-guard’s smile doesn’t waver as he shakes his head, “Nah, mate. Rookie’s that lad over thea. Gold’s standard enlisted guard armor. I lead them wankas when Captain or First ain’t around.”

“You didn’t bother correctin’ me when I assumed Green-As-Grass over there was above you.”

“I am not green,” the golden-guard growls at Crimson, “I’ve been enlisted for a year and a half. If I was green, I wouldn’t have the privilege of Throne Watcher, a privilege that Second Lieutenant takes too lightly,” his scraggly voice resonates through the halls of the castle.

“Oy, pipe down, ya’ mongrel,” the silver-guard furrows his brows at him. “Don’t need Princess hearin’ up on us now.”

The golden-guard mumbles something under his breath and looks forward, gripping his pike more firmly.

The silver-guard returns his attention to the man, grinning again, “'N why’d I correct you ‘n give the chance for some entertainment away? Keepin’ me mouth shut let ol’ Corporal there get the hecklin’. Gotta say, he needs some work on keepin’ his cool.”

The golden-guard rolls his eyes.

“Can’t be too hard on ‘im,” the silver-guard shrugs, “it’s his first week in stationary patrol as a Throne Watcher. It’ll be too soon when he realizes that this shit’ll get loads borin’. Any form of entertainment to break the mold's welcome t'me.”

“Glad I could be of assistance," Crimson tilts his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "Standin’ in one place don’t come off as too much fun.”

“You bet yer arse, especially when you've been at beatin' at the bugger for three years. Glad you showed up, mate. I like you. Who’m I havin’ the pleasure of?”

“Name's Crimson. Pleasure to meet’cha, mister Second Lieutenant.”

“Bulletpoint. Friends call me B.P, shorter than that mess. You gonna be ‘round Cantalot for long?”

After a brief silence, Crimson sighs, putting his hands into his cargo pants pockets. Bulletpoint sees the attitude of the man shift instantly, setting aside all of the lighthearted banter. “... Not sure yet. There's a lot of shit on my plate as of this morn'.”

“Ah, I get'cha. ... Well, mate, ‘f you’s around 'n got nothin' on ya' list, head down to the fields behind the Castle. After trainin’ or patrol, catch me there ‘n we can fetch a pack'a stubbies. You’s seem like a fine bloke.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Crimson rubs his forehead, turning his eyes away in thought. “I could use a drink as of late. Reason I’m here right now is that there’s been wind of magic anomalies ‘r something like that. Dangerous. Killin' stuff ‘n morphin’ animals.”

“Yeh, yeh! Heard about it, crazy fackin’ shit with that, mate. The Robes here at the castle been in a tizzy for weeks. … Ah, speakin' of Robes!" his yellow irises beam suddenly. "Moonloit! That was her, wan't it? In the flesh! She’s back! Like she’s REALLY back! ‘N you were with ‘er!"

"Sure was. Reckon you know her."

"'Course I know 'er! We go way back, me, her, 'n a couple of other blokes from Cantalot."

"You know her personally then."

"Yeh, she made it in as a Robe the same year I entered the Guard. Her comin' back is pretty big news, ya feel. The Robes lost a valuable piece of the team when she up 'n left."

“Yeah, uh, 'bout that...” Crimson mutters as he glances around cautiously, “just keep this between you ‘n me, but I don’t think Moonlight wants folks to know that she’s… well… here yet. Try to let yer friend in the gold there know that he should keep his mouth shut.”

Bulletpoint thinks on his words for a moment, then he exhales with a wry nod. “Yeh, I don’t blame the poor sheila. … Anypony but ‘er deserved what she went through.”

"Figured somethin’ had happened. She’s got an irrational fear of this place, and she just wouldn’t tell me why.”

“I ain’t knowin’ much of the details, and if anypony tries to give you their tale, tell ‘em to fuck off. The true story is held my Moonloit ‘n Moonloit alone. ‘F you wanna know what happened, I say you ask her yeself.”

“I'll dig in the details later, I just wanna know what happened to her."

“… Like I said mate, I dunno. Don't think anypony knows. All I can safely say is, whateva 'appened, it drove Moonloit away from Cantalot. That's sayin' somethin', considerin' she damn loved this city. If I was you, I'd avoid tryn'a bring it up. Prolly ain't the best for her right now.”

"... Yeah. Yer probably right."

"In time, mate. She'll prolly open up to ya. She rubs me off like that type--"

The heavy golden doors to the throne room opening interrupts Bulletpoint, and with second nature kicking right in, he stops talking and immediately fixes his posture and expression. The doors swing wide, Crimson can see both ponies sitting next to each other on the red carpet at the far end of the throne room, with both of them staring back towards him.

Bulletpoint tilts his head, signaling the man to enter. Crimson keeps his face fixated on the mares ahead, walking forward into the throne room. The golden doors close behind him by the blue magic of the gold-armored stallion, isolating him inside with his objective. He continues his silent stride until he stands before both of them.

Celestia has Moonlight under her wing, coupled together like a mother shielding her daughter. Moonlight's hood had been pulled down, allowing her bloodshot eyes and tinted pink cheeks to be clearly seen. Crimson expected for her to drop some pent-up emotions upon seeing Celestia again, and even though he anticipated it, seeing her like this is driving a stake straight through his heart. It seems that she's done crying though, only drying tears and sniffles remain from her release. Her glasses are also missing from her face, they lie on the carpet in between both her and the princess.

"We meet again, dear Crimson," Celestia speaks softly, smiling at him in a way only a caretaker could. "Moonlight has given me your name. Is it fine with you if I call you by it?"

He nods, "By all means, princess." He keeps his gaze focused on Moonlight, he assumes she's not quite ready to compose herself just yet, as she rests her glistening eyes on the ground instead of looking back at him. He shifts his attention to the sun goddess, "Didn't take too long, did it?"

"For you to return to me?" Celestia smiles a bit wider when she asks, receiving a nod from the man. "I, too, was surprised when I received Moonlight's letter yesterday evening. It happened much sooner than I had anticipated."

"You 'anticipated' this?" Celestia nods at his question. "... You knew that sendin' me to Moonlight would make her come back to Canterlot?"

"Not for the reasons you would expect. My initial thought process was that Moonlight wouldn't have the proper resources to study a human at her home."

"... But I thought Moonlight already studied humans back at her house. Them rocks I lifted, didn't you say other humans lifted 'em too, Moonlight?"

Moonlight's eyes move to him, but then return to the ground once Celestia speaks up for her, "She did study humans before, but not at her home. Those rocks were a few of many, and they were once property of the Canterlot Castle Gardens, but upon Moonlight finding a new use for them, I allowed her to keep them for her future endeavors... including endeavors that would occur away from Canterlot. I knew she always had an interest in humans, but I was never able to find one that I felt would best fit her. ... Six years later, here we are."

"... Six years later," Moonlight murmurs dejectedly.

Crimson crosses his arms, thinking deeply before speaking up, "You had this all planned out from the beginning."

Celestia nods. "There were many subtle attempts in the past to get Moonlight to return, but she always found a way to keep herself put. She even made a complicated construct that can read magical property types just for one simple amulet, all by herself. Very advanced technology."

"M-My... A.N.A." Moonlight sniffles, smiling wryly.

Celestia giggles eloquently, "Ah, yes, Ana. That's what you called it. Even though you sent the blueprint to our Researchers, they have yet to figure out how it works. You never ceased to amaze me." She tucks Moonlight closer to her, slipping her forehoof out of its golden slipper to caress the little unicorn's mane. "And you," she looks towards the man, "you have my infinite thanks for bringing me Moonlight back so quickly."

"Just seemed like the right thing to do."

"... Though," Celestia looks away, "... I do hope you are prepared to give Moonlight the aid she requires." Crimson furrows his brows at her words, remaining silent to let her elaborate. "As I had said, I am thankful Moonlight has returned so soon, more-so in the face of an anomalous danger, but I urge you to understand the situation you now find yourself in. Because you are a being of sentience and free will, you are no longer forced to remain at Moonlight's side as her property. I will grant you citizenship of Equestria, and you may live among us as long as you prove cautious to those around you." Her eyes trail down towards Moonlight, who is still leaving her gaze placed on the carpet below. "If you wish to stay at Moonlight's side, you will agree to give your mind and body for her and her team. There are few I can entrust with the duty of keeping my Royal Researchers safe, and I will not leave them in the hooves of incompetence. If this does not sound appealing to you, you are free to walk away at any moment."

The words spoken by Celestia visibly distraught Moonlight, Crimson can see it in her shimmering orbs. She's finally looking up at him, appearing like the innocent younger sibling who's parent is demanding the older sibling to hang out with them. "What kind of dangers do the Royal Researchers go up against?" Crimson firmly asks, causing Moonlight's ears to perk up.

"On-field threats, such as bandits, thieves, raiders and the like are the most prominent dangers. Other hazards include the environment or animals. Domestic threats are few, but still existent. Decoys, assassins or burglars, you will be required to be attentive to your surroundings even at your home turf. The Royal Guard is quick to inform, and even quicker to react."

"This imply I'll have to join yer Guard if I wanna stay with Moonlight?"

"No. You do not have to officially join the Guard, but you are expected to abide by their orders, just as any other citizen of Canterlot. If you will be assisting Moonlight in her work, you will be around them often."

"Understood."

"Then, do you agree to give yourself into servitude of the Royal Consortium, the body that encompasses Equestria?"

"I agree," he states fully resolute. "I'll do my part in keepin' Moonlight safe, you can count on it. But I'll need a place to stay, reckon there's a complex 'round here that's good for that?"

"I've already restored Moonlight's ownership of her old room, which lies in the first floor annex of the East Tower. The annex has compartment rooms accommodated for residence. You may stay there, which I recommend. Residing there, you will always be nearby if Moonlight needs anything."

"Sounds good."

Celestia nods, "Then, I have duties I must now attend to. Moonlight shall show you to your room. Be aware that your duties of servitude begin as of now, and you shall be compensated accordingly every fortnight. ... And as for you, Moonlight," Celestia removes her wing from around her, shifting herself to face the little unicorn directly.

"It brings me joy to finally have you back. If there is anything you need at all, do not hesitate to ask." Celestia levitates Moonlight's glasses up, placing them gently onto her face. Moonlight's trembling lips form a solemn smile, the anxiety swallowing her is repressed into the shadows by the warm light that is her mentor's embrace... but only for the moment.

After a trail through the halls of the Canterlot Castle, Crimson and Moonlight step through an arch way that leads into the bottom floor of the East Tower. Just outside this room is a staircase that leads to the rest of the tower, but down on the first floor is where they venture. This spacious rotunda-like annex is shaped like an octagon, with three wood doors on each side, totaling to six, and one larger, decorated, blue double-door on the opposite side of the arch way entrance. It looks like another royal chamber with doors like that, all spruced up and detailed.

Moonlight checks her surroundings, cautious for any on-lookers. She slips off her hood with her magic once she assures no one else but Crimson is around. "Well... we're here."

"Looks like it."

"Uh, um... C-Crimson?"

"Mm?" he turns his head to look down at her.

"... If you don't mind me asking... why did you decide to stay with me... even after Celestia told you it wasn't required?"

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"... I'm just curious."

"Seems like more than just curiosity to me. I ain't gonna get on your case 'r nothin', Moonlight. Tell me what you're thinkin'."

"... Well... there was no reason for you to accept the task. There's even potential danger in the line of work that you're taking on being with me."

"Danger or no danger, there is a reason I'm stickin' by your side."

"... T-There is?"

"The reason I wanted to stay with you is that I care about you, Moonlight. I wouldn't just wave goodbye 'n book it first chance I got. We're a team now."

"B-But, dangers, Crimson. Dangers! How can you put yourself in danger for me when you've only known me for a short time?"

"A short time is all I needed to see that you're good at heart. Call me what you like, I believe you're someone who's worth the risk." His words manage to bring out a bashful smile from her, but it seems that she's having a hard time trying to respond to them. Crimson looks forward, towards the fancy doors. To break the thickening tension building in the little unicorn, he speaks up again, "I take it your room's the one with the doors colored like you?" he asks, looking down at her again, seeing her nod in response. "Think you could give me a tour?"

"I-It's really nothing to admire at the moment. If memory serves me correctly, and if nothing has changed since I left, it's just a bunch of packed-up things inside boxes."

"Well, hey, I could help you unpack. Get everythin' situated for you in half the time."

Moonlight smiles wryly, nodding again at his offer. She walks towards the elegant door, levitating a long blue metal key out from the inside of her robe and slipping it into the padlock that binds both handles. Once undone, she levitates the lock and key back towards herself, then she envelops the doors with her magic, opening them simultaneously inwards. The doors groan in protest at being bothered from their prolonged stagnation, but they open without a hitch.

The inside is illuminated only by the sunlight punching through a massive window at the top of the room, shining rays of light that highlight the dust particles that dance in the air. Crimson sees that this isn't much of a room, but almost an entire observatory. It is incredibly spacious, with a ceiling that extends ridiculously high. There's two floors to this room alone, where the second floor is more of a large balcony that overlooks the first floor. As Moonlight had said, there are boxes stacked on top of each other all over the place, with very few objects still set out rather than packed up. A few ground-mounted desks with sinks sit on the first floor, and the most prominent feature in the room, a sizable telescope that aims at the window panels on the second floor.

Moonlight looks around timidly, a rush of old memories come back to her all at once. Nothing has moved since she left, and she even assumes that the door hadn't even been opened at all once the guard had locked it six years ago. This grand room, left unused and abandoned, waiting for its rightful owner to return.

Crimson stands at her side, putting fists on his hips and intentionally snapping her out of her musing, "Wow. This place is huge."

"It's... quite something."

"Why do them tables have sinks? Those're sinks, right?"

"Yes, they're lab tables. M-My room is... kind of like a second laboratory."

"This was where you mainly worked?"

"Nu-no. As nice as that would be, Royal Researchers are required to go to the research labs to do work... but after, I'd come to my room and do my own experiments just for fun."

"'Just for fun,' huh," he chuckles, looking up to the second floor. "... What's up there, with that big-ass spyglass?"

"My bedroom. You can't see it from here, but there's a bed, some closets... things like that."

"That's a huge window up there. Bet you get a real good view of the stars at night usin' that thing."

"... It's one thing that I missed from this place."

Crimson looks around, bouncing his eyes between all of the brown, dusty boxes that litter the room. "Got a lot of unpackin' to do, huh?"

"There were a lot of things I couldn't take with me..."

Crimson walks forward, picking up a box that sits next to a lab table and setting it on top. He turns to face Moonlight, leaning against the lab table and patting the box, smiling as he says, "Feel like gettin' started?"

Moonlight exhales deeply through her nose, smiling back at him and nodding. She levitates a seemingly random box over to herself, getting it open and taking out something from inside. Crimson sees that she got out two white face masks, offering one to him while placing the other onto herself.

Crimson wipes his forehead, clearing it of dust and sweat. He places one last graduated cylinder out onto the left-most lab desk, in between several other flasks and measuring beakers. He aligns it perfectly, with the side marked in milliliters facing the front, just as the others are. Moonlight's instructions are starting to become habit.

Moonlight herself is sweeping up some clumps of dust, magically manipulating a brush and a dust pan to pick up the final remnants of dead cells that polluted the air. Crimson sighs in satisfaction, looking around at the handiwork put in by both of them. After a whole afternoon of cleaning, picking stuff up and taking stuff out of boxes, new life has been breathed into the room. It looks completely new, as if it was finished being constructed yesterday and polished today.

Crimson feels comfortable in here now that everything is set up. His favorite part is the decorations placed way up in the ceiling; dangling stars and moons on nearly-invisible strings that slowly softly glow and shift to different colors. They'd be much more visible in the dark now since the day has been traded in for the night, but Moonlight turned on the lights to the room as the sun went down.

Moonlight had been multitasking with her cunning magic, mixing her cleaning and dusting with unpacking and placing. She didn't even need to look in order to put things in their place, like she already knew where everything went. Crimson found himself smiling when he was watching her move everything so naturally. Of course she already knew where everything went, this is her room, along with everything that she owned. Well, aside from the things she took to her home outside of Baltimare, but it probably wasn't much considering there was so many things to unpack.

Crimson pulls down the damp white face mask that protected him from the floating menace, letting him finally get a whiff of fresh air. He watches Moonlight now, seeing her carefully sweep the last few clumps of dust into the pan, sending the grey collection into a trash bag that she's been filling up the entire time. He didn't exchange many words with her during their cleaning session, other than asking her where she wanted something placed. He did ask her whether she could get the maids from the castle to help out, or even do the cleaning for them, and while Moonlight said she could, she'd rather clean herself. It didn't surprise him that she'd want to do the cleaning herself, considering the spotless state that her other home was in. It was incredibly convenient that her room had its own supply closet, filled with several-year-old janitorial equipment.

Besides, it was nice to get to do something with Moonlight, especially something that she seems to kind of enjoy. She looked so focused and confident while tending to her room, it's almost like she forgot she was in Canterlot.

Moonlight removes her face mask and tosses it into the dust-filled trash bag. She glances over to Crimson, seeing that he's leaning against a lab table and watching her with his own mask down. "Mask?" she asks while looking at it.

Crimson reaches up and takes his mask off from under his chin, tossing it up and towards Moonlight. She catches it in the air with her magic and levitates it into the trash bag, methodically tying the bag up and giving it one spin. "Whew," Moonlight smiles, setting the bag down next to the doors of the room. "Finished."

"We make a good team," Crimson opines playfully.

"I concur," she replies amidst a giggle, looking at the man's form up and down, then down at herself. "We certainly are a mess."

"We sure are. Pretty usual fer me, 'cept it's usually dirt 'n mud and not dust. There some place we can get cleaned up? I recall there bein' a bath house in the castle... somewhere."

"If I remember correctly, it closes at nine."

"Time is it?" Crimson asks as he looks towards the a comically large, ten-foot circular hand-clock that Moonlight mounted at the top of the doorway to the room. "Dagnabbit, nine thirty. Just missed it."

"Oh, that's okay, there's a bath here in my room. Just upstairs," she points her hoof towards the second floor.

"This room really does have everythin', doesn't it."

"Just about," Moonlight smiles coyly. She waves him with her hoof to follow her, and he leans off the lab table to do so. They ascend the carpeted staircase, heading up to the 'bedroom' section of this humongous dwelling. The rest of the second floor is carpeted as well, in contrast to the standard marble floor found downstairs and nearly everywhere else in the castle. Moonlight had already furnished her sleeping space with the contents she had stored in the boxes up here, which contained her bed sheets, pillows, some changes of rather fancy clothing, and other personal commodities such as a killer whale plushy that rests in the middle of the bed, named "Soap."

"That room there," Moonlight looks at a slightly opened door on the wall next to the staircase. She opens the door and flicks on the lights with her magic, presenting the freshly-dusted and cleaned pink-tile bathroom. "I set out some bottles of shampoo and soap that I bought but never opened, feel free to pick which ever one you like."

"Appreciate it, but you go right ahead 'n get yourself cleaned up first. I can bask in my musk for a little longer."

Moonlight nods thankfully, making haste towards the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Crimson already figured she wants out of her grimy state as soon as possible, more-so than he does. He watches the closed bathroom door for a moment longer before turning around and resting his eyes on the bedroom. He finds the entire design of this room odd, yet appealing. He walks forward, being careful not to touch anything with his dirty self, moving along the right side of the bed and the front of the standing closets. He peers off the edge of the balcony, down towards the first floor of the room. He has a great view of the three lab tables, the entrance to the room, the wall clock, and pretty much everything that isn't directly under the second floor balcony. All of this was made just for her.

Crimson's baggy eyes bounce between different parts of the room, looking, but not seeing. The surrealness of the entire situation is overtaking him as it first did when he arrived, causing him to trail off in thought. He still isn't sure how he got to this land, and he isn't sure how he's gonna get back to Earth... but as long as he's here, he's going to try and make it count.

"..." Crimson looks down at himself, noticing that at some point, he started leaning on the railing of the balcony. "... Shit," he utters, leaning off of it to see that his arms got dust on the rail. He reaches his hand to wipe the dust, but realizing that his hands are grubby, he stops. He squints at the two splotches of dust he left with hatred.

The door to the bathroom opens, Crimson looks back quickly with wide eyes. Moonlight steps out with a towel around her mane, keeping her eyes focused on the carpet under her.

"Moonlight, I, uh... accidentally left a mark on the rail here."

"... That's okay," she responds halfheartedly. "I'll get it in the morning."

Crimson's brows furrow, watching her move sluggishly towards her bed and climb onto it. It looks like her enthusiasm plank-dived right to ground floor. The Moonlight that walked into the bathroom and the Moonlight that came out are two different beings.

"Go ahead and shower, if you'd like," she calls simply, laying down on her side and hugging the killer whale plushy.

"... Somethin' the matter, Moonlight?"

"... Just a little tired. The left shower nob is for the warm water."

Keeping his eyes focused on her, he walks over to the side of the bed, standing at her side. Her half-lidded pink orbs stare into the void, briefly shifting to look at him when he appears in her view. "Is Soap gonna keep you safe while I'm showering?"

She nods, "He always has. ... I missed him a lot." Her voice is muffled as she speaks against the plush in her arms.

"Good to see old friends back together again."

She shuffles in place, burying herself deeper against the plushy. "... There's a red towel I hung on the shower door. That one is for you."

With concern in his expression, Crimson nods in acknowledgement and steps off towards the restroom, keeping his eyes on her until she leaves his peripheral.

After a thorough cleaning session in a very posh and comfortable shower, Crimson gets himself dry with the maroon-colored towel that was set out for him, then he gets his messy, torn up cargo shorts back on. He did his best to dust them and throw away all the particles that flew off, but it definitely needs a thorough cleaning soon. They're starting to smell like... sweat and jungle.

He slips his sandals back on, then he examines himself in the slightly foggy mirror. He uses his nails to slide his hair back, and after a quick self-inspection, he goes for the restroom door.

... Moonlight's asleep already. Her glasses are titled along her face, being pressed on by the side squished in between her head and the bed. Knowing that she has a tendency to shift quite a lot in her sleep, Crimson takes it upon himself to keep her glasses safe. He walks over to her and crouches down at her side, reaching in with both hands to gently slide her oculars off without causing too much disruption. She hardly even noticed. Crimson stands up and places her glasses on the nightstand closest to him.

He gazes at the little mare despondently, forced to repress his worry for her until the morning. She wasn't acting herself just before she fell asleep, and he safely assumes it happened when she started showering. Being alone with nothing but one own's thoughts can be dangerous, as he knows too well. Whatever it is that she's keeping in a shell, Crimson will try to crack it tomorrow.

Right now, sleep is what she needs. She was woken up much earlier than usual, and the nap she got in during the carriage ride probably wasn't good enough. Without wanting to disturb her or invite himself unexpectedly, Crimson opts for letting Moonlight have her own bed tonight. He directs himself down the staircase and towards the doors to her room, hearing nothing but the clap of his own sandals against the marble floor. He grips the right door's cold handle and pulls it open. Surprisingly, it's light and easy to move, and it isn't emitting the obnoxious creaking that it did when Moonlight first opened it earlier.

Once open, Crimson throws one last glance towards the second floor. He can't even see her from down here, but his mind recalls what she looked like before he stepped down.

He reaches for the light switch panel next to the doors, flicking them down and turning off the lights to the quarter. The glow-in-the-dark star and moon decorations hanging from above shimmer beautifully, just as he expected them to. He can't help but admire them for a while.

He steps out into the rotunda, closing the door behind himself. He glances between the six doors that Celestia had offered as residence to him. He doesn't give it too much thought, picking the door to the right, closest to Moonlight's room. He opens the light wooden door and pushes it in, scrutinizing the inside. The light of the hallway illuminates the darkness from inside, accompanied by the weaker moonlight ushering in a sleepy blue hue from a window to the right of the bed.

A bed, a standing closet, one nightstand, and a desk with drawers. By anyone else in Canterlot, the standards of this room are rather basic, but to Crimson, this room is luxury. The unnecessary amount of decals and furnishings on furniture and walls is off-putting to him, but since he isn't losing anything staying here, he can't complain. He steps in and closes the door behind him, cancelling his main source of light to give the moon it's sleepy-blue reign, amplified by the purples and blues of the room's color design.

Without much else to keep him, he kicks off his sandals and leaps into bed. It bounces him quite a bit before settling down and keeping still. He puts his hands on the back of his head and stares up at the high ceiling, letting his mind put down tracks for random trains of thought. He isn't sure what tomorrow has in store, but he's ready to tackle whatever comes towards him.

"... Already?" Viola asks, looking up at her brother with a frown. As they sit together on the staircase of the porch to their home in the Rift, she squeezes his arm tighter, unwilling to let him go.

"Yeah. I can hear birds chirpin' outside the window." He looks down into her beautifully-glowing golden iris, smiling tenderly at her. "I'll be back before you know it." He plants a kiss onto her forehead, one that sends shivers throughout her entire body as the warmth of his embrace suddenly fades.

With a crestfallen sigh, she couples her knees up to her chest, hugging them and bracing herself to fight off the incoming isolation.

Crimson's eyes crack open unevenly, burning from exhaustion and sleep deprivation. He knows staying in the Rift to spend time with his sister doesn't let his physical body rest in the waking world, much less sleep, but every second spent with her is a treasure he wouldn't trade for the best sleep in the world.

Besides, it's not like he can sleep properly anyway. This bed that he's currently in, with all of its thick and plush blankets and pillows, didn't really have the effect he thought it would. The only good night of sleep he's had recently was in Moonlight's bed back at her home, and that in itself was a pleasant surprise. It's strange, too, that this bed feels very similar to that of Moonlight's. Maybe they're the same type, considering Celestia's subjects constructed Moonlight's home and probably furnished it. Something about Moonlight's bed just felt... different.

He decides that he's stayed laying down for long enough. With a big yawn and some kicks to stretch his legs, he rises from the bed and rubs his tired eyes. He slips into his sandals and wiggles his toes to make sure they're on firmly.

The sun punches through the window of his room, illuminating him and his body with its incandescent glow. Curious, he steps towards the window to see what lies outside of it. Even though he's considered to be on the first floor of the Eastern Tower, the room he's in is elevated quite a distance from the ground outside. Parts of the Castle that tower around block some of his view to the left, but he has a good view of a grassy field to the right, where a bunch of equipment and obstacles are placed throughout the yard. It appears to be the Royal Guard's training field, most obviously indicated by the guards themselves who are down there, some wearing their armor and some wearing only a tan shirt.

With enough sightseeing, he turns for the mirror that sits above a drawer cabinet, eyeing himself as he fixes his hair with his fingers. He then heads for the door and makes his exit, closing it behind him and stepping out into the rotunda. He hears distant movement and chatter from other parts of the Castle, but the rotunda itself is quiet and undisturbed.

Crimson fixes his attention on the regal blue doors that enter Moonlight's room. He isn't sure what time it is, but if he's right to assume, Moonlight is still asleep.

He walks to her doors and clicks open the right one, opening it and peeking inside. The room is illuminated only by sunlight, giving its usual sleepy-blue appearance an amber color. He doesn't see any signs of movement from the lower floor, and all of the flasks he placed on the lab desks are untouched. Looks like she's still asleep.

He steps in and closes the door gently, heading towards the other end of the room where the staircase is. As he moves towards the stairs, he glances up at the big wall-clock behind him to see it reads about 9:25. It isn't terribly late, but it certainly isn't early either.

He walks up to the second floor and focuses on the bed, exactly where the little blue unicorn rests. She didn't even get under the covers, she's sleeping on top of the sheets, hugging Soap firmly as if he was going to get up and run away. Her softly sleeping air breathes the essence of pure innocence, and it's a shame he's gonna have to bother her. She can't be sleeping in as late as she used to, there's simply too many things to do.

Crimson steps towards the bed, sitting down at its side and reaching his hand to Moonlight. He gently caresses her mane, and she responds by tucking her chin into her chest, hiding her face behind her plush. It looks like she isn't fully asleep right now, more-so resting with her eyes closed.

"Mornin', Moonlight," he calls softly to her.

"Hnn," she huffs, wanting anything but to have to get up.

"Rise 'n shine."

"... The maid isn't even here yet," she weakly mumbles.

"The maid?" he echoes, retreating his hand from her head.

"Mhmm... the maid. What time is it?"

"It's almost nine-thirty."

"... She should be here any second," she sighs into her plushy.

With miraculous timing, a knock is heard downstairs on Moonlight's door. Crimson's brows raise, impressed at the codified event. Looks like she's aware that she can't be sleeping in, she was just waiting for her own version of an alarm clock.

"Could you get that for me?" Moonlight moves her head to reveal her right eye from behind the plush, looking at him.

"Sure thing," he nods and rises from the bed, heading downstairs to respond to the door. He opens it and looks down at the pony who had knocked.

"Gud morning, miz Moonlaait! Breakfast iz--"

Crimson's eyes widen at the sight of the mare who wears maid attire and is delivering breakfast on a metal shelved trolley. "... Kimi?"

The lavender-maned mare's eyes nearly pop out of her sockets. Kimi stares up at the man completely befuddled, looking as if she's about to faint. Her cheeks redden deeply as she tries to speak, "Ha-I, ha-I..."

Crimson smiles and rubs the back of his neck, bashfully chuckling, "It's good to see you again."

"Y-You ztill remember my naame!" she whispers excitedly, barely loud enough to be heard by him.

"Yeah, of course I do. I remember almost everythin'."

Her eyes tremble as she registers his words. Her mouth opens to speak, to give an excuse of some sort, but in her stupor and apprehension, nothing seems to be coming out.

"I'm not angry or nothin'. I actually admire yer commitment and stubbornness," he smirks. "It was a little left-field, though."

"Ho-uy, I-I, p-please, forgive me, I would have neva done it if I had known th-th-that--"

"Nah, nah," he motions with his hands carefully, "it's alright. Bein' honest with you, I can't recall what any of it felt like, so even if it could bother me, it didn't. I got sprayed with some sorta purple bottle that them guards have."

"Hooo," Kimi coos in realization, piecing together why he wasn't as responsive and aware back then as he is right now, having made it easy to mistake him for a dumber human. "Ze 'mimis' potion. Zat explains much to me now."

"Regardless of what happened to me, I'm glad I was able to make the experience enjoyable fer you though," he crosses his arms with the same grin.

She slowly internalizes what he says, causing a wobbly, terribly blushing smile to form on her face. "Ehehehe~" she looks away, giggling like a school-filly.

"Say, I thought you were a spa pony or whatever you call 'em. What're you doin' dressed up like a maid? You look nice in them clothes, but I'm just curious."

"I-I," she clears her throat, composing herself as best she can, "I-I svitched pozitions. A-After our... night togeza, I finally realized zat my zisters and I ver not meant to be in ze same vorking room. I gained ze courage to speak against zem zat night, and zats when I spoke to Celescha aftawards. Zea was a need for anaza maidpony, a-and I took ze job as soon as I could!"

"Stellar. How's bein' a maid workin' out for you?"

"Iz sooo match betta zan bein' a spa pony! I do miss being wif za humans, bat dis is match betta overall. I don't have do deal wif my zistas anymoa."

"Glad to hear it. And yeah, I remember your sisters were givin' you quite a lot of shit for some reason."

"Zey do it because I'm ze younga one..."

"Seriously? That's the reason why?" She nods in response to his disapproval. "Damn. I hate to be rude, but yer sisters are kind of, uh..."

"Betchez?"

"Heh, yeah. Bitches. Take pride knowin' you're better than 'em, instead of droppin' to their level. Don't you ever let anyone tell you you're worth less than you really are."

She nods happily, keeping her eyes resting at his feet as the warmth in her heart builds from his words. "... I-It iz veri nice to see yu again. A-Are you... going to be around ze Cantelot for a while--?"

Suddenly, a little bell attached to her chest on her uniform glows with white magic and it rings itself, causing her to jump slightly in realization, "Hoh! Ze breakfast!" She looks up to him, smiling timidly and bowing slightly as she backpedals, "I-I'm sorri, but I mast go now. Otha breakfasts await otha ponies! Please leave ze cart hea when you'a done! Anoza maid vill get it for you!"

"Got'cha. Thanks, Kimi. It was great seein' you again too."

She nods quickly and turns to trot off, but then freezes in place. She turns her head back toward him, calling humbly, "I-I neva got yoa name."

"Crimson Sky," he salutes her with two fingers.

"... Crimsun Skai," she repeats to herself warmly, a smile slowly grows on her face as she makes haste off and away.

Crimson pulls the cart which contains two cloche serving dishes and two glasses of orange liquid, assuming one to be for him and one for Moonlight. He closes the door and turns around--

"Woh!" he recoils, nearly bumping into Moonlight as she was standing incredibly close.

"Who was that?" Moonlight asks curiously.

"One of the Castle's maids. She stopped by to bring breakfast, just like you said. I actually know her, it's crazy bumpin' into her like this."

"Already making friends, are we?" Moonlight asks with a wry smile, using her horn to levitate the serving dishes and the cup with orange liquid onto the closest lab table in the middle.

"Yeah, guess you can say that. She knew yer name too, so I reckon you know her."

"She didn't look familiar," Moonlight shakes her head. "Celestia must have given her my name."

"Ah," Crimson scratches the back of his head, feeling a little pressed by Moonlight's very interested look. "So, uh, what's fer breakfast?"

"Today is Monday, so that would lead me to assume pancakes and eggs."

"Sounds great right about now. Is that orange drink there tangerine juice?"

"Indeed it is."

"Damn. Talk about bein' a favorite."

"Celestia remembers too many things about me."

"Ain't that a good thing?"

"... It's a two-way street," Moonlight takes a stool, prompting Crimson to do the same. They sit down on the lab table as they open up their cloche covers and set them aside.

The aroma of the food tickles Crimson's nose. The syrup used to coat these smiley-face strawberry pancakes with whipped cream smells delectable. He takes the fork and knife that rests on the sides of the food and he digs in.

Moonlight uses her horn to manipulate her utensils, eating very cleanly and regally. It seems that Canterlot etiquette quite hasn't left her yet, even if she had spent many years away from it.

She notices that Crimson is staring at her with a goofy smile as he eats, drawing mild disconcert into her. "... Is... is there something on my face?" she blushes slightly, putting her left hoof onto her cheek.

"Nah, nah, you're fine. Just find it kind'a funny." She tilts her head curiously, allowing him to continue. "You're here knowin' the exact time the maids were gonna show up, and you know your way around the Castle. Not much has changed since you left, huh?"

"I would see no reason to change anything," Moonlight says as she stabs a piece of pancake, "why would the Princess change a system that works?"

"Good point. Don't fix what ain't broke. We're better for it too, so we can get started sooner rather than later. What's the plan today, miss Wish?"

"... Today..." she begins, pondering one last thought before continuing, "... today, I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

"Before anything can get started, I need to rebuild my ANA device. I wasn't able to bring my original with us, and going to retrieve it would take an unnecessary amount of planning with the Royal Consortium to get us a transport carriage booked, so I'm going to remake it, and possibly better this time. The two things lacking for that are the blueprint and maybe the materials. I'm certain I have the materials here in my room, but I still need the blueprint."

"Can't you just whip one up real quick?"

"The ANA's blueprint is an amalgamation of years of planning and pieces. Some of the finer details that make it function I have forgotten. I could try to remake another blueprint from scratch using the major parts that I remember then substitute the things I don't, but that would take too long. It would be preferable if you could fetch me my original plan."

"All the way back on the outskirts of Baltimare? What about all the planning with the Royal whatevers?"

"No-no, here, in the Castle."

"Ah, yeah. I remember Celestia sayin' something about the Robes bein' unable to figure out your blueprint."

"... The Robes?" Moonlight asks incredulously. "That's a term I haven't heard in years. Who taught you that?"

"A guard I met while you 'n Celestia were havin' yer talk. His name's Bulletpoint."

"Oh!" Moonlight smiles, "I remember him." Her smile slowly drops for a squint. "He has a drinking problem."

"If I had his job, I think I'd have one too. So, where can I find the blueprint?"

"In the labs of the Royal Researchers. I'll give you some directions on a piece of paper that you can follow to get there, as well as a few other locations in the Castle that might be useful to you."

"Wait. If the blueprint is in the research labs, why can't you come with me?"

"... Re... Reasons," Moonlight quickly stuffs a piece of pancake into her mouth to avoid speaking further.

Crimson rests his right elbow on the table, leaning his head on his knuckles to look at Moonlight to his left. "Are the reasons for that the same reasons you wore that floppy hood around all day yesterday?"

Moonlight chews on her food slowly, looking down at her plate with a guilty face.

"Moonlight, you're gonna need to show yourself to others at some point. I'm pretty sure half of the Castle already knows you're here."

After swallowing her food, Moonlight huffs, "It's... that..." Crimson raises his brows, waiting for her to continue. Moonlight turns to face him with her ears falling to her head, "Please, just give me a little time to sort myself out."

Crimson nods in understanding, taking the last of his egg into his mouth.

"... A-And could you do me another favor while you're headed to the labs?" He looks at her again as he chews, prompting her to continue. "The Royal Researchers. I, um... i-it's been a while since I've been here, and I don't know if our lineup changed. ... Could... you get the names of the ponies there when you see them?"

Crimson nods again, swallowing his food and gulping down the last of his juice. With a satisfied sigh, he sits up from his stool. "Righty'o. Just hand me them directions and I'll be on my way. You gonna be here at your lonesome while I'm out?"

"I will, but that's okay. I need to get materials situated and measured, so I'll need to be focused." She uses her magic to open a drawer on the lab table and take out a quill, inkwell, and a sheet of paper. "Hopefully they haven't changed the design of the Castle or anything while I was gone," she murmurs as she sketches out the directions to the labs.

Venturing through the Castle is easier than he expected it to be. Aside from being constantly stared at and avoided to an extent, the ponies that wander these grandiose halls are aware of his presence, making his life a bit easier. He isn't sure if word spread by Celestia's mouth or by the living chatterbox that is Canterlot's high-society, but he is completely fine with the exposure.

As he walks through a set of archways, he looks up and down from the piece of paper that Moonlight gave him, matching the structures in the doodle to his surroundings. "Looks like the place."

This section of the Castle dedicated to the Royal Researchers is one long hallway with a massive, actively-rotating gyroscope at the end, standing before a long rectangular window that allows sunlight to beam behind it and cast a constantly shifting shadow into the hall. Along the sides of this large hall, several more rooms without any sort of door are placed evenly throughout the left and the right, each room being a lab of its own tasked with a different set of studies and tools.

Crimson doesn't see any of the researchers as of this moment, assuming they're probably inside the rooms doing whatever it is that they do. He pockets Moonlight's sketch and he walks towards the first room on the right, peeking in through the open archway.

He sees a unicorn mare, with pink hair and a yellow coat, sitting by herself at a lab table using her yellow magic to write into a scroll. She looks quite serious, contrasting her very bright and lighthearted appearance. She wears a hooded robe similar to Moonlight's, silver in color rather than dark blue.

Crimson knocks on the frame of the archway to get her attention unobtrusively.

"I already know you're there," she suddenly vocalizes. Her voice sounds very, very condescending, and she speaks very quickly.

Crimson's brows lower, wondering if what she said was directed to him.

As the mare keeps writing, seemingly absorbed in her work, she calls again, "You going to stand there and watch me all day?"

"So you were talkin' to me," Crimson crosses his arms.

"Do you see anypony else around?" she questions sarcastically.

"I ain't botherin' you, am I?"

"Not any more than the extent you already have."

"Good," Crimson retorts as he walks around a few lab tables, towards the front of the mare. Once he stands before her, he looks down at the scroll she hasn't stopped writing in, then up to her front. Her terribly rude attitude by itself is slightly off-putting, but its amplified by her young and innocent appearance.

Her pink orbs shift up to him quickly, then back down to her scroll as her brows furrow. "What do you want?"

"Your reaction to me is certainly interestin'."

"You'll excuse me if I don't do somersaults because of your presence."

"I take it you're already familiar with who I am."

"Of course. The whimsical human everypony is talking about."

"What's yer name, miss?"

She stops writing suddenly, squinting at her scroll. Crimson raises his left brow, wondering about her sudden reaction. To his surprise, she lifts her head up to him, eyeing him bitterly. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Cause you were the unfortunate soul who was first seen by my unlikeliness in these here labs, ma'am," Crimson smirks. "I've got a few things to ask you before I can get out of your hair."

"Are you a tourist with privileged access to any part of the Castle? How are you allowed in the Royal Research labs?"

Crimson shrugs, "the guards outside didn't try stoppin' me when I was comin' in."

The mare sighs through her nose, rolling her eyes before looking back down at her scroll again.

"The sooner you help me, the sooner I leave you alone."

"Why don't you go bother Magnifying Glass instead?" she asks in a mumble, continuing her writing.

"Magnifying Glass? That another researcher?"

"Yes, he is. It would be preferable if you disturbed him instead of me."

"So there's only two of you here?"

She sighs in annoyance, "As of this moment? Yes. That is not speaking for the Minor Scribes that don't have any business in the labs, they patrol the Castle."

"How many Robes are there normally?" She lifts her head again, squinting at him as he says 'Robes.' He becomes aware to the fact that the term 'Robes' might not be the most positive of inflections. "... Or, uh, Royal Researchers. Whatever y'all call 'em."

"There are five of us," she replies, still squinting at him searingly. "Three are currently in the Las Pegasus laboratories performing coequal studies."

"What're their names?"

"The Second-Head Researcher is Mace Collateral. Under him is Running Water, the Head Scribe. Then Lightheart Trot. She's a regular Scribe, just as Magnifying Glass and I."

Crimson nods in acknowledgement. "'N what's yer name?"

"Why do you want to know?" she deflects the question strictly.

"A friend of mine wants to know. You might'a heard of her, she's the Head Researcher."

"You're referring to Moonlight Wish, correct?" she asks, to which he nods affirmingly.

"So you do know her."

"I used to work for her," the mare states as if Crimson was supposed to know this already.

"Don't that mean they're actually six of you, not just five?"

"That would be the case, if she wasn't officially marked for relief."

Crimson's brows furrow as he presses his knuckles on the lab table, leaning closer to her. "... What does that mean?"

"To summarize a painfully long story into a single sentence: It was believed Moonlight Wish committed suicide, thus leaving her position as Head Researcher available."

"The fuck?" Crimson squints.

"Your reaction and previous statement lead me to assume that is not the case."

"Of course it fuckin' isn't, why would a person like Moonlight kill herself? What brain-dead moron conjured such a stupid fuckin' tale?"

"The origins of the rumor are unclear, it has been circulating for nearly three years now."

Crimson rubs his chin, throwing the ideas presented to him around in his head. He isn't sure if Celestia or Moonlight herself are aware about this, but he's making it a point to relay it to them for clarification soon. Moonlight doesn't come off as the type of pony that would move to hurt herself, much less end her own life.

But he realizes that there's always the possibility that he's wrong. There's too much he doesn't know for him to be jumping to conclusions, but at least from what he's seen, she doesn't have any self-destructive tendencies.

Pushing aside his rise in temper from the outlandish rumor, he is grateful that this seemingly fussy and angry mare he's talking to has been nice enough to answer his questions.

Just as soon as she drops her gaze back to her scroll to finally continue writing, Crimson speaks up again, causing her to sigh irately. "Right, well, thanks for the info. I'll be out of your hair now... miss..." he leans his head towards her, prompting her to tell him her name. She only lifts her sharp eyes to look at him without uttering a word. "... I do believe this's the part where you tell me yer name."

"I will not."

"What's wrong with me knowin' yer name? It's not like I can use it to hurt you."

Her muzzle scrunches as she returns her gaze to the scroll.

"... You don't like yer name? Think it's embarrassing or somethin'?"

"I am not going to tell you my name, and that is final. You can leave now."

For a gritty and stern mare like her, this is certainly a sensitive spot. Bad move for her, revealing that she's got an insecurity under all of that angry frowning. It only makes toying with her that much easier. So, with a grin, Crimson sits up from the lab table and coos, "Anythin' for my bubblegum-colored dame. Think I'll call you Lil' Miss Bubblegum. That's got a nice ring, don't it? You aren't married right? It'd be Misses Bubblegum in that case--"

"No," she interjects harshly.

"So I take it it's Miss Bubblegum."

"Do not call me that."

He shrugs theatrically, "I ain't got another way to refer to you, Miss Bubblegum."

"Hrrh," her head lowers as she grumbles her anger out. "... Just... leave. Now."

"Yeah, yeah, f'course! I'll be on my way. Do know I'm grateful for your help, and... apologies for havin' taken up yer time... Miss Bubblegum," he chuckles and makes his way towards the archway. The pink-maned mare keeps her dilated, burning eyes fixed on him as he moves to leave. Once Crimson exits the lab and steps out into the hallway, he steps right in front of another pony who was about to walk towards the same room he just came out of.

A unicorn stallion with a silver coat and blue silver-streaked hair is standing in place, staring up at Crimson in awe. He's wearing the same hooded robe as the other mare, except light blue in color.

"Huh?" the stallion suddenly murmurs, despite no-one having said anything.

"I take it you're Magnifyin' Glass."

"Huh? Uuh," he stammers, shifting his eyes left and right small distances. "... Uh, I, yes! Yes. That's, uh, that's... that's me! Wow! You're the human!"

"Name's Crimson Sky. Just got done talkin' to yer friend over there, she told me your name."

"Oh--oh, I heard. I was, uh, uhm... listening in on you two. After I heard talking coming from her lab, I just... just had to see what the commotion was. You, um, uh... were really making her angry."

"Yeah, I was. Gotta kick outta her."

"I would--would never do something like that, she's... she's scary."

"Bubblegum? You think she's scary?" he asks, getting a nod from Glass. "More adorable than anythin'."

"Don't--Don't let her hear you say that!"

"I SWEAR THAT I'LL COME OUT THERE!" the mare yells furiously from the inside of her lab. "GO AWAY!"

Glass's eyes shoot open as he stammers away, running towards the middle lab room on the other side of the hallway and shuddering inside. Crimson rolls his eyes and walks towards the same room, standing at the archway as he sees the stallion hiding behind a lab desk. They eye each other, with Crimson giving Glass's trembling look a very unimpressed stare.

After giving Glass a minute to cower in fear, he finally comes up from his hiding and clears his throat. "S-Sorry. She, um, she... she scares me."

"Yeah, I see that."

"Any--Anyway, what brings the talk of the city to--to the Royal Research labs?" he chuckles nervously.

"I'm here to fetch the blueprint for the ANA device."

"The ANA device?" he pauses briefly, scanning the ground before looking back up to the man, "... The one Moonlight Wish made?"

"That's the one."

"Why? Even the Second-Head Researcher couldn't figure out how to ah-assemble it. It--It's not like you're going to use it for anything. Are you?"

"Not me, but the maker herself is."

"Wuh-huh!?" his eyes dilate in shock, "What!? Moonlight is!?"

"Yeah?"

"Does--Does that mean she's HERE!? At the CASTLE!?"

"Yeah. Thought you said you were eavesdroppin' on me 'n Bubblegum's conversation."

"Only the latter part of it!"

"Hm. I thought lots of folks already knew she was here."

"N-No! No, no, not at all! I had no idea! All I've ever heard about is you!"

Crimson scratches the back of his head, realizing that he might have just blown Moonlight's cover in some way. "I, uh... yeah. Don't go around tellin' anyone about that, alright? She's takin' time to herself right now, she'll be the one to let others know she's here, not you or me."

"Er-ehhr," Glass stammers, nearly choking on his own saliva, "ye-yeah! Sure! No problem at all! I won't say a word!" His eyes look up to the ceiling, glistening with some sort of emotion mixed between shock and adore. "Wow! Moonlight's back! That's--That's... that's great news! Eh-uh, t-tell her I said hi, would you?"

"Yeah, will do. Now, about that blueprint."

"Hoh! Oh--Oh, sure! It's in Second-Head Collateral's office! In a file in his desk! Come with me! I'll get it for you!"

Crimson nods in appreciation, following behind him as he leads him to his objective.

With the blueprint in a manila folder and an uneventful trek back to the Eastern Tower first floor, Crimson opens the right door to Moonlight's room, startling the little mare as she was tilting a beaker to pour green liquid into another.

"Pardon, didn't mean to startle you none," he excuses himself as he steps in and closes the door.

"I-It's okay, I didn't expect you to be back so soon. I see you have the blueprint."

He holds up the folder as he walks towards her at the middle lab table, holding it out for her to take it.

She envelops it with her magic, floating it to herself and opening it up. "Perfect. Now I just need to organize my materials, then I can get started with remaking my ANA device."

Crimson looks at the chemistry flasks she has set up on her table, which contain a myriad of liquids and bubbling substances. "Are these here meant for the ANA device?" he asks, receiving a verbalized affirmation. "... Looks more like potions 'n tonics than workin' on an electrical box."

"The ANA device is magically powered. It also detects magic using its own magical properties. In essence, it's a magic box, not an electrical one."

"Ah. That explains why I didn't see it plugged into nothin' back at yer house. The lamps 'n stuff were, just not the box."

"Mhm! The electrical components are the dials, but it's a very simple circuit that powers itself using magic also."

"You make it sound so easy, but I heard the Second-Head Researcher had a hard time."

"The Second-Head? ... Oh! That reminds me!" Moonlight smiles as she gazes up at him, looking quite anxious all of a sudden. "Did you get the names of the researchers currently in position?"

"Ah, yeah. I got their names. You aware that like half the team's out right now? In 'Las Pegasus' doin' whatever it is they're doin'?"

"The team must have entered division procedures, since the magical anomalies are present in wide-spread Equestria."

"Ah, so y'all are coverin' more ground."

"Precisely. Now, could you inform me of their names?"

"Mmn," Crimson rubs his left brow, "Forgot to mention that I got their names except fer one."

"Except for one...?" her ears drop to her head as she slowly begins to frown.

"Yeah. It was some mare, pink and yellow. She didn't wanna give me her name."

"Oh. A mare?"

"Yuppers. I got the names of everyone else though." It looks like the weight that previously pressed her was lifted off, along with her posture brightening itself. He smiles at her relief, crossing his arms as he recalls the names he was told. "First was Second-Head Mace Collateral."

"I knew he'd make it as Second-Head," she beams. "An older gentlecolt, but he is very wise and intuitive. He was here many years before I became a Royal Researcher!"

"And you somehow beat him to the top spot?"

"... Eheh," her posture deflates again. "... H-He wasn't very happy about that. Even I think he deserved it more than I did."

"Bull. Celestia picked you, right?" he asks, and she nods to his claim. "There you go. She saw somethin' in you that she didn't see in anyone else."

"... That's one way to look at it, I suppose." She adjusts her glasses and clears her throat before moving on, "And the other names?"

"Right. Next was Running Water."

"He's mister Collateral's right-hoof. I'm sure he's taken Collateral's old position as Head Scribe by now."

"Sure has, which sets us at the regular scribes. Lightheart Trot was one of 'em."

"Mm, I'm not familiar with her," Moonlight muses as she taps her cheek. "She must be new."

"Then there was that mare who didn't want to tell me her name."

"Pink and yellow? Pink mane and yellow coat, correct?"

"That's the one."

"She always was self-conscious about the silliest things... kind of like me, in a way."

"You know her then. I'm sure you two got along real well."

"I'm not certain if she enjoyed my company, but I certainly enjoyed hers, and her work ethic. She's a very straightforward pony."

"I'll bet. What's her name, anyway?"

"We always called her Swirl. She said it was the closest approximation to her real name that didn't make her want to 'assassinate her parents.' Of course, she was joking about assassinating her parents. ... Well, at least we assume she is. I believe she has yet to do it, since she still has her job and isn't in the Canterlot dungeon."

"Swirl, huh?" Crimson repeats thoughtfully, to which Moonlight nods affirmingly. "Strange. That name don't sound anythin' to be embarrassed about. It's kinda cute."

"Cute," Moonlight echoes. "So you... think she's cute?"

"In her own way, yeah. Her attitude might need a little adjustin', though. Anyways, the last fella on the team's named Magnifying Glass."

Moonlight's relaxed expression suddenly lights up. "Magnifying Glass?"

"Mhm. Told me to tell you he said 'hi.'"

"... He knows I'm here?"

"Yeah, uh, about that... I might have let it slip that you're here in Canterlot to him." Moonlight's eyes shimmer as he speaks, seeming like she isn't actually paying attention to what he's saying. "But at least he said he wasn't gonna tell no one that you're here. Hopefully he's a guy who keeps to his word."

Crimson notices the starstruck expression she has on, getting the hint that he might be talking to a wall right now. She twiddles the left lock of her mane with her hoof, puckering her lips as she lets her mind trail off.

"Moonlight?" he waves his hand in front of her face, garnering her attention once more. "Moonlight? There somethin' I need to know about this Magnifying Glass fella?"

"... Um," she shuffles in her stool, looking down at her hooves timidly.

"I'm all ears, Moonlight. If you've got somethin' you wanna talk about, I'll rightfully listen."

After a bit of internal debate, she looks up at him, "... You... won't tell anypony about this, will you?"

"Swear on my life that I'll keep my trap shut."

With another brief silence and a sigh, she leans closer to him and speaks softly, "He, um... Magnifying Glass. Do you remember me telling you I used to write to my pen-pals?"

"Yeah, I remember that. Figure he was one of 'em?"

"H-He was," she nods repeatedly, "among several others of course, but he was one of them. He, um... um..." Her bashfulness slowly overtakes her courage to speak, but luckily Crimson seems to catch the drift.

"I'm ripe to assume you 'n him had a little... connection?" Moonlight nods wryly to his supposition. "... Well, hot damn," he smirks at the shy unicorn, "Little Lighty's got a love interest."

"I-I wouldn't... I wouldn't call it a love interest, merely an... interest for... associating?" she smiles wryly.

Crimson crosses his arms, smiling at her goofy-like, "So yeah, a love interest." His smile is slow to waver, but with the sight of Moonlight's growing dejection, his front eventually changes to seriousness. "What's wrong, Moonlight?"

She doesn't immediately respond, leaving a thick tension in the air as she slowly reels in her thoughts. "... It's... nothing. Just... that part of me is being loud again."

"'N what is that part of you sayin'?"

"... It's saying I'm going to screw everything up if I try anything."

Crimson steps closer to her, standing at her side and coupling her against him. She takes the embrace, resting the side of her head against his waist and sighing despondently. He uses his left hand to gently caress her mane, keeping his face fixated forward onto nothing. "You're nothing short of a working miracle, Moonlight. I'm positive you won't mess anythin' up." A small smile grows across his face, thinking back at the strange, spastic demeanor Magnifying Glass had. "Hmh. If anythin', he's gonna need to be the careful one. Guy looked like he lives in constant whiplash."

Moonlight exhales sharply through her nose, smiling at his prodding. "He is a little strange, I'll agree. But he was very kind and helpful when I first joined the Royal Researchers. He was there two years before me, and he helped me get adjusted to everything. He is a genuinely nice pony, and... well... he..." Moonlight snuggles her head closer to his side, feeling a deep warmth emanating from his embrace, enough to give her courage to continue, "... he confessed to me years ago that he had feelings for me. Unfortunately... some things... didn't go quite according to plan. I had to leave Canterlot... but I'm glad he stayed in touch with me, despite everything I did."

"What happened that caused you to leave Canterlot?" Crimson looks down at her void-gazing eyes.

"... It's... a long story," she sighs as she leans off of his side, prompting him to stop his caressing and let go of her. "I'll tell you all about it some other time. For right now, I need to get started on these projects."

"Yeah, I get'cha," Crimson acknowledges, walking along the lab table to stand across Moonlight. He thinks back on a certain subject, one he swore he'd try to get clarified with Moonlight, but... maybe it isn't the best time to bring up negative conversation. Instead, he looks back at her with a small smile, "I was thinkin' about explorin' the Castle for a while. You don't mind if I leave you to yer lonesome for a bit?"

"N-Not at all!" she smiles encouragingly at him. "In fact, it would be preferable if you did. I really need to focus all of my attention on my blueprint, and I don't want you sitting here doing nothing bored out of your mind. Plus, getting to know your surroundings could never hurt!"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinkin'," he states, walking towards the doors to her room. "Righty-o, I'll be back soon."

Moonlight waves at him with her hoof, smiling as she watches him open one of the doors and step out. Once he closes it and she's left to her lonesome, she inhales deeply, letting her smile drop for solemness. She looks down at the blueprint on the lab desk, preparing herself mentally for the task ahead.

Crimson meanders through the halls of the Canterlot Castle with the paper directions Moonlight provided. The ponies around, the guards, the maids, and random upper-class snobs, they don't bother him, they keep at a distance, just the way he wants them to. He isn't particularly interested in small talk with anyone, neither is he looking to explore every nook and cranny of the Castle. Right now, his objective is simple: relax for a while while Moonlight does her thing. He figured the best way to do that was go outside, where the air of the cool noon awaits him.

It takes him an uncounted amount of time to reach his destination, but he eventually walks through a large opened doorway at the far end of the Castle that leads to the expansive yard out back. Fresh air encases his mostly-exposed body, save for the cargo shorts shielding what matters most. It smells very dewy from all of the moist and glistening green out on the field, twinkling with sunlight as they sway gently from the calm wind.

His eyes jump between all sorts of training equipment, obstacles, and pony guards as they perform their routinely exercise. There are also many generic living barracks, appearing copied and pasted several times to form a rectangular resting zone for these busy troops.

Crimson spots a shady tree a good distance out, clear of the Guard's traffic, and deems it the best contender for his relaxation.

As he walks towards the tree, he catches eyes from guard ponies around. The ones training and moving don’t interrupt their routines to stare at him, but the more idle guards don't hide their interest. He ignores everything around him, looking for nothing but to slack off under the shade.

Crimson sits down at the base of the tree, resting his back against it and exhaling through his nose. It feels good to just relax with no impending responsibility. He had hoped to get more time to himself like this after the debacle involving the Black Spurs was over, but sometimes things just don't go according to plan. He won't let it bother him though, especially now, when he's finally able to loosen up.

Now that he's doing nothing but idling, his lack of sleep is seriously starting to bother him. He's able to ignore it well enough while busy, but now it's effortlessly dragging him in. He lets his burning eyes close completely, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of his eyelids providing moisture to his eyeballs.

That is, until he hears a collective "Ooo" call out from a pack of guards just ahead of him. His eyes break open to look towards the sound, and he realizes he has a front-row seat to some stationary training going on. Quite a few ponies are standing in a big circle, with two ponies in the middle of this circle fighting each other.

It clicks immediately, this regiment of training that he himself partook in many times while in his old gang. Good old-fashioned sparring.

The two ponies in the middle wear their staple gold armor and they strike one another with bare hooves. Looks like two stallions going at it, and they are delivering some rather righteous blows. They're definitely not holding back for this, which probably explains the armor.

Crimson’s brows raise in amusement, enjoying the show as he relaxes.

They batter each other, standing face-to-face breathless and exhausted. This particular spar must have been going on for a while now, both contenders look about ready to throw in the towel. That's a good indicator of an equal match-up, where only the slightest mistake on either party could end the match.

And there it is, the window of opportunity that was required to win. The session ends when one of the stallions ducks under a slow but powerful right hook, springing up and upper-cutting the other stallion right in the chin.

Crimson grins as the loser hits the dirt with his head rattling in his helmet.

A rather decorated guardmare in silver and gold armor, similar to the Bulletpoint fella's but a bit more lavish, blows a whistle to officially signal the end of the spar. The victorious stallion helps his defeated opponent up, helping him balance himself and giving him some words of respect. They bow to each other and step out of the circle while the other guards around cheer and stomp their hooves on the grass, entertained and humbled at the sportsmanship.

A heartwarming sight indeed, it's like the Guard in itself is its own family.

Crimson's left brow raises when he spots the silver-armored guardmare who blew the whistle turning to look at him. Her face contorts in bemusement, giving him a rather critical stare.

Another guardstallion in similar silver armor strides up to the mare, telling her something excitedly. The mare ignores what he says, prompting him to repeat himself more seriously. The mare does nothing but tilt her head towards Crimson, signaling the confused stallion to look over as well, and now they both stare at him.

The mass of guards parade themselves in a group as they talk to each other and laugh, but the two silver-armored ponies begin making stomping paths towards Crimson. He crosses his arms and slouches, dragging his back downwards along the tree until he almost lies flat, making himself look as sleazy as possible just to spite their stern gazes.

Finally, they stand before him. The snow-colored mare with blonde hair and blue eyes, and the teal-colored stallion with grey hair and brown eyes. Crimson looks upwards to meet their stare, saluting with two fingers, “Howdy.”

“That was a shitty salute," scowls the stallion. "Don’t ever do that again."

“You enjoying the show?” asks the mare with less hostility, but still condescendingly.

“Sure am," Crimson replies. "That was some solid tusslin’ going on. Them's some good troops there."

“Thanks," the mare nods, "I do my best to keep their errant asses in line. You must be the human Celestia informed all of us about. Gotta say, it’s weird seeing you in-pony.”

"I bet. Don’t worry ‘bout me though, I’m just here to watch.”

“Pssh, not like you could survive out there anyway,” the stallion remarks, looking away in a dismissive manner. "Interrupting my fucking promotion too."

“You're right, I'd probably get smoked out there,” Crimson gives the bitter stallion a tired smile.

“You sound awfully confident for someone who just put themselves down,” the mare remarks.

“Just mindin’ my manners, ma’am," Crimson sits up a bit, leveling his eyes with hers. "Don’t want anyone makin’ a fool of themselves."

“A wise guy, huh?" the stallion squints. "What? Too afraid of getting your ass placed on a plate and served to you?"

"The other way around, partner. I don't wanna hurt nobody. Ain't in my nature to get rough with people who don't deserve it."

"Ch, you're reeeaally full of yourself," the stallion grumbles, leaning his head towards Crimson. "If you’re so righteous, why don’t you get your two-legged ass up and show me how great you really are?”

The man stares back lazily, debating to himself whether to entertain this stallion.

“If you’re too chicken, of course, we understand,” the mare says with a grin, enticing Crimson further.

Making up his mind, the man shrugs and rises to his feet, towering above the two ponies that are attempting to haze him. The two aren't shooken by his height, remaining confident and full-hearty.

“I won’t get in trouble for doin’ this right?” Crimson asks.

The mare chuckles lightly, “Nope, we’ll let onlooking ponies know you’re not just getting your ass tossed around by the Royal Guard for no reason.”

“Alright,” Crimson grins, pointing at the stallion and then himself, “You ‘n me then, hoss.”

The stallion blows some air out of his nose, staring up at him harshly. “Let’s go then, monkey-boy,” he mutters as he turns around, walking back to the sparring circle. The mare follows him, and Crimson tags along last, heading back towards the big pack of guard ponies. It appears that a new spar is getting ready to start, but the stallion in silver armor steps into the center and forces them out.

“Aww, but I’ve been waiting all morning for my turn!” one of the contenders protests.

“Too bad. Move," the silver-armored stallion demands, acquiring his helmet from another guardpony who was holding it for him. "That’s an order.”

The two contenders groan in annoyance, stepping out of the center, mumbling curses to each other against their superior. The unusual interruption catches the attention of every guard in the circle, even garnering eyes from guards at other parts of the field.

“Who’s Banter looking to trash now?” a random guard asks.

“Dunno. Probably some recruit or something,” another replies.

“No... look,” a guard points her hoof.

The group of guards now direct their attention to the towering man, who stands on the outskirts of the pack. The ponies closest to him clear out, making a path for him to enter the circle. Their eyes are wide and trembling as they witness this disparate human from merely feet away. Whispers begin to spread all around while he makes his way into the center, standing a few feet away from his challenger, Banter.

The silver-armored mare nudges Crimson's left thigh, "So, uh, we don't got any armor that's going to fit you. You sure you wanna fight Banter without any protection? He's probably not gonna hold back. He has a tendency to do that."

Crimson shakes his head dismissively, "I'm good. No armor needed."

"You sure?"

He nods.

With an indifferent shrug, the silver-armored mare returns to her original position in the previous spar as the referee. She clears her throat and calls loudly, “Alright, listen up! The human has consented to spar without armor! Therefore, we're rolling with regular rules! No weapons, no magic, no crying! Three knockdowns per contender! If your opponent gives in or can’t stand back up, the spar is over! Contenders, do I make myself clear!?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Banter huffs firmly, keeping his eyes locked onto the man.

"Sure thing," Crimson nods twice, returning a lazy stare to his opponent.

"Are you two ready!?”

“Let’s go!” Banter shouts as he spreads his wings.

“Ready,” Crimson replies, standing there with his arms to his side.

“Spar!”

Like a flash, Banter darts forward. Crimson feels a rock-hard hoof crash into his stomach, solid and completely unblocked. He stumbles backwards, coughing out some spit from such a quick and unexpected strike.

Banter dashes away after the strike lands, landing on the grass while giving a wicked grin as he whispers, “This’ll be quick."

The crowd watches with anticipation.

Crimson fixes his posture, staring at Banter with tired eyes. He walks forward, raising his fists up in an oddly relaxed, some-what defensive position. Banter darts forward again, and he gets ready to intercept.

A turn of plans: Banter drastically tilts his wing angle to loop around in a sharp backflip just before he collides. With this new trajectory, Banter gets his hoof under Crimson’s lax guard and strikes his abdomen again in the same spot.

Crimson drops his hands and holds his stomach, grunting and taking a step back.

The guards around yammer and blurt randomly:

"Is the human even trying!?"

"Damn, I felt that one!"

“The human didn’t know what he was getting into.”

Banter doesn’t retreat this time, he keeps up the pressure. His quick and agile form dances at Crimson's front, delivering a multitude of completely unblocked aerial punches and kicks. A strike to the liver, a strike to the diaphragm, a stomach blow, strike after strike, he doesn't relent until he has thoroughly battered his punching bag.

Banter winds up his hoof while Crimson’s discombobulated self staggers, looking to end their one-sided caper. He brings it in, releasing a cry of victory as his hoof crashes into his opponent's face.

The guards watch with wide eyes, some even gasping and wincing at the loud bash of the impact.

Crimson shuts his eyes and staggers back, tilting backwards... but he doesn’t fall. He throws his body forward to balance himself out, leaving his head to hang and his hair to shade over his eyes.

The silver-armored mare directing the fight squints, looking at the man as he simply stands there, shoulders slouched and head hung.

Banter's grin of victory slowly turns to annoyance and confusion, lacking the understanding as to why this man is still on his two feet despite the vicious beating. He cocks his arm back again, “Rr, ryaah!” and he swings, decking the human on his other cheek, rocking his head to the side.

Crimson staggers back a step but doesn’t fall, slowly turning his head to face the ground under him again.

“Rrgh," Banter's eyes narrow in frustration, "just fall down already! RYAH!” he strikes his face again, and again, and again, and again. “FUCKING! RRGH! FALL! DOWN! HRGH! MAKE IT! EASY! ON! YOURSELF!”

The silver guardmare takes the whistle into her wing, bringing it up to her lips, ready to blow it at a moment's notice… but her sharpened eyes watch quietly and intently. The surrounding guards have pity in their expressions, witnessing the brutality before them.

“FUUCK!" Banter screams, panting in anger as he readies to strike him again. "Just... lie... DOWN! RYAA! – Grh!? Huh!?”

Banter’s hoof is halted suddenly, caught by Crimson’s hand.

His hand closes... very tightly.

"Uh-wuh?" Banter tries to look at Crimson's face, but his head is still hung and shaded over by his red scraggled hair.

His hand tightens, and keeps tightening. An unnatural strength begins to crush Banter’s hoof.

“H-Hey! Let-- Irk! Let GO! Ack! Fucking let go of me-- Rhk! RrhAaAa!” he begins to desperately kick and flap his wings.

“You’re fast,” Crimson says, lifting his head as he smiles at the flailing stallion. He stops tightening his grip, now only holding onto Banter’s hoof like a vice. Banter and the surrounding guard ponies look at the towering human with silent, dilating eyes. Crimson uses his free hand to wipe off some blood trickling down the side of his mouth before continuing, “But you’re lackin’ strength. Your fast 'n frequent punches don’t equate to much if there’s no boom behind ‘em.”

"Ha-I..." Banter's panting form trembles at the man's wake.

Crimson swings his arm up, twirling himself 180 degrees. He brings Banter along with this movement, and he starts to spin him in circles above his head, over and over and over and over.

“WAaAAaAaaaAa!” Banter cries as he is spun like a lasso.

The guards around lose their shocked faces as they witness this bizarre spectacle. Their composure slowly breaks into a grin, then a chuckle, until they finally burst out laughing.

The silver-armored guardmare drops the whistle from her lips, attempting to stifle a snicker of her own.

After a good disorientation, Crimson stops spinning him. He extends his arm out to hold Banter out like a hunter who just earned himself some game, then he drops the stallion onto the ground, cleaning his hands together to gesture he's ripe and finished.

Once she sees that Banter is out of commission, the silver-armored mare blows her whistle, signaling the end of the spar. Some of the guards cheer and continue to laugh:

"That was insane!"

"What did we just watch!?"

"Poor Banter!"

"Somepony get a barf bag!"

"Is it bad that I kind of want to be spun around like that? It looks like fun!"

Crimson leans down and offers the nearly-vomiting stallion a hand, giving him a friendly smile.

Banter looks away with furrowed brows and lets his ears fall flat onto his helmet. Three stallions come up to him and aid him out of the ring, all appeasing to him and giving Crimson angry glares.

Crimson watches Banter's group of guards carry him away, welling with an ounce of guilt. "... I tried to warn 'em."

The silver guardmare trots into the circle, standing before Crimson and smirking up at him. “That was a crazy display you put on for us, guy. The way you played the second-in-command like a toy, I don't think he's too happy about that."

"I'm thinkin' he'll manage."

"You're either dumb as a rock or just stupid tough, but I’m guessing you were taking those punches on purpose.”

Crimson nods with a smile.

"Your face looks good despite all of those punches. Hardly a scratch. It looked like the hits were actually hurting you, until the very end there, when you stood in place and let him wail on you. At that point, it was too obvious. The way your body was moving? Your posture? You were standing with your legs shoulder-width apart, springing yourself to make it look like the punches were pushing you over. Saw right through your little facade in a second."

"Looks like I gotta work on my actin'."

“What you did was pretty ingenious actually. What you said to him was exactly right, he hits fast, but not very hard. Banter always prides himself too much on his speed, he doesn't focus on the strength behind it. Sure, he's in silver for a reason, but even the best need to be reminded that there’s still training to be done. This might finally be the lesson he needed to learn, so thanks for that. I’m Snowfall Winter by the way. Captain Snowfall Winter. Like, Captain of the Royal Guard Snowfall Winter.”

“It's a pleasure, Captain of the Royal Guard Snowfall Winter,” he mimics playfully.

Snowfall smiles up at him, anticipating the reply containing his name, but she is instead left in a moment of silence. “… So... yeah. This is the part where you tell me your name, guy.”

“Alright. But you gotta spar with me first,” Crimson points his thumb at himself.

Snowfall tilts her head, seeming intrigued by the challenge. "A spar? With you?"

“Technically not a spar, but that's what I'm callin' it. I'll tell you my name, all you gotta do is land one clean, unblocked hit, ‘n you win. I won’t fight back.”

Snowfall's expression lights up with interest, “That's it? That's all I have to do? Huh, might as well tell me your name now."

"One unblocked hit," he reaffirms the condition.

"Alright. Fine. You’re on.”

The surrounding guards look in addlement as they watch their captain taking off her regal armor. She tosses the pieces to some random guards, and they catch them with fumbling hooves.

Crimson and Snowfall take their distance, eyeing each other with grins that give off different energies, Crimson's coming off as playful and goofy where Snowfall's is confident and competitive.

One of the other guards in golden armor places himself where Snowfall did when she was directing the spars, taking on the task of referee. “The spar against Captain Snowfall and the human will commence when the contenders are ready! Are you both ready?”

“Ready,” Crimson says, raising his fists up firmly. It becomes apparent to the spectators that he had lifted his guard before when sparring Banter, just for looks. His guard appears solid now, like two pillars protecting his front.

“Ready,” Snowfall replies, spreading her wings akin to how the previous contender had done.

“Spar!”

A white blur, left and right, Snowfall becomes distorted lines as she weaves at an insane rate. She's easily faster than Banter, so much so that the spectators have a hard time keeping up.

THUMP!

The blurring stops when a strike is made before anyone had blinked. Snowfall’s hoof is located at Crimson’s left forearm, saving his chest from a direct blow. The punch was hard and strong, the perfect blend of speed and power, but alas, the strike was blocked.

Snowfall and Crimson, frozen in place for this brief moment, stare into each other’s eyes, narrowing them competitively.

Snowfall enters a flurry of blows, using both her hindlegs and forelegs as she twirls and spins in a powerful rush. Crimson quickly analyzes that this move-set is the same one that Banter had used, but it takes merely a second of being under-fire to realize this is Snowfall's own dance, and Banter was only mimicking it.

The guards watch in awe, taking in the opportunity to witness their captain at her peak. For many of the newer recruits around, this is a feature presentation.

Crimson’s eyes are opened wide, staring straight forward without shifting anywhere as he is pedaling backwards. His hands and arms move like a blur, blocking every single strike that shoots at him like some advanced automaton. The sound of colliding flesh is heard like an automated weapon, and the stallion who is directing the spar squints his eyes, trying his best to keep up with the rush.

Violent bashing of bone and skin, Crimson's arms are quickly becoming bruised from the abuse. Every crash of her solid hooves against his guard sends shocks of pain through his entire body until his nerve-endings shock their last. Sensation in his forearms is slowly fading, along with his ability to keep his guard up. While his face remains firm and unfazed, time feels as if it's slowing down, and this blitz is going on for an eternity. Unending punches and kicks with the force and damage of a sharp stone, forever and ever and ever--

Catch!

The guards around gasp.

Snowfall remains still, only flapping her wings after her final attack was intercepted. A spinning roundhouse thrown above Crimson's guard and towards his face is caught by his left hand at the middle of her hindleg. Unlike her attacks from the beginning of the rush, this kick was slow, sloppy, and terribly executed, leaving it as a perfect opportunity to step on the smoldering flame that became her barrage and drive it to a halt. Now, she breathes heavily in place, keeping herself hovering in front of him with the tiring flap of her wings as her leg his clasped by his unrelenting grip.

He twirls her around and latches onto her, pressing her back against his chest as he holds her in a chokehold but without the choking, only the grappling. "Name’s Crimson Sky, by the way,” he coos.

The guards spectating are speechless. Snowfall doesn’t bother struggling or moving, she simply pants, staring into the nothing while she rests against the man's warm body, festering in her defeat.

He finally lets her go and she falls promptly onto her four legs. She turns her head, staring at him with a squint.

“The spar is over!" announces the star-struck stallion refereeing. "The human--err-- Crimson! Wins!”

The guards rile themselves up and stomp their hooves on the ground:

“Iiincredible!”

“You think he’s cheating somehow?”

“Oo! Oo! Can I spar next? Please!?”

“Nono! Me!”

“It was MY turn!”

“You gassed yourself out pretty quick, which was your downfall," Crimson states. "Though, the attacks were solid. I felt every single one of those, and they sure did fuckin' hurt," he smiles wryly as he presents the damage she caused to his forearms, bruised to the point of trickling blood.

Some guards gasp at the sight, whispering among each other:

"Haaardcooore!"

"Tender!"

"Is he alright?"

"Ew, that looks horrible!"

Crimson puts his fists on his hips, chuckling at Snowfall's bitter expression. "Hey, if it helps any, I liked the boldness of your strategy, and I reckon if I were anyone else, I'd be on the ground right now. In the words of my sister, I'm just as stubborn as a rock. I can see why you're the captain. You’re pretty good,” he gives her two gun-hands.

After seeing her huff at his attempt to conciliate with her, Crimson crouches down next to her and ruffles her blonde mane. She almost bites his hand as he does, but she gives him a tilted smile to show she isn't actually upset, garnering a snicker from him.

“Embarrassed in front of my own Guard. You owe me a rematch,” Snowfall says in a perky but determined manner.

“You bet. We’ll have one eventually, but for now I reckon some of your other troops want in on a sparring session. I think I'm retirin' for the day."

"Next time you and me go at it, you'll be retiring on a stretcher. Get outta my circle, punk," Snowfall bumps his thigh with her side as she returns to her post again as the referee.

Crimson smiles at her and complies with her directive, exiting the circle by stepping between ponies that smile at him and hop in place as he passes them. He heads towards the tree again, hoping to actually relax this time--

"'N where're you headed, mate?" calls a stallion approaching from his peripheral vision.

Crimson stops and looks towards Bulletpoint, "Was lookin' to take a load off under that tree there."

"Ye?" Bulletpoint smiles proddingly and leans his head closer. "Is that all you got'a say for yeself?"

"Is there somethin' else I should be sayin'?"

"Considerin' ye shat on the two highest rankin' officers in the Guard, I'd reckon you'd have lots t'say!"

"Saw that, hm? I don't remember seein' you in the crowd."

"Just got done with me mornin' post, mate. Was headed to me barracks t'stash me armour, got that done, 'n I'm comin' back out t'see you in the middle of the sparrin' circle spinnin' Banta around like a bloody maniac."

Crimson rubs the back of his neck, putting up a guilty smile, "Think that was a little overboard? I ain't keen on hurtin' people who don't deserve it."

"Overboard? And Banta? One in the fuckin' same, mate. Nah, you did me 'n a few friends of mine a favor puttin' that cheeky fuck in his place."

"A favor, huh? Sounds like this Banter fella is problematic then."

"Problematic in't really the word for him, it's more like..." Bulletpoint taps his cheek, "... he's just an ass'ole."

"Don't gotta convince me of that."

"Oh, ye!" Bulletpoint suddenly beams. "Speakin' of friends, I was actually headin' to a friend of mine's right now. You said you was lookin' to relax? This chick's the best for that."

"She in the Guard too?"

"Ye, but she's mornin' post like me, and we're done for the day. Lucky cunt lives in the Castle instead of the barracks, so hangin' with her means we hangin' in luxury. Plus, I stash all me beer in her fridge, considerin' I can't keep the shits in me barracks. Down for taggin' along, mate?"

"You had me at beer."

"Ah, that's the spirit! Knew I was gonna like you. C'mon, think she's already at her room right now," Bulletpoint waves his left wing as he begins to walk.

Crimson pockets his hands and follows behind him, turning his head back to the sparring circle one more time. Amidst two mares grappling each other in the center and the cheering crowd around them, he catches glimpse of Snowfall gazing at him. When the two make eye contact, she smiles slightly and squints at him, lifting her hoof to her eyes then pointing it to him in a manner that says, 'I'm watching you.'

Crimson replies with a grin, giving her a two-finger salute before he faces forward again.

Bulletpoint has been talking on about something involving potatoes and wing feathers, but Crimson has only been focusing enough to vaguely take in the ramblings, instead keeping his attention fixed on his surroundings.

The direction they've been traveling heads directly to the East Tower where Moonlight's room is located, and that's exactly where they arrive, but they don't enter the first floor rotunda. Bulletpoint takes the staircase to the right side of the hallway, the one the leads to the upper floors of the Tower. Crimson muses at Moonlight's regal blue doors, hoping that she's fairing well with whatever it is she's doing. He'd go and check on her, but he figures it's best to allow her unbroken concentration.

They ascend one floor up and take the hall they come across, where this hall acts as a junction for the West Tower across the Castle. Here, many doors made of wood and steel are placed evenly, parallel to each other all across this extensive hallway. It's safe to assume that this is a sort of hotel-like residence for attendants of the castle, such as maids or scribes.

Bulletpoint leads Crimson to the first door on the right, seeing nothing particularly special about it in comparison to the others, but from Bulletpoint's "'Ere we are," it's the right place.

"She home?"

"Likely she is. C'mon," Bulletpoint clicks the door open and pushes it in.

"She won't get upset if you just walk in?"

"Nah, lass could give less of a fuck." He sidesteps and extends his hoof towards the doorframe, allowing entry to this dimly lit, odd-smelling room. "After you, mate."

Crimson puts his hands in his pockets and walks in, jumping his eyes around the room. Aside from being dark and strangely, but not unpleasantly, pungent, it's rather cozy. Upon stepping in, the elevation of the floor dips down a few inches, where polished wood flooring covers most of the room save for the carpeting in the living room. Said living room is directly to the left, where three couches of varying sizes sit very close to each other in front of a coffee table, which stands a multi-colored lava lamp that illuminates the room with its fair-reaching glow.

The kitchen is directly to the right, unseparated to the rest of the home by any sort of wall. Other than an island with some chairs, there isn't a dining area to be seen. There's two doors to the right, just off to the side from the kitchen, which are probably a bedroom and a bathroom since there's no other indicators of that elsewhere. It isn't the biggest living space ever seen, and it only has one bedroom, but that's to be expected from a personal quarters.

Bulletpoint nudges Crimson's side, "What'cha think o'the place?"

"I like it, it's comfy in here... and it smells like a mix of burnin' herbs and scented candles. Where's yer friend?"

"Asleep maybe. Wan'me to wake her up?"

"Nah, nah, I'm good with just waitin' here. ... Say, what's that vase thing with the glowin' globs?" Crimson points to the gently churning lamp.

"Magic lava lamp," Bulletpoint states. "Nutty, ain't it?"

"Never seen anythin' like that before. It's nutty, alright."

"Give me a sec-- Oi!" Bulletpoint suddenly shouts, attempting to get the attention of the resident. "You in hea!? Ya' got company!"

Crimson cringes at the absurd volume of his voice, mumbling to himself, "Guess we ain't waitin' then."

"When you're hangin' with the Guard's most nimble scout, fast response times are all you know," Bulletpoint psudo-strokes his confidence. "None'a that waitin' shit, ya dig."

"Thought you were one of them patrol ponies, not a scout."

"Ye, that too, but scoutin's my Specialist role."

"Mm. I've actually had a few questions regardin' the whole system here in Canterlot. Reckon I can get a few of 'em answered with y'all."

Crimson and Bulletpoint's attention is directed to the sound of a flushing toilet behind a door, the one closest to the wall and away from the kitchen. It opens up, and out from the bathroom steps out a yellow-coated, pink-haired pegasus mare wearing a blue knotted scarf.

She adjusts her scarf as she moves, sighing out in a stress-relieved fashion before her high-pitched, slow and sleepy voice calls, "Chiiill, B.P, I was, like, taking a peepee~" Her possibly purposeful rhyme is accompanied with a tiny smile. Her mellow, lazily-lidded light-pink eyes shift immediately to the tall man standing in her room. Her relaxed gaze is quick to beam at his sight. "Oh?"

Crimson's brows furrow in disbelief. ... There's no way. This couldn't be her... but it looks just like her. An alter-ego maybe? A clone? "... Miss Bubblegum?"

"... Eh-ah-wha?" she tilts her head, face turned like a lost and lonely lamb.

"Pfhah!" Bulletpoint releases sudden burst of amusement. "Fuckin' what? Miss Bubblegum? Mate," he nudges Crimson's side, "that's Strix Plume, I call her Essie. Essie, this is Crimz'n."

"... Who... who's Miss Bubblegum?" she asks, squinting her eyes in deep thought.

"Aheh," Crimson puts his index knuckle under his nose, stifling a chuckle, "pardon, I thought you were someone else for a minute."

"OoOooh~" she coos rhythmically, "you're talking about my sister, aren't you?"

"I reckon so, if she looks exactly like you. But now that I'm gettin' a better look at'cha, you ain't got a horn."

"Mmhm~ That's my big sis, Swirly~"

"... Swirly?" Crimson's lips quiver, trying to break his resolve.

"Yu-huh. Swirly Cutie, that's her wubly, adowabul name~" she murmurs as she tilts her head left and right.

Crimson exhales sharply, turning his head to look elsewhere before he loses his composure.

"Hoy-oi, mate," Bulletpoint raises his brows to Crimson, "If you wanna be alive for long, you don't let Swirly know that ye found her name out. I'm speakin' from experience."

Crimson clears his throat and nods. "Don't worry, I won't let her know."

"Miss Bubblegum," Strix hums with a tiny smile. "I like that name~"

"You do?" Crimson asks in astonishment, getting a sleepy nod from her in reply. "Truth be told, I was callin' yer sister that just to give her a hard time. Ain't really gotta use it anymore since I know her real name."

"Aww!" Strix hops in place, rather adorably at that. "That's, like, a waste of a cute nickname!"

"Heh, well," Crimson rubs his forehead with a smile, "you've also got the pink hair goin' on, just like yer sister. What if I called you Bubblegum?"

"Raaad~" Strix wiggles her body at the rhythm of her word. "I like your hair, dude. It's, like, this really sinister, intimidating shade of red... kind of like your name. Can I call you... Crimmy?"

"Quite a juxtaposition to the traits you just mentioned."

"I know right? That's why it's sooo cooool~"

"You can call me whatever you like, Bubblegum."

"Ahaha, I love nicknames~ ... Duude, Crimmy," she begins, scanning her eyes up and down his frame, "you're, like, super tall... and tan... and so hairless," she speaks with her tiny, unwavering smile.

"Describes me pretty well."

"Like, I'm wilding out right now. The no-hair thing humans got going on really trips me out, and, like, I've never seen a human this close before!"

"A first fer everythin', I reckon."

"Can I give you a hug?"

With interest present on his face, Crimson looks down at Bulletpoint to see if he's got an opinion on the matter, to which he shrugs and lets the man choose for himself.

Deciding well for it, Crimson squats down and opens his arms up, motioning with all of his fingers for her approach. Strix happily trots over and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his and snuggling into him as she emits a soft coo of enjoyment.

She smells... odd, like a mixture of a natural earthiness and vanilla-scented candles, but it blends together with the rest of the room, making the scent quickly fade in acclimation. Her body is strangely warm even though she's lean and firm. Something this small producing this much body heat is quite unusual. To contrast her lean body, her coat is soft and a little thicker than usual, making the combination of softness and firmness come off as strangely exotic.

He definitely has time to feel her though, as she holds onto the hug for longer than anticipated. Much longer than anticipated. She even begins to gently rock him left and right, quietly humming a tune in her careless bliss.

Crimson turns his eyes towards Bulletpoint, giving him a wary smile that signals he isn't sure if this is normal or not. Bulletpoint himself returns a cheeky, seemingly-aware grin, raising his brows over and over to mock the man's ignorance. "Trust me, mate," the smirking stallion begins, "she'll be there aaall day if you let her."

"Uh... Bubblegum?" Crimson asks.

"Mhmm?~"

"Could I have a beer?"

She breaks the hug immediately, gasping as if she just realized something extremely important, "Hoh, of course! How rude of me not to offer a drink!"

"Even though them shits is mine," Bulletpoint mumbles facetiously.

Strix rubs Crimson's shoulders, keeping her unfading smile. "Let me get one for you~" she murmurs as she comes off of him, walking towards the kitchen with a fairly lazy step... which, Crimson notices that isn't actually making any sound. Her hooves step along the wooden floor, but emanate no noise. "Take a seat on the couch, dudes, make yourselves at home. Mi casa es tu casa~"

"Whatever the fuck that means," Bulletpoint utters.

"Means, 'my house is yer house,'" Crimson adds.

"'N of course you'd know," Bulletpoint nudges Crimson's side.

They both take her offer, moving to the couches in the living room. Crimson takes a seat in the biggest couch and effectively takes up two cushions, and Bulletpoint sits on the single-seater off to Crimson's left.

"This ain't even your house, Essie," Bulletpoint calls proddingly.

Glass bottles clacking together jingle in the kitchen as Strix acquires two from the lot, taking one bottle into her left wing and one bottle into her right. She closes the fridge door and promptly makes her way back to the living room. "Swirly says that it's our house... so, like, technically, it's my house too, dummy~"

She gives Bulletpoint his drink first, then she moves to give Crimson his, and he nods in appreciation as he extends his arm out to take it from her.

Her unwavering smile finally fades away into a frown of concern when she catches sight of his forearms, only now noticing their awfully beaten state. "Duuude, your arms! ... What happened?"

"The madlad took a fuckin' beatin' from the cap'n, that's what happened," Bulletpoint answers pragmatically.

Strix turns her attention to Crimson, visibly wondering if Bulletpoint's claim is true.

"Take a seat 'n I'll tell you all about it," the man pats the sofa cushion next to him.

Strix shakes her head repeatedly, "Not with your arms looking like... like... like a spoiled eggplant! That looks like it really hurts! -- Wait, I'll nab you some bandees from the bathroom!"

"Hey, it's alright, I--" Crimson stops himself as the petite pegasus lifts herself with her wings and hovers back to the bathroom, entering and rummaging inside. He watches her disappear behind the bathroom door, then he looks down at his arms. He examines them with mild concern, then he looks at Bulletpoint, "Are they really that bad?"

"They look fuckin' dire, mate. They were kinda bad before, but looks like they're gettin' worse. Essie's right, shit looks like a mess of rotten peaches. How isn't that hurtin' you?"

"I, eh... tend to get hurt a lot. For better or for worse, I've gotten so used to ignorin' pain that it practically lost its function in my body."

"Fuckin' A, lad. Nerves of steel took to a new level."

"Daamn," both Crimson and Bulletpoint hear Strix huff from the bathroom. She trots out steadily and heads towards the door to her room, "I'll be back real quick, dudes!"

"Where ye off to?" Bulletpoint asks curiously.

"Going to the supply closet down the hall. I, like, for real don't have any bandees in my bathroom! Watch Crimmy for me, B.P! Don't let him out of your sight!"

"Watch him? The fuck--?" Bulletpoint barely has time to respond before she exits the room and closes the door behind herself. "... Fuckin' chucklehead."

"Heh," Crimson reclines back into the couch, thoroughly entertained by the display. "So... that's yer friend, huh?"

"Ye, that's Essie. Always been kind of an odd one, but there's a charm in that, ey?"

"Agreed full-heartedly. She yer girlfriend or somethin'?"

"... That why you looked at me when she wanted to hug you?" Bulletpoint smirks.

"Yeah, actually."

"Pft, girlfriend. Me 'n Essie? Nah, mate. Wouldn't even think about it, especially not these days. She's like a sister to me, ya feel? Known the lass since I was a colt."

"Like a sister, hm?" Crimson muses dubiously, using his bare hands to uncap his bottle of beer.

Bulletpoint follows his lead, using his hoof to effortlessly knock the cap off of his own. Crimson tilts his bottle over to toast, and Bulletpoint tilts his in return, "Cheers." They both take a swig of the perfectly chilled beverage, enjoying the sensation of its contents racing down their esophagi. With a sigh and a wipe of his mouth, Bulletpoint continues, "Eyup, like a sister. Now, if we're talking Swirly, that's a different tale."

Crimson's brows raise in amusement before he takes another swig, letting the stallion continue.

"See, Swirly wan't always the serious type. Reckon you met her?"

"Sure did."

"So you know how she is, then." Crimson nods to his claim. "I'll start from the beginnin'. I came from some shit'ole up North, next to a famous sight called the Neighagra Falls. About a mile East off of that beaut of a sight, I lived in some town that don't even have a fuckin' spot on the map, and everypony was poor as shit-all. Me mum was a whore, dad was a drunk farmer that bed whores. You can probably guess I was the result of mixin' the two. Lived me life as the mistake that I was. Constantly hungry, sleepin' on the ground, dealin' with ass'oles. Life was shite, 'n I had to deal with it till me tenth birthday."

"Damn... sorry I'm havin' you bring back these memories, B.P."

"Nah, mate, could give less of a fuck. Way I see it, you either move on, or you stay fucked."

"Amen to that."

"Anyways, I reckoned me life was a burnin' garbage bin for long enough, and one of me neighbors thought so too. She was a real angel, that mare. She was the only pony I can eva' rememba bein' close to. So when I turned old enough to ride the train by meself, she payed for me ticket and I moved to Cantalot to finish school, hopin' to get me life turned around. That's where I met Essie in phys-ed class, 'n through her, I met Swirly. Now, me bein' a little cockstain from a shite family, I was a troublemaka'. Funny thing was, so were the lasses. Mind, we was just kids, but, me, Swirly, and Essie always made'a mess of things. At school, at the park, at home, you name it, we's always gettin' in trouble and misbehavin' like a bunch'a mongrels."

"Bubblegum and Swirl? Troublemakers?" Crimson furrows his brows. "You, B.P, I can see. Them? They don't quite come off as the delinquent type."

"Best believe it, mate. They was wild. 'Course, now they mellowed out 'n shit, but when they was rabid, we had a different fancy, ya feel?" He takes a hearty swig of his beer, popping his lips off the top loudly, contorting his face briefly as to swallow the copious amounts of bubbly liquid. "Swirly... she was a 'lil different. Always kind of competitive and hung around colts a lot. Bein' a unicorn 'n all, she wasn't always the statue of physical prowess, ya dig. Still, she gave everythin' she did her all, even just to spite wankas that put her down. Maybe she was compensatin' for her name, but I couldn't tell ya. Her 'n I didn't really get along at first, but since I made friends with Essie 'n stuck with her, Swirly 'n I were forced to be around each other outside of school 'n shit. I couldn't count the details, but one thing led to anotha... the lass 'n I got comfy, ya dig."

"Hmph," Crimson smirks with levity. "Hard to believe you're talkin' about the same hissy unicorn that yelled at me earlier today. These were different times, weren't they?"

"Oh, you bet. ... You really go 'n call her miss Bubblegum?"

Crimson nods cheekily.

"Where even at?"

"In her office, I think. At that place with the fancy desks that have sinks on 'em."

"Ye, the Royal Research Labs. I'm surprised you're still alive, mate."

"I reckon if she wasn't workin' on somethin' important, the outcome would'a been more tragic fer me."

"That's what I'm thinkin'," Bulletpoint chuckles warmly, just before trading his lightheartedness for an air of despondency. "... She 'n I spent years togetha. Essie's always been a flower about it too, and even helped us out when we'd get our necks in a twist. She'd always know what to say to get Swirly 'n me to make up after a bullshit argument. That's why I was never able to see Essie as anythin' but a sister. She became the family I never had."

"Good to see you 'n Bubblegum still kickin' it. ... But what about you 'n Swirl? The way you're makin' it sound, it don't seem like you two are a thing anymore."

"Eh," Bulletpoint shrugs and looks away, finding something interesting on the carpet somewhere.

"Not very convincin', B.P."

"Things changed, I'd say. She's still around, I still talk to her. I mean, this is her fuckin' residence. She lets me 'n Essie stay as long as we keep the place clean, so I'm clear to say she don't hate me. ... Just..." he cuts himself off to sigh and take another sip of his drink, "... guess things changed."

"Ever tried talkin' to Swirl about what might have changed?"

"Hooh, mate, I've tried. Tried more than several times. Nothin' ever came from it, and she's a busy lass these days. Me pesterin' her don't help nopony."

Crimson hangs his beer bottle by the end of his fingers, gently twirling it in circles from the top as he contemplates. "... You still wish you 'n her were a thing?"

Bulletpoint flaps his lips and shrugs, "At this point, I don't ev'n know. Maybe I do, maybe I don't... maybe... maybe I--"

The door to the room opens up, interrupting Bulletpoint as both him and Crimson look over. Strix comes trotting in with several rolls of toilet paper and bundled bandage wrappings in her mouth and wings. "Mmm-bph!" she calls, bumping the door with her flank to close it. She carelessly tosses the toilet paper rolls and bundled bandages into the restroom, save for one bundle that she's aiming to use.

"Took ya long enough," Bulletpoint says teasingly, shifting his demeanor a little too quickly.

"Sorry, dudes!" she apologizes as she makes her way towards Crimson. "The supply closet was, like, locked! So I had to get a maid to open it." She stands before the man, placing herself in between his knees as she uses her right wing to reach out and take his left arm, the arm that doesn't hold his drink. "Let doctor Strix fix you up~"

Crimson sits up and lets his arm become taken by her feathered appendage, which admittedly feels very bizarre. Unlike birds and other winged creatures, the feathers on these ponies are pretty big and easy to count, and they feel quite fuzzy.

She uses her mouth and her hooves to manipulate the bandage wrap, twirling it around his wrist first before moving down to the rest of his forearm. From the slight sting Crimson feels with these wraps, they're already pre-treated and only require placement. Him and Bulletpoint watch her perform her methodical motions, until she uses her teeth to bite off the wrap and tie it all together. She then reaches with her wings and rests them on his right arm, but she waits before pulling it towards her, allowing Crimson the ability to pass his drink off to his left hand.

She continues mending him, and he focuses on the expertly-done wrapping on his left forearm. He twists his wrist a few times, swishing the beer gently, getting a feel for the bandages. "You an actual doctor?" Crimson asks.

"Something like that~" Strix replies sleepily, "I'm a field medic." She bites down the end of the wrap and ties it firmly, gently rubbing his shoulder with the tip of her wing, "Good as new. They're not, like... too tight or anything?"

"They're just right. Appreciate it, Bubblegum."

She nods sets the bandage wrap down on the table. She climbs up onto the couch and sits next to Crimson. "So, what was that thing you were saying? It had Captain Snowfall in it?"

"Right," Crimson takes a swig of his beer to finish it off and set the bottle down on the coffee table. While he speaks, his eyes are captivated by the gently churning lava lamp that shines the dim room an assortment of colors. "So, I was havin' a stroll around the Castle, lookin' for some place to relax. Figured outside would be the best place fer that. Made it out to the fields back there, with all them guards, 'n I sat down under a shady tree."

"The one that's, like, near the barracks and the sparring circle?"

"The same one. I'm sittin' there and almost fall asleep, but from the noise, I realize that the sparrin' circle's not too far off. So there I am, watchin' and havin' a gay-ol time. Next thing I know, Snowfall 'n this fella called Banter stride up to me, and the Banter fella wants to tussle with me."

"Banter," Strix murmurs. "Wanting to fight you def sounds like something he'd do."

"Should'a been there, Essie," Bulletpoint exclaims. "This bloke took Banta out for a joy-ride. Spun him like a ragdoll over his head so hard, he nearly chucked his breakfast."

"Hehaha! You spun him?" Strix chuckles happily, getting a nod from Crimson. "You spun him, like... like... WooOooOoo!" she wiggles her body in a manner that hardly represents what happened.

"Heh, yeah, somethin' like that," Crimson exults. "I tried to help him up afterwards, but he blew me off. Some pack'a fellas came in and helped him out instead."

"Ye, Banta's 'lil posse. They're like his fan club. Them fucks are almost as bad as Banta himself."

"Sounds like I pissed off more than one person," Crimson mulls.

"Considerin' they hang onto whatever comes out'a Banta's cheeky fuckin' mouth, I'd reckon so too."

"But, like," Strix gently pushes Crimson's shoulder with both of her hooves, trying to recapture his attention, "what about Captain Snowfall?" The pushing is soft and easy, but Crimson moves his body to playfully exaggerate the motion.

"Mm, right. So, after I got done with Banter's little ho-down, yer captain asked me fer my name. Told her I'd give it to her if she beat me in a spar. Wasn't really a spar, since I wasn't fightin' back, but the deal was, she had to land one hit. Just one, and she'd win."

"Right embarrassed the captain of the Royal Guard, he did!" Bulletpoint points at him excitedly.

"Wuuh? Nu-uh!" Strix's dazzled self shifts in place excitedly.

"I'm tellin' ya, Essie, you should'a seen him! Cap'n couldn't land a hit, then, at the end, Crimz'n grabbed her like one of them vines do ya' in the Everfree!"

"Well," a small smile grows on Crimson's face as he rubs the back of his head, "That... ain't really what happened." Bulletpoint furrows his brows, waiting for the elaboration. "Heh, so, uh, Snowfall actually beat me. It's why I told her my name at the end."

"The fuck? How, mate? You lit'relly blocked every hit!"

"Not all of 'em. When she first started attackin' me, I blocked the first... what was it... three or four? Somethin' like that. The next hit, a real sly uppercut, actually hit me on the tip of my nose. It wasn't the cleanest hit, but it connected. So, by my own rules, I lost at the very beginnin'. I was lookin' to stop after that 'n take my loss, but I noticed she kept hittin' me... reckon she actually didn't realize she landed a hit. So, I kept blockin' her attacks, 'n needless to say, that tricky little uppercut didn't get me again."

"So..." Strix ponders, "your forearms got mushed up 'cuz you kept taking hits from the captain?"

"Sums it up."

"You're wicked~"

Bulletpoint slowly shakes his head as he chuckles, "You done left the cap'n's pride in shambles, 'n she didn't even lose."

Crimson shrugs, "Way I see it, she didn't lose to me, she lost to herself."

"Fuckin' A, wait till she hears this tale. She'll prolly be right pissed."

Strix gently pushes Crimson's shoulder again, just as she did before, "You killed that beer, dude. Want me to fetch you another?"

"If it ain't a bother."

"Mm-mm~" she shakes her head, climbing down from the couch and heading towards the kitchen again.

"'N get me another too, Essie!" Bulletpoint cries, swigging down his current one until it's finished.

"Mm-hmm!"

"So," Crimson begins, "I've been wonderin'."

"Ye?" Bulletpoint reclines in his seat.

"Remember I said earlier I had questions about Canterlot?"

"Ye. You meanin' stuff like the Princess?"

"Yeah, stuff like that. More-so like the order of power in Equestria."

"Mn, Essie?" he looks over his shoulder, seeing her return with a beer in each wing. "Think you've got this spectrum."

She gleefully hangs each bottle for their taking, followed by the sound of simultaneous popping of both beverages when they open them at the same time.

"Thanks, Bubblegum," Crimson smiles at her.

"No biggie!~ ... Alriiight, so... the order of power in Equestria. That's a funny thing to be interested in."

"Just tryin' to familiarize myself with the world around me. You're more knowledgeable in this than B.P. apparently."

"Mmm-hm," she nods, climbing back onto the couch and sitting next to him again. "My duty in the guard is, like, Information Specialist and stuff, so... I know lots of weird and kookie things~"

"Color me impressed," Crimson raises his brows. "That's one surprise outta many you got, I'd reckon."

"Yeah, dude~ Do you wanna know another surprise?"

"Lay it on me."

"Did you know, I was born with, like, -- well, the doctors call them birth defects, but I call them useful -- but, pretty much, my hoof bones are smaller and shaped weirdly, and I've got dense fur on the ends of my hooves, so when I walk around, I don't make any noise. It isn't any trouble for my health, but it does make sneaking in and out of places pretty easy~ It's why Snowfall chose me as Infiltrator and Information Specialist~"

"I noticed that. Walkin' on the wood floor in the kitchen, I couldn't hear yer hooves at all. Thought I was goin' crazy for a minute."

"Gets annoyin', you best believe," Bulletpoint huffs.

"Yeah?" Crimson ask in return.

"'Cuz, fuckin' Essie loves sneakin' up on ponies 'n ridin' them in for a startlin'."

Strix giggles and closes her eyes, "You're too easy to scare, B.P~ Like this one time, I-- -- Uhp, oh! Wait, I'm getting distracted... ehehe, sorry, Crimmy~"

"Don't fret, we ain't in no rush."

"... What was the question again? ... Hoh, I remembered! The order of power." She looks at the man to catch his approving nod. "Yeah, so like, Equestria is ruled under Celestia and Luna. They do all the laws and stuff, with the help of the Royal Consortium, which is just, like, a fancy name for a bunch of snobby ponies that think they're better than everypony else."

"Wait..." Crimson halts her, "... Luna? There's another princess?"

"Mm-hmm~ Luna, the princess of the night. You maybe haven't seen her because, like... she's only out at night. Oo! This one time, it was two in the morning and I was really hungry, so I went to the master kitchen to get some munchies. I opened one of the fridges, got a box of strawberries out, and went for the door... but as soon as I opened it... boo! Luna was right there and she scared me!"

"... What?" Bulletpoint furrows. "Luna scared you? Real shit?"

"Real as real can get, B.P.!"

"That how it went down?" he asks doubtfully. "Luna went 'n rode you in for a scare?"

"Well... it was more like, she didn't expect me to be there, so I scared her so bad that she screamed big time... and her scream scared me. It was super loud! You know her Royal Canterlot Voice? It was even louder than that! ... But anyways... like, yeah, the two sisters rule Equestria and stuff. Hehe~"

"And under them must be the Royal Researchers?" Crimson inquires.

"Mmm... almost," she tilts her hoof left and right. "It's... kind of a weird tree-type thingy. After the princesses, the Heads of Bodies are next, which are the captain of the Royal Guard and the Head Researcher. Then it branches into more and more ponies. They're all in charge of their own little pieces, but Celestia rules them all when she needs to."

"Got'cha," he says before downing a swig of his drink. "So there's two Heads of Bodies, you call 'em?" Strix nods happily at him. "I've gotten pretty familiar with the Robes already, so what about the Guard?"

"What about it?" she asks curiously.

"What's the deal with the silver armor versus the gold? I've seen some pretty important ponies wearin' it. Is it somethin' given to high ranks?"

"Mmm... mm-mm," she shakes her head slowly. "Gold is for everypony in the Guard, no matter the rank. What does change is the rank on the breastplate and the color of the crest on the helmet. Red is lower-class, blue is upper-class, and white is Specialist. Anypony who has silver armor has a white crest. And you might be thinking, 'But Bubblegum, how do you get the pretty silver armor?'" her merry high-pitched voice tries to copy his deeper tone.

"You must be clairvoyant 'cuz that's exactly what I was thinkin'."

"Haha, I knew it~" she leans against his side and bounces herself off it. "So, like, we get two tests that we need to get good grades on, and if we don't, we faail! One is a physical test, and the other is a skill test. It doesn't matter what rank you are, if you do good, you can get a position in the Specialist Team. There's different positions, like Infiltrator, Spell Specialist, Tactician, Ranger, Field Commander, and a bunch of other stuffs. You get whatever position you apply for, or whatever you're best at."

"Do them silver-armored guys do somethin' special in the Guard?"

"Well... when we're chilling at Canterlot, we just do whatever our rank tells us to do. Like me, a low-ranking sergeant, my job is just to wander in a pattern around the Castle and make sure everypony's okay. Bulletpoint as an officer, he can give orders and he guards important stuff, like Princess Celestia."

Bulletpoint buffs his chest in pride.

"Princess Celestia is a pretty important stuff, I'd reckon," Crimson mutters airily.

"Psshehe yeah," Strix snickers, "but what makes us in silver special is that we get deployed on, like, super secrete missions and stuff~ The things that are too dangerous or secret for the normal dudes to handle? That's what we do~"

"Reckon that's why they only take the best of the best."

"Ye," Bulletpoint nods, "and it's also why I give big kudos to the cap'n. The lass has been at this shtick for so long that she don't even need to be a Specialist for a higher pay-grade, she's at the tippy-top already. Yet, she's still spec-ops 'n risks her life with the rest of us muckers. Mad respect to that, ya feel."

"That, and she's super down-to-earth~" Strix murmurs. "She's strict, but she's so real, y'know?"

"Wouldn't doubt it," Crimson concedes. "Knew there was somethin' I liked about Snowfall. Now that I really think about it, there's a lot of swell ponies around. Not everythin' was sunshine when I got here, but in almost two weeks of bein' in Equestria, there's been great company all around. Especially you two."

"D'aw~" Strix brings herself in and hugs his upper arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Right back at'cha, ye wanka." Bulletpoint sips his beer quickly and huffs, feeling the bubbly liquid warming his insides.

"Good vibes all around~" Strix coos before a strike of realization hits her. "That makes me wonder, dude... where did you come from?"

"It's a pretty long story," Crimson mumbles before he swigs some of his drink. "Not sure if y'all are really interested in hearin' me ramble."

Bulletpoint points his wing at him, "Like you said, mate, there ain't no rush."

Crimson looks at Strix, who's still latched onto his arm, wondering what she opines. "I like story time~" she murmurs.

The man looks towards the lava lamp again, letting out a contemplative exhale. "Right, well... the story starts with my dad..."

Moonlight's tongue sticks out of her mouth slightly as she focuses on turning a screwdriver with her magic, sitting the last screw that closes the little cube she's assembling. The little box as a screen on one face, similar to the screen on the bigger ANA device back at her home. It has two buttons under the screen and two dials, one of the left side of the screen and the other to the right.

She sets down the screwdriver and straightens up her slouched posture, mounting with excitement at her finished product. She had been working continuously on this little contraption with only interruptions to acquire lunch and dinner from the maid. With the moon now gazing through her window and the muffled sounds of the night, her tired eyes are ready for rest.

She levitates the little box closer to her, suspending it right in front of her face. In profound hope that everything works as intended, she presses the green button under the screen. The little box hums for a moment, making her ears perk up in anticipation.

Be-Deet!

The screen lights up, showing a green line beginning its trek across the screen. "Yes! Haha! Yes!" Moonlight beams with glee, hugging the little box against her chest.

"Someone's a little excited," Crimson announces from right next to her.

"HUH!" her body shocks in fright, harshly startled at his unannounced appearance. Crimson catches the little box when her magic fails to maintain itself, saving it from a possibly terrible tumble to the marble floor. "Crimson!" she calls angrily.

"What? I caught it at least."

"You scared me!" She huffs and adjusts her glasses, turning to look at him, "When did you get in here?"

"When you were screwin' this here cube together. You seriously didn't hear the door?"

Moonlight glances at the doors to her room briefly. "... I suppose I didn't. ... You, um... you smell strange."

"Heh, yeah. I would think so."

"Uhm... h-how was your day? Was it eventful? And-- ... wait a minute... what happened to your arms? And those cuts on your cheeks?"

"Ah, nothin' much, just had a little run-in with the Guard. Don't worry, though, it ain't nothin'. Harmless sparrin' is all. I actually got to know some of the folks in the Guard, did a little drinkin' with some pals... and..." Crimson trials off when he sees Moonlight's magic envelop his forearms. The bandages that have done well to hide the bruises and bleeding come off, revealing the atrocious state that they're in.

With a heart-sunk gasp, Moonlight's trembling eyes bounce between his and his forearms. "... Crimson!?"

"Moonlight, really, it ain't that bad."

"Bad? Bad!? This is horrible! Crimson, what did you do!?"

"Like I said, just some harmless sparrin'. It ain't nothin' to get worked up over."

"No! This is not okay, Crimson! Why would you go get yourself hurt like this? I am officially postponing tomorrow's endeavor until you are better!"

"Tomorrow? What was goin' on tomorrow?"

"We were going to a town in West Equestria, where Celestia's scouts had reported the presence magical anomalies. But not anymore, until your body properly recovers! I can't stand the idea of you being hurt while outside, it's extremely dangerous and I won't risk it."

"... Moonlight? You do realize the entire point of me goin' out with you to these field tasks IS to get hurt protecting you? If a little somethin' like this is enough to stop me, I wouldn't be the best guardian, would I?"

"W-Well, yes, b--but--but... no! You need to get better, and that's final," she demands as she uses her magic to effortlessly re-wrap the bandages around Crimson's arms, seeing that they're still usable.

"And what if I told you we're goin' out tomorrow either way?" he replies sternly.

"... T-Then... then, I..." she stammers, scrunching her muzzle as she fails to counter his assertion.

Crimson steps closer to her, placing the hand that doesn't hold the cube on her back, gently running his nails up and down her body. Her back straightens, and her tense form slowly relaxes with the affection.

"I..." she begins warily, very much still apprehensive, but not enough to argue against him any longer. "... I suppose we... could go tomorrow, if you truly insist. I'm... honestly a little eager to go. W-Well, maybe not... eager, but I do look forward to it. ... I know you're aware that I don't like being in Canterlot very much... I'd rather be somewhere else, even if for only a while. ... A-And besides! I know the town we're going to, I've been there before to collect soil samples before. It's a nice little farming town, very pleasant ponies live there."

"And I reckon this is the tool we're going to use in our endeavor tomorrow," he says as he holds the cube in front of Moonlight. "You were real focused on gettin' this thing finished, but it looks like you did. What is it anyway?" he asks as he brings the cube to himself, looking at the pulsating green line that lazily travels along the length of the screen.

"The cube you hold is officially the mini ANA! She does everything her bigger counterpart can do, but in a smaller, portable size! If any wayward magic is to be found, she'll catch it! I was, um, ehehe... hoping I could build a regular ANA, but I didn't have enough supplies. But with a few twists and turns of the regular blueprint, I managed to make a smaller one! I think a mini version that can be carried around will be much more useful in the long run."

"Completely agreed. And you said this place we're headed to is a little farmin' town?" Moonlight nods to him. "Be nice to finally explore Equestria without somethin' crazy happenin'."

Crimson catches Moonlight lift her hoof over her muzzle, yawning quietly behind it before she promptly returns her attentive gaze to him. He finds her interest in his words and whim adorable, but it's terribly obvious by the tiny bags forming under her eyes that she needs some sleep, and his gentle touch is only adding to her urge for rest.

"Looks like it's time to hit the hay." Crimson sets down the box onto the lab table, gently rubbing her back before he stops tending to her. "You've been at that thing all day."

Moonlight nods, keeping her eyes lowered and fixed to the mini ANA. "... Are you going to sleep now too?"

"Yeah, gotta be up bright 'n early for tomorrow, I'd reckon."

"... Did you find the guest bed in the room you slept in comfortable?"

"Eeh, it, was..." Crimson purses his lips, thinking of something nice to say before he settles on, "a little different from what I usually sleep on, but it's comfy enough. A bed's a bed, all that matters to me. Reckon I'd better get used to it, since I'll be layin' on it for some time."

Moonlight's musing gaze remains on the flat, traveling green line in the mini ANA's screen. A voice in her head wants her to speak up, to give a brazen offer equal to the one he gave a few days ago back at her home... but she doesn't. She remains silent, leaving both of them in the quiet of the night.

"Right, well," Crimson begins, putting his hands in his pockets, "I'mma go crash out. See you in the mornin', Moonlight."

Before Crimson can step forward and head to the doors, Moonlight puts her hoof on his upper arm, using every ounce of her frail interpersonal fortitude to stammer, "H-Hug?"

Crimson stops himself and turns his head to look at her, how she's leaning forward in her stool to the point of nearly tipping forward just to touch his arm. With a smile, he spins himself around, wrapping his arms around her as he brings her up off of the stool to hold her against him, one hand on her back and the other her flank. The side of her head rests against his, and her arms wrap tightly around the back of his neck. For a number of reasons, her breath comes out shakily as they embrace each other.

He walks with her in his hold towards the stairs, moving up to her bedroom. As he does, he admires her softness, her texture, and her silky-smooth coat. His fingertips sink slightly into her plentiful body, making her such a treat to hold. She smells so flowery and pleasant, a complete contrast to what he probably smells like right now. Moonlight doesn't seem to care though, so that's all that matters.

He sets her down on her bed, breaking the hold they had on one another. A small smile that hard formed on her face slowly fades when they let go of each other and Crimson steps backwards, putting his hands in his pockets again. As he backpedals, he smiles and calls to her, "G'night, Moonlight."

As she watches him turn and make his way down the steps, she musters enough of herself to return a somber, "... Goodnight."

She remains in place, listening to his flip-flops clack across the marble floor downstairs. The doors to her room moan as they are opened, and the click of the shutting finalizes his exit.

She lies down and rests her head on a pillow, levitating Soap over to herself and hugging him tightly as her tired eyes remain open in thought.

"That's a lot of books," Crimson comments as he watches Moonlight pack her light blue saddlebags.

"What's wrong with books?" she replies incredulously.

"Nothin'. I've never been against a good read, but I don't think those-many books are gonna be fun to carry around."

"We are going to be on the train for hours, Crimson. Why wouldn't I bring something to spend the idle time with?"

For a moment, Crimson tries to come up with a response, moving his eyes between her and the four novels that she shoved into her bags. He realizes that, while he might not be able to read several books in a span of few hours, maybe she can. And maybe she will. She also doesn't seem to care how heavy her bags will be, so with that, he submits voluntarily, "Good point."

Moonlight flips up the hood on her robe with her magic, getting her horn through the hole at the top and shaking her head to make it sit. She then fixes her saddlebags around her waist, tying the belt over her belly to keep it snug. With a deep inhale to supply her fortitude, she looks up to Crimson. "Ready to go?"

Though he sees the apprehensive energy in her eyes, he simply nods, "Sure am."

"Follow me."

Moonlight makes anxious haste through the Castle with Crimson following behind her. Very much like the first time Moonlight paraded him through these royal halls, the stares from ponies around are heavy and abundant.

Crimson finds something peculiar about this round of eyes though. Unlike before, they aren't coming off as judgmental or cynical, or at least, they don't feel that way. Whether it be a maidmare or stallion in a tux, interest is present in the faces of those around. Although the hesitation to openly approach him or Moonlight is still there, they certainly seem less oppressive. Whatever it was that changed, he hopes that it stays that way. It'll be easier to move around Canterlot without everyone looking ready to cry wolf.

This phenomenon even follows him outside of the Castle walls. Pedestrian ponies of all sorts wandering about the city cease their morning movement to stare at him, whispering to each other with raised brows. It's easy enough for him to ignore as they make their way through the marble streets.

Once Moonlight and Crimson arrive at the station, the train awaits them with an open boarding door, in part by Moonlight's expert timing. She pays for two pony tickets, allowing access to herself and the human with her. They both board the fairly-occupied train and get situated at the back of the cart where fewer ponies sit, with Crimson taking up a fair chunk of the room next to the window and Moonlight taking the isle seat.

Stares from passengers in other parts of the cart are definite, but at least they're not trying to physically interact with him. It's also apparent that Moonlight isn't too keen on taking her hood off with all of these ponies around, and with the notion that none of them seem to know who she is, she might keep it that way for the rest of the ride.

The train begins to move when the doors close and the whirling whistle outside chimes.

Crimson feels a nudge at his side, followed by Moonlight's softly-whispered voice, “Eat this.” She takes out an oatmeal bar from the small pouch on her saddlebag and levitates it to him. He takes it and unwraps it. “Our destination is the White Tail woods. ... And before you say or do anything, I highly advise taking a nap. I neglected mentioning this yesterday in hopes that you would get proper sleep last night, but you look even worse today."

"M--" Crimson halts himself from using her name overtly. "... I'm fine, don't worry about me," he mumbles, taking a chunk of the oatmeal bar into his mouth.

"No. You're not. You look absolutely ghastly. You and I need to have a talk about this when we get back. Please... take a nap. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Crimson sighs through his nose, nodding reluctantly with a mouthful of oatmeal bar.

Moonlight lets out a deep breath and sits backed into her seat. She looks down at her hooves gloomily.

Her mind begins an unending race with itself, pulling up thoughts and memories of times past, re-engaging her self-loathing inclinations that have become more prominent over the years in her isolation. Expectations unlived, relationships ruined, and failures amassed. It happens randomly. It happened just before she returned to Canterlot for the first time in years, and it even happened last night. That crushing weight that rises in her heart. No matter how hard she tries to suppress it around others so they keep their pity and worries away, it's dominating her now, and she has no choice but to try and ride it out.

She begins to unwillingly fidget in her seat, doing her best to keep it as stifled as possible. She hopes no one notices, especially not Crimson. The last thing she wants to do is worry him.

As the train moves along its course and Canterlot becomes further away, her tension rises and the overbearing stress eats away at her. It feels like needles are poking her skin all throughout her body, and it's becoming unbearably hot under her robe.

She thinks... she thinks maybe a good book could help her out. She uses her magic to open her left saddlebag... but she ceases any movement right after, suspended in viciously cycling brooding that drains her of motility.

...

"...!" she suddenly shivers in startlement. She feels Crimson's left arm wrap around her and take her into his embrace, effectively breaking the circuit of her self-deprecating mind.

Her cheeks and ears heat up from the sudden contact, though hidden under her hood. She is terribly unsure whether he's doing this simply because he can, or because he knew what was happening to her, but she doesn't fight it.

There's that sensation again, and it seeps perfectly through the cloth she wears. The same sensation she feels every time his hand touches her. She's always had a suspicion it came from him... but she wonders no longer. It does come from him. That oddly relaxing tide of delight in his hold, like if he was somehow sucking away the stress that was building inside of her. Like an oasis to hydrate a wandering soul in the desert, his touch soothes the toxicity that was vitiating in her head.

She trepidly shifts her eyes to the man that holds her, tilting her head to look out from under her hood. She witnesses his glowing irises shimmering softly with gold. She watches the magma-like essence in his orbs lazily swirl in circles, finding herself entranced at their sight.

Seemingly unaware of himself, Crimson continues chewing on his snack as he gazes out to the city of Canterlot, watching it become more and more distant while the train continues on.

Once Moonlight realizes that she's been staring at his face for too long, she turns her head away quickly and lets her ears fall, moving her eyes to the train cart floor. She wants to be embarrassed at herself, she wants to feel a mountain of negative sentiments, but under his hold, she finds it difficult to stress about anything. She even feels drowsiness kicking in. The anxiety attack she had last night didn't allow her to sleep at all, and her constant worrying about today's endeavor further served to keep her awake. She only managed to find rest in the early hours of the morning, which was abruptly interrupted by Crimson wandering into her room to wake her up.

It doesn't take long for her to take her own advice. She closes her eyes and leans against the human who holds her, and for the meantime, she distances herself from her troubles.

The train comes to a steaming halt. Crimson and Moonlight are both wide awake. The trip took several hours, and in that time, Crimson ate all of the snacks and Moonlight managed to read through an entire book.

Crimson is nothing short of bewildered at her ability to scan words at such a high speed. It was a fairly thick book, but she ran through it effortlessly. Moonlight had offered him a book to read and he accepted it, but he quickly found out that he can't read written Ponish. Moonlight found this phenomenon overwhelmingly exciting, and now English is another thing on the list of items she wishes to study.

The boarding doors open. Very few ponies are in the train now and no one boards, and the only two to get off at White Tail junction is the odd pair. The door closes, and the train is back on its path, leaving them effectively stranded for the next few hours.

Crimson looks up towards the sun. He sees that it’s already on its way down, with maybe two hours of daylight left. Moonlight takes out her mini-ANA from her saddlebag and presses the green button under the screen, waiting for the little chime.

Be-Deet!

She smiles slightly as she watches it come to life. The lazy green line that usually travels along the screen is now wobbling frantically, and the device begins to squeal like a radiation detector. She adjusts the nobs on the left and right sides of the screen, changing the squirming green line in the interface for a green-lined topographic map of the detected region.

"What's the little beepin' box sayin'?" Crimson asks.

"Just as expected, the magic signature is coming from the nearby town I mentioned. Celestia's scouts have yet to fail!"

"How do you know this magic signature is the one we're lookin' for?"

"The Second-Head Researcher managed to find the signature of the magic anomalies yesterday. He sent me a letter via scroll-send spell. It was perfect timing that he found such valuable information at just the right time."

"Second-Head knows you're at Canterlot?"

"Of course. Everypony in the team knows, I sent letters out yesterday informing the team in Las Pegasus, and you informed the Canterlot team of me."

"Guessin' they're the only ones to know. The ponies in the city aren't any wiser."

"They're the only ones I want knowing. I'm... kind of in charge of them, even if I don't do a very good job as a leader. ... Come on, follow me." She marches forward, stepping down from the platform and across the train tracks. She takes a dirt road into the White Tail woods, and they proceed along this path for a while.

Crimson looks around as they walk, letting the sound of nature please his ears. Moonlight is giving her full attention to the device held in her hoof, following its directions and sound cues. She would hold it with her magic, but doing so would interfere with its signal.

"Do they know you're doin' field ops now?"

"Mm, no. The only pony who knows we're out here today is Princess Celestia."

"You spoke to her?"

"... Nnnot exactly..."

"I wrote her a letter." "You wrote her a letter." They speak simultaneously, getting a chuckle from Crimson and a timid smile from Moonlight.

"Why're you writin' letters to her if you're like a ten minute walk away from her throne?"

"She's a very busy pony. The only reason she was at her throne the first day we were here was that she anticipated us. She halted several meetings she needed to attend to just to see us. The only real way to communicate to her is by her call, reservation, or by letter. She always reads my letters and replies every night, so that's what I use to talk to her."

"It's almost like nothin' changed from being in yer other house. You're still just writin' letters to everyone. ... You ever gonna go out 'n wander at some point?"

"... Maybe. ... I don't know yet. L-Let's keep focused on this for now, okay?" she begs him trepidly. He gives her a nod in response, silencing himself until they reach their destination.

Eventually, the woods give away and the path expands into a dirt field. Moonlight lifts her gaze up from the directions on her mini-ANA. “... Oh dear."

Crimson returns from his stargazing to see what she's referring to. Just ahead of them is a small town, the shambles and remnants of one. They watch it from a distance, scanning for signs of life, but find none. The only sight they encounter is broken, burnt, and destroyed wooden structures that litter the ground. Few buildings still stand among the smoking ruins.

They move forward into the town. It seems to have a similar style to Dodge, but with buildings built parallel to each other, instead of a T-shape.

Crimson scratches his head, “Looks like somethin’ just sacked this place.”

“And recently too."

The two see drying blood around the town, random splotches of it, scattered around in a way that can only be described by frantic horror. Bones are scattered in the same manner as the blood, yet no bodies are to be found. The cues around give the idea that the bodies were either completely decimated or moved elsewhere. The buildings that are burnt still have gently smoking embers, small orange specks of burning ash that still have seconds of life left.

Moonlight returns her attention to her mini-ANA, slowly moving between each building and its rubble to scan with her device. Crimson walks down the middle of this town, glancing at everything that encompasses him with sharp eyes. He figures that whatever it was that ran down this place, it might still be around.

He sees something strangely pastel under a pile of rubble and wood. He walks towards the front of a broken-down shop, standing just before this pile of interest. He kicks some of the rubble off with the side of his foot, revealing a corpse. He sees the top-half of a dead, fairly young stallion. The face of this poor pony is that of utter fear, the last expression he made before his life was cut short.

Crimson looks at the corpse lazily, unbothered by its existence, more-so interested that this is the only body to be found in the wreckage. He proceeds to kick off some more of the rubble, revealing that the top-half is the only part of the body that remains. His lower half is completely absent, where a blood-pool and intestinal tracts take the place of where his hindlegs would have been. Crimson crouches down, examining the sever-point on the stallion's body. “… Doesn’t look like any sorta weapon split this guy," he mutters to himself. "... Ain't never seen flesh ripped this oddly before."

"NUH! HUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Crimson’s head snaps like a turret when he suddenly hears a terrified scream come from Moonlight. He steps back into the open, catching glimpse of her standing at the entrance of the town’s rundown saloon a few meters off. “Moonlight!?”

Her ANA is beeping loudly. She turns and runs as fast as her unconditioned body will allow her to, weighed down by the books in her saddlebag. Crimson darts forward and meets her halfway, letting her run behind him and press herself against the back of his legs. He remains looking at the saloon, furrowing his brows at whatever it was that caused her fear.

“What? What was it?” Crimson asks hurriedly. Moonlight's quivering form fails to reply with anything coherent, so he keeps his eyes focused on the saloon.

...

He waits in silence. He only hears the mini-ANA's wailing, the breeze of the evening, and Moonlight's skittish breaths.

He balls his hands into fists, raising his focus against the eerie nothingness.

...

The side of the saloon is suddenly smashed through, and the entire building comes crumbling down. A figure rises from the dust and ash, flying up and landing in the center of the town with a ground-trembling slam.

Twenty meters out from where the duo stand, is a large, sharp-scaled dragon. Standing three-times as large as the human before him, the black and orange-shaded creature chews on something in its mouth, staring down menacingly at the human and pony. Moonlight is shaking uncontrollably.

Before Crimson has the chance to say anything, the dragon spits the item it chewed, a bone sharpened like a pike. It travels like a bullet towards him.

His hand moves in a snap, catching the bone just inches before its jagged broken end impales his chest. Moonlight gasps and flinches, gritting her teeth as she expected the worst. But as Crimson still stands, she returns her horrified gaze up to him. He reaches his arm forward, letting the bone simply drop onto the dirt. His brows furrow deeper in aggravation.

The dragon looks rather amused at the man's skillful catch that saved his life, now finding himself in need to hunt his food before he can consume it.

“Moonlight. Run.”

The dragon tilts its looming head when the human speaks. Moonlight’s chest burns with the urge to question and scream, but she heeds to his word and scatters instead. She uses her wobbling, terrified legs to turn around and run.

The dragon watches her as she runs away to the far end of the town. He spreads his wings and steps to the side, wanting to intercede the fleeing pony for an easy kill.

Crimson steps to the side as well, mimicking the motions of the dragon to keep himself as the center of focus.

Further amused with this human, the dragon returns back to his original position. Crimson does as well. The two gawk at each other. The dragon’s bright orange eyes dilate in a reptilian manner, realizing that this nuisance must perish before he can dine again... but he has a better idea. He'll take advantage of this human's lack of vertical mobility to mortify him and kill the pony he wishes to defend.

Without warning, the dragon jumps off the ground and takes to the sky.

Crimson's eyes open wide, his irises beam in their now-golden state. He squats down, his muscles tense viciously, and with a grunt, he launches himself up with a powerful jump.

The unsuspecting dragon is intercepted mid-air. The man latches onto the dragon’s sharp, curving scales, and with a mighty heave, he spins around with the dragon in his grip, throwing the massive reptile downwards.

The heavy creature collides into the dirt below, but he is quick to rise and leap out of the way as Crimson falls back down while driving his gold-enveloped fist into the dirt. The impact causes a gust of wind to vent in a circle around him.

The dragon returns to his original stand-off position. The human rises slowly, fanning his hand that he used to hit the ground.

The dragon’s eyes squint, staring into the golden orbs that lie in the skull of this human. He now realizes that this man isn't as simple as he initially assumed. He now speaks, his voice is deep, rumbling, and slow. “In my many years of life, you are unlike anything I have ever seen.”

“I get that a lot,” Crimson replies indignantly.

“That does not come as a surprise,” the dragon rumbles. “A human who can… speak words. A human who is… strong and capable. Not many creatures can say they've thrown... a dragon. Indeed, you are talented. You are… very rare. ... Unfortunately for you, that is how I enjoy my meat.”

Crimson squints at his gruesome claim. He can't hear Moonlight running anymore, so he briefly turns to see if she has made it a safe distance away. He sees her, hiding behind a barrel at the far end of the town. He now returns his attention forward to— “RRCK!” his cheek is bashed with the sharp end of the dragon’s tail who had closed the distance instantly, sending him flying backwards. He tumbles across the dirt ground until he collides into a barely-standing shop and breaks into it.

The building crumbles and begins to collapse on top of him. With a grunt, he quickly rises onto his feet and dashes to shoulder-bash his way out of the side of the building just before it falls on him. He runs back out to the center of the town, his cheek now donning a long, thin slice that goes from his temple to the right corner of his lip that bleeds in a perfect diagonal.

The man looks to Moonlight, seeing she’s still safe. He looks around, spotting no dragon. He can’t find him. ... But he feels him.

Crimson's eyes dilate. A shadow encompasses him from above, and he quickly leaps out of the way, less than a second before the dragon comes crashing down, throwing dirt and dust around. Crimson rolls along his back and onto his feet, facing the dragon again.

The fuming dragon puffs his chest as he prepares his internal furnace, then he unleashes a huge, unrelenting breath of fire towards the human. The fire envelops him, encasing the area he stood in with searing flames.

The dragon finally halts his barrage with smoke rising from his nostrils. The entire area Crimson was standing in is a huge, dusty, smoking mess. With a grin, the dragon leans his head forward to spot the ashes of the human through the debris...

Charging from the smoke, the angel sprints forward with a huge heater shield that protects his entire front, made of bright, translucent golden light. He shouts as he delivers a powerful bash onto the dragon's head with it, sending him up at an angle from the sheer force of the hit.

The dragon crashes into the same building remnants that he sent the human into, breaking and shattering pieces of wood into splinters. With mountainous rage, the dragon rises from the shambles, flying up and hovering in the air. In a fit of exasperation, he lifts his head and breathes fire into the sky. It has been long since a challenger has caused him this much trouble. With many deaths under his name, being handled like an equal is tempering him more than anything before. He stares down at the red-haired human in complete disdain.

Crimson’s hard-light shield disperses from his forearm into nothing, vanishing from existence. He stares back at the dragon with furrowed brows.

“You are no man! What. Creature. Are you!?” the dragon growls through his visceral teeth.

“A human being.”

The snide response tips the dragon off, causing him to charge again, “LIES!”

Crimson quickly springs to the side to evade the collision, but the end of the dragon’s tail wraps around his ankle. The dragon flies up, dragging him a few meters into the air before spinning quickly, throwing him downwards towards the earth.

Crimson collides back-first onto the dirt, gasping as blood and spit spurt out of his mouth.

The dragon descends and lands on top of the man, grasping him and lifting him up with one claw. He brings his victim up to his face, his raging orange orbs become slits of hatred. He begins to crush the man in his grasp, getting a quiet croak of pain from him. “You were a very powerful creature,” the dragon rumbles, “I do not understand why you wasted your life as a servant to those… weak… pathetic ponies. You could have been just as a dragon. You could have taken what you desired, when you desired it. You would have had it all."

Crimson's eyes dilate at his words... the same words spoken by...

"Fuckin' hell, we could'a had it all, Sky. We could'a made this land ours. With yer strength and will, we could'a had everythin'."

... Michael.

Crimson's heart begins to burn. His veins circulate with resentment.

The dragon grins at the vexatious human. "… No matter. Die now, in vain.” The dragon’s chest puffs, festering fire in his very being. -- “ERK!? -- UAARRR!” The dragon suddenly screams in agony, the fire building inside him becoming nothing but smoke released from his mouth and nose. The confused and pained dragon looks down at the claw that grips the man. He witnesses a shimmering greatsword of pure golden essence sticking out the back of his claw, punctured right through from the inside.

Crimson shrugs his shoulders repeatedly, rearing his head back as he squirms to drag the sword upward.

“ARRAAA!!!” the dragon cries again, feeling the weapon burn through his palm, causing enough pain for him to release his grasp.

Crimson takes his opportunity. Holding the handle of the greatsword with his left hand, he hauls it upwards with imposing force. It burns vertically along the dragon’s claw, coming out the thumb-side of his palm. Crimson continues this upwards motion into a vertical spin, spinning his sword with him like a tilted twister. The dragon’s claw is severed clean at the wrist, but the nature of the cut doesn’t allow it to fall off immediately. Though the sword appears thick and heavy, the true cutting-point of it is thin and precise, while the energy around the cutting-point sears like a raging fire.

Crimson's weapon disperses into nothing as he aligns himself onto the dragon's twitching claw. He presses his feet against the palm and he kicks off of it with a powerful leap, and from the force of that kick-off, the claw falls clean off.

The dragon begins to panic as he watches blood gush from his severed appendage.

Crimson lands on the ground in front of the dragon. His golden eyes stare into the dragon’s trembling orbs. He sees it, the quaking fear that is building inside of his soul. This oversized menace is finally feeling the helplessness that every single one of his victims felt... and Crimson couldn't be more happy to see it.

He is quick to dart forward when the dragon spreads his wings and takes to the sky, latching onto his hindleg and clambering up along his side. The dragon continues to fly higher and higher, the silhouette of the two combatants eclipse in the moon that is now beginning to rise over the horizon.

The dragon flails and tries to get him off by spinning and shaking, attempting everything he can to become free from his judge, but Crimson won't let go. He squirms and shrugs to no avail.

Or so it seemed. After enough fruitless squirming to allow Crimson to climb up to his shoulder, the dragon finally flings his tail to smash the tip of it against his face to swat him off.

The dragon stops flying upwards and pants deeply, smoke comes out in bursts from his nostrils as he watches the helpless human fall, plummeting several hundred feet towards the earth. His plan worked. The human is going to become a mushy mess of broken bones and scattered intestines once he hits the ground from such a height. A wicked grin of victory takes the dragon's face.

“NO!” Moonlight shouts from behind the barrel. "NO, NO, NO, NO!"

She knows she’s too far away for any of them to hear her, but her dismay has her shouting fruitlessly. Her eyes begin to water, her heart sinks as she watches Crimson descend to his demise.

Crimson blinks slowly as he falls. He feels the wind whistling against him as he reaches terminal velocity. His expression shows no concern, only tiredness. He didn't get good sleep last night as he had stayed in the Rift comforting Viola, just as he plans to do for the rest of his days here in Equestria. A worthy reason to miss out on sleep, he opines.

But now it's going to bite him. He closes his eyes, furrowing his previously relaxed eyebrows. He slowly brings his arms in, crossing them over his chest, then he brings his legs in, coupling his knees over his chest as well. His form flexes sharply, and the exertion of his muscles causes him to huff in pain.

Moonlight’s trembling eyes widen from shock and confusion. The human’s body slowly becomes a ball of brightly glowing light. It radiates like a small sun, illuminating the world around.

The dragon’s eyes widen in panic. Just as he had thought victory was his, now he is greeted with... this.

The angel's teeth grit, he feels his entire body burning. The passive Arch that flows through his bloodstream, his muscles, and his soul now manifests itself all around him. It glows brighter and brighter as his grunting becomes more intense.

Then, like a star exploding in the sky, his body extends from its balled position as he releases a warcry into the night, simultaneous to his body combusting with gold energy. Golden wings and a halo form instantly from particles of light piecing themselves together around his body. His eyes are sockets of pure emissive energy.

Moonlight and the dragon unhinge their jaws in awe.

The Arch Angel flaps his translucent wings of light to recover in mid-air. His head snaps towards the dragon, eyeing him with the fury of a thousand suns.

The dragon whispers curses to himself in his draconic language.

As the angel hovers in place, he extends his right arm out with his palm facing down. His hand is encompassed in gold energy, and his sword manifests itself into reality. Small golden molecules come together from the nothing all around him, methodically placing themselves in order one-by-one to form his weapon.

Once it forms, he grips it at the handle. He flaps his wings twice quickly, then once more with great force to project himself like a streak of light. The neck-breaking speed causes the sound-barrier to whine in protest, thundering at the incredible movement.

The angel stops on a dime behind the flying dragon, his posture is that with his sword held out horizontally. The backs of the angel and the dragon face each other.

The dragon blinks, feeling the gust of wind move past him, feeling nothing damaged or harmed in his body. He is confused, frozen, and unable to think properly. His world begins to blacken from the corners of his vision, but he doesn't know why. He blinks again to clear his addlement. Then, as the dragon attempts to turn his head to look back at his perpetrator, his head slips off his shoulders, finally breaking the weak frictional tether that was holding his head in place.

The beast’s wings stop flapping, and the lifeless mass of scales begins its descent toward the ground.

Moonlight’s tear-ridden eyes are shaking, both from fear and veneration. Her beautifully-glistening eyes reflect the golden light being cast from the angel in the sky.

But her astonishment fades instantly when his Arch disperses. His wings, halo, and eyes suddenly evanesce into nothing, and his regular, hazel eyes remain droopy as they stare into the void. He falls also, already unconscious before even hitting the ground. The exertion, the amount of stress placed upon his mortal body, it pushed his sleepy, nutrient-deficient self over his limit.

The dead dragon crashes into a building, now becoming his burial site. The man falls down and crashes into an old empty water tower, crumbling down into a mess of wood and rubble.

Moonlight runs frantically with tears streaming down her face, nearly unable to control her breathing. She runs to the scattered debris of the water tower, using her magic to remove large chunks of the wooden boards and concrete pieces at once. She finally spots Crimson seated on a pile of wood and rubble, like a king who fell asleep on his throne.

She rushes up to him, putting her hooves at his shoulders as she shakes him gently, “Hoh sweet Celestia, Crimson... Crimson please. Please tell me you're okay.” She places her ear to his chest, finding that his heartbeat is… normal. Maybe a little bit faster than normal, but still unnaturally natural. Dreadfully anxious and perplexed, she looks at his face.

His eyes don't open. They remain closed while his breathing paces gently, as if he was simply sleeping. And upon further inspection, he IS sleeping. Out of pure exhaustion, he fell asleep in the air, falling down to land into his seat of wooden planks so he could finally get some shut-eye.

Although frightened beyond belief, she takes solace in the fact that he is still very much alive. She keeps her head against his chest, closing her eyes and letting tears run down her face. She thinks back to only a few days ago, when Crimson was explaining to her about his power. She had completely forgotten about what he had told her... being able to form wings and such. He wouldn't have fallen to his demise, not if he had anything to say about it.

For some reason, she can't help but smile and chuckle wryly, sniffling once as she murmurs, "You weren't kidding... you really do look like an angel. ... My angel." She couples up to him in silence, staying in this moment for a mental eternity.

After only several minutes, Crimson suddenly coughs. Moonlight’s eyes break open, staring up at him worriedly. He doesn't open his eyes yet, but it doesn't take long for a goofy smile to plaster itself on his face. “… How’d you enjoy the show?” he mumbles, coughing out dust and blood after speaking. His eyelids separate enough to squint at Moonlight. She just stares at him, lost for words. “… Aww. Don’t look at me like that,” he coos in a quiet rasp.

“You… you…” Moonlight gathers the strength to speak, “… you could have died...”

He brings in the sorrowing unicorn for a hug, only letting his smile grow wider. He clears his froggy throat as he grunts, "Nrh, n… nah, gonna take more than… more than that to put me down. Just needed a little rest was all.” He loosens the hug to reach with his hand, wiping off the newly-running tears that trail down her face. He then begins to rise from his wooden throne, grunting as he forces his exhausted body to move. Moonlight doesn’t know whether to sit him back down or help him up, so she remains frozen in her indecision.

Bones are heard popping all throughout his body as he stands up. He tilts his head at the emotionally-paralyzed Moonlight. He then leans down and picks her up into his arms, holding her bridal style.

Just as before, in the train ride, her uneasy heart finds itself eased and relaxed in his hold. The worry is somewhat replaced, shared now between embarrassment and sadness, “… You could have died…” she whispers again.

Crimson shakes his head, wincing as he does, “Remember what I said. I promise I’ll be fine. It won't look good on my part if I got capped on my first run out. I already made Celestia a deal that everything will be okay. That you’ll be okay.”

Moonlight slowly extends her hoof to wipe the slowly trickling blood from his face gash. Crimson steps out of the water tower's rubble with a chuckle, “That bastard really did a number on me, didn’t he?”

“Well, least you’re still alive,” suddenly says a female voice in front of the duo.

The two direct their attention to the speaker.

A female dragon with sleek black and blue scales. For a dragon, she's isn't nearly as tall as the previous assailant, and her perfectly smooth scales shine lustrously against the lighting of the moon.

“You kinda just killed my brother,” says the dragoness as she files her own nails.

“...Brother, huh?" Crimson furrows his unamused front. "Well, he pissed me off. Can't say he wasn't askin’ for it.”

“Oh, totally. He was a piece of shit. I was hoping he'd get himself killed one day, so I'm glad that day was today. Thanks."

"Yeah," Crimson huffs and gives her a bored look whereas Moonlight is quaking again. "No problem."

“But… according to the Dragon Code, now I need to avenge my nest brother in order to preserve the lineage, and blah, blah, blah,” the dragoness sighs.

“... I’m exhausted, so it would be great if we didn’t have to do this,” Crimson mumbles.

… The dragoness smiles, “Well it’s a good thing I don’t give a damn about the Dragon Code then. I wasn’t looking to fight you. I was looking to ask you what in tartarus I just witnessed.”

“… Pardon?”

"Don't act dumb with me, golden-boy. The wings? The sword thing? ... The fact that you can talk!?"

Crimson’s slouching, roughed-up form sighs, “It's a long story. I’m an Arch Angel. Just think of me as a man with some sorta crazy super-power or somethin'.”

"Hmn," the dragoness raises her browline. "Are there more of you human angel thingies around?"

Crimson blinks unenthusiastically and shrugs, “I don't know. Look, listen… as much as I'd like to lollygag, right now, we got a mission to do. Moonlight?”

“Oh right!" her eyes beam in realization. "The signatures!” Having powered it down during the fight, she takes her mini-ANA out from her saddlebag then turns it on. It begins to squeal very loudly.

“Uugh, what IS that thing!?” the dragoness grunts, covering her ears. Crimson grins at her discomfort.

Moonlight raises her eyes to the dragoness. “The magic seems to be coming from… her."

“What did she say!?” the dragoness shouts as she still covers her ears to block out the wailing device. Moonlight turns it off, allowing her to uncover her ears. She gives Moonlight a very annoyed glare.

“The magical signature my ANA is reading, it's coming from you,” Moonlight restates warily.

“Magic? Dragons aren’t ‘magic.’ We’re elemental, there’s a difference.”

“I-I know, but there’s magical energy coming from you, with the same imprint signature that was captured from the anomalies Equestria has been receiving.”

“I literally have no idea what you're talking about," the dragoness huffs boredly... but after a second, a thought visibly strikes her. "Oh! Oh wait, maybe you’re talking about this thing?” the dragoness presents the tip of her tail where it holds a necklace.

Moonlight looks at it with wide eyes. Crimson takes this as a cue to set her down. She is quick to trot towards the necklace, eyeing it with great intent. In her interest, she completely forgets that she's approaching a menacing carnivore. She eyes the jewel held in the necklace. It’s a thumbnail-sized, amethyst rhombus that hums very quietly, only able to be heard if held up to the ear.

The dragoness gawks down at the small pony with little amusement as she elaborates, “Me and my brother took this thing from some loser a few days ago. It was technically ours, but since my brother’s kinda dead now, it’s mine.”

Moonlight turns on her ANA again, holding it near the gem. The device whines loudly.

“Rrrr!” the dragoness holds her earholes again.

“S-Sorry!” Moonlight quickly turns off the device, safe in her assurance that this is the objective. She reaches her hoof out to hold the necklace, but it is quickly swiped away from her as the dragoness flicks her tail away, causing Moonlight to back away in fright. Crimson furrows his brows and steps forward, balling his hands into fists.

“Uh, this is kind of like, mine?" the dragoness huffs. "I literally just said that. You try to steal it from me, then I’ll have a reason to get violent with you.”

“But w-we need it! It will aid in the understanding of the anomalous magic that has been plaguing Equestria!”

“Nope, it’s mine.”

"B-But Equestria!"

"Not my problem."

Moonlight looks devastated.

Crimson sighs, stepping forward until he stands right in front of the dragoness. She finds herself almost exactly at his height, and quite intrigued at his brazen forwardness. "C’mon, there’s some serious danger lurkin' about. Even if you don't care about Equestria itself, we need it. This is bigger than just some petty treasure hunt. If you're lookin' to live in a world that isn't filled with crazy magic animals and screwed-up trees, you'd best hand it over.”

The dragoness tilts her head, “Magic animals and screwed up trees doesn't sound all that bad~”

"D-Do you want payment for it?" Moonlight offers timidly. "W-We could arrange a trade if you'd like."

"Hmn..." the dragoness ponders. "... Nah."

"Listen, dragon," Crimson begins sternly. "Unless you're askin' for it, I won't get violent with you 'r nothin', but I'm fixin' to follow you around like a parasite if you don't give up that necklace."

"Follow me around? Really?" she asks with high amusement.

"Really."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

The dragoness clicks her tongue, finding herself back into a corner. "... Mmm, the idea of some freaky angel human thing following me around doesn't sit well with me."

"Good."

"Okay, tell you what," the dragoness begins, "I'm keeping my necklace, but I'll tell you where I live. I'm going to think it over for a bit, see what I might want as a payment for it, and then once I figure it out, I'll tell you."

"'N how do we know you aren't gonna just up 'n leave?"

"Because all of my stuff is there. I like my stuff, if that isn't obvious already."

“And, um... w-where do you live?” Moonlight asks.

“I'll tell you, but you two need to promise ONE thing..." The two shoot questioning gazes to the dragoness, waiting for her to continue. "You don't tell ANYONE about where I live. If you do, I'll literally abandon everything I own and leave with the necklace, just to spite both of you."

"Even if we did keep yer secret," Crimson squints, "what makes us believe you ain't ready to pull that off at any moment? Leave yer stuff behind and all?"

"Guess you'll just have to trust me~" she hums cheekily.

Moonlight and Crimson exchange glances, coming to a unanimous decision by nodding their heads.

"Just remember," Crimson mumbles as he turns his tired eyes to the dragoness again, "you're gonna have me on your ass twenty-four-seven if you leave us high and dry."

"Good thing I won't then~ So," she turns herself, facing the shadowed silhouette of the Canterlot mountain off in the distant night. "You know that really fancy pony city place that’s build on the side of a mountain?”

“Canterlot?” Moonlight asks.

“Yeah. That. I think. I don't know what that place is called, but I live like, on the other side of the mountain. Near the very peak, there’s a cave there. That’s my home.”

“… Really?” Moonlight asks skeptically.

"Yup. I've lived there for like thirty years, after I exiled myself from the Dragonlands."

"You exiled yourself?" Moonlight tilts her head.

"Yeah, but that's a story I don't feel like talking about right now. The moon's out and I want to go home."

"That makes two of us," Crimson declares. "We'd better get a move-on."

“BUT!” the dragoness raises a finger from her claw to Crimson’s lips. “Remember. You’re not allowed to tell ANYONE about my cave. No other ponies or whatever. ONLY you two can know. If you break this rule, you can kiss the necklace goodbye," she uses the end of her finger to flick Crimson's lower lip downwards. Moonlight finds a bitterness in her mouth at the touching the dragoness is doing to him.

“We'll play yer game,” Crimson utters. "So, what's yer name, dragon lady?"

"Name's Storm," she says as she lifts her claw, snapping two fingers together which creates a tiny spark. "What's yours, human guy?"

"Crimson Sky. 'N this here is Moonlight Wish. Now, I gotta ask, where were you when your brother and I were tusslin'?"

"Watching from the water tower."

"Hope I didn't disappoint the spectators."

"Best fight I've seen in years honestly. But, you kind of ruined it when you smashed into the water tower and broke it. That was annoying."

"What can I say."

Storm hums dismissively. "Alright, I'm going home now."

"Yeah, think we might be doin' the same--"

“If, um... if you don't mind, Crimson,” Moonlight mumbles as she tugs at his cargo shorts, "I-I'd like to survey the town for a little while... hopefully get the identities of the ponies that were killed here today. T-The train returns to the station at midnight, so we have some time before then."

"Ah. Of course. I'll be by yer side." Crimson turns his eyes to the dragoness, who's looking back at him intently. "Be ready fer me to pay you a visit tomorrow."

"Grrreat! That settles that then!" she gives a toothy smile, driving discomfort into Moonlight. "See you tomorrow, Crim-zun!"

She spreads her wings completely, casting a great shadow behind her before she lifts off into the air. With her dark blue and black coloration, she is quick to fade into the darkness of the night.

Crimson and Moonlight trek back towards the gently smoking town, finishing their remaining tasks for their field day under the radiance of the moon.

At last, the Arch Angel who has begun his march into ascendancy now illustrates his gift with unmistakable prowess. I can apperceive him fully, the silhouette of his body and soul are imprinted in the Weave for my unimpeded viewing. Indeed, now that he has activated his power, I delineate his movement across his current universe. The essence that Arch exudes is unique and powerful, where any other Arch Angel sensitive enough to its beckoning may descry its presence. Speaking softly, he is now under my scrutiny again.

Do not mistake me, I will not interfere with his doings. The tasks he has prompted for himself I will not waver, neither shall I promote them. Always as I have, I will simply watch, I will stand as a theatergoer to the play that is his life. His decisions are his own, and I will only offer him advisement and knowledge, for these two traits are what he has always lacked.

Yes, there are many questions our Arch Angel holds which stifle his ability to evolve. His absence of understanding to his own gift is a detriment to his true potential. Just as many Arch Angels, the culturing and understanding of their power is difficult to manage and expand. There are few who gain the required knowledge to use their Arch at its fullest, while many only learn the bare minimum to harness it, which is the case with our current performer.

An Arch Angel's knowledge to use and comprehend Arch comes from their forefathers, who accouter their foundations with perpetual failure. Families of angels trying and failing in numerous ways for countless generations with their anomalous gift is what builds the pillars of stability and strength for their kin, where the contemporary children of Arch could be taught the techniques of their ancestors and become fluent in their skill.

As stated before, our own Arch Angel we see today encompasses just enough understanding of his abilities to bring them forth and demonstrate their potentiality, and this is no fault of his own. In a tragic tale that never fails to accomplish its story, the Sky family never sees a father past the age of forty mortal years. Since the dawn of their lineage, I have seen it happen again and again - the patrilineal blood falls prematurely to the clutches of an untimely death, leaving their children incomplete and ignorant. The mothers of this same lineage have never been Arch Angels, it is always the fathers who bare this burden. That is why I find our very own Viola such a captivating addition to the stage, she is the very first female Arch Angel in the Sky family lineage, always birthed alongside her brother. Perhaps that holds some significance, but that is only an assumption with nothing to bolster the claim.

Nevertheless, we see that our Arch Angel follows the same dismal path as his antecedents. His father was killed before he was an adult and his older brother followed soon after. Left with little to harbor from his family, much of what he gathered is his own. Never to discredit anyone who deserves their due, his father did the best he could to relay teachings at any given time. With the few words of advice and instruction to lead our Arch Angel, it was enough to set him onto a path of righteousness and self-promotion, and this is what intrigues me the most. Few angels are able to achieve what he can with such little guidance. Had I left him to his own devices, what little he knows would surely be enough to conquer anything that might have confronted him in his home-world.

Countless Arch Angels exist in a multitude of universes, with many parallel versions of themselves that travel through splitting roads, yet none of them have quite seized my affection like our current angel has. Other Arch Angels do show promise, but many of them fail to demonstrate very specific attributes that are required to acquire my passion. It is why I am putting our angel through these tests, it is why I have put many iterations of him to the test. None of them yet have failed me. Truly, I believe the successor to my position is nigh.

Now then, I had said I shall offer him knowledge which he desperately needs in his current position. Make no mistake, I am not compelled to aid him in any way, but by virtue of my intervention in his cross-celestial relocation, I shall. I will gift him the knowledge to increase his functionality, and in return, he will surface as a true and powerful being of light. His Arch must resonate with the purest form of dynamism that he himself can wield in order to protect the Weave, as I have for countless millennia.

As I had previously iterated, this task shall not come lightly. The trials and temptations of failure always lurk in the mists of the heart. If given the opportunity, selfishness and greed will swipe even the most righteous down from their pedestal of honor and rectitude. Though, I am confident. I confide in our Arch Angel. He has yet to contrast his giving and sacrificial nature for the better of his own being. No, he has always given all that he could and more. Through the words of his own family, he is exceptionally dogmatic in his ways, and fortune holding him, these same ways hold him as a benefactor to those that make his acquaintance.

Innumerable iterations, infinite universes, I have seen him perform many feats. I keenly await to see how he handles the treacheries that will soon face him, and as well, I anticipate the dilemmas conjured in the hearts of those he tugs with his fetching disposition. If I speak my opinion, the clashing of emotions and relations are the front-runner to the show.

And now, I prepare myself. I arrange to leave the Weave and return to my home for only a wink. I cannot be away from my post for very long, as evil knows no rest. By tracking and tracing his essence, his awakened Arch, I will return to Equestria.

He and I shall meet very soon.

In the early hours of the morning, Crimson makes his way towards the adorned doors of the throne room. Just before retiring for the night yesterday, Moonlight and Celestia exchanged memorandums which elucidated the events of last night's field operation, and while Crimson is aware of this, he wasn't informed of what they wrote to each other. He reckons he's soon to find out as Celestia had beckoned for his presence just after breakfast.

He presents himself at the front of the doors, greeted by a familiar orange stallion in silver armor. With a quick and acknowledging raise of his eyebrows, Bulletpoint orders his buckram post mate to open the door with his magic. They swing wide for Crimson's entry, where he can see Celestia sitting at her throne much like the first time he made his appearance. He strides in with haste, keeping his eyes locked on her form as he moves forward. He takes a courtly bow once he stands at her front, keeping himself quiet to listen to her heed.

"Good morning, dear Crimson."

He rises from his humble salutation, smiling tiredly at her as he replies, "Good mornin' to you too, Princess."

Celestia's eyes rest on his figure, tracing him up and down without further speaking. Her running gaze causes him to look down at himself, curious as to what she's scrutinizing. He doesn't find anything particularly remarkable about his current appearance compared to what he usually looks like, now looking back up to Celestia with the same inquiring regard. He catches a smile forming on her lips as she tilts her head.

"Undeniably," she begins, "you proved to be an outstanding choice for the task of guarding my researchers. Your trodden appearance speaks more words than those sent in Moonlight's letters."

"I swore I'd do anythin' I can to keep Moonlight safe. I don't fall back on my promises."

"Even in the face of a menacing, fire-breathing dragon?"

"Even in the face of a thousand of 'em."

Celestia's smile grows wider at his aplomb. "And I believe you fully. I must thank you, dragons attacks have heightened in Equestria recently, and because these wayward stragglers are not officially under the affiliation of the Dragonlord from the Dragonlands, we cannot wage war against a kingdom for a fault that is not theirs. Slaying these delinquent dragons who pose a threat to my subjects is a favor I struggle to ask for even my best combat teams. As you experienced first-hoof, their ferocity is not something to be discounted. Moonlight made her distress about your safety very prominent... but I believe you are more capable than she imagines. You have my gratitude."

"No need for applaud, princess. After seein' what that overgrown bastard did to an innocent little farmin' village, he needed to die."

"And we all agree. I am very pleased at your dedication and willingness to put yourself in the line of peril. You have done well to ensure Moonlight's trust, and now, mine as well. Unfortunately, the objective of the field operation was not successful. Moonlight reported that the relic in question was not acquired and is still in the claws of another dragon."

Crimson's brows furrow slightly at Celestia's awareness of Storm, though he keeps himself hushed as to continue letting her speak.

"To our dismay, Moonlight was unable to deliver a clear report on this dragon's appearance or whereabouts. Even her portable ANA was incapable of tracking the signature as they fled from the scene. Would you, by any chance, have more information about the dragon that still holds the relic?"

"... Many pardons, princess, I'm just as blinded as Moonlight."

Celestia's domineering gaze weighs down upon him as she cycles his alibi. Crimson maintains eye contact with her without a break in poise, possessing the assertiveness she dawns on him with full return.

After a moment, she closes her eyes and nods once, embracing his words. "Worry not. Scouts are regularly patrolling Equestria from dawn until dusk. It is only a matter of time before the dragon will be found. Now, onto further matters. I have a turnover in duty for you, dearest Crimson. Please do not mistake me for lacking trust in you, but you will no longer protect Moonlight in her endeavors..."

Crimson's distaste visibly grows.

"... as she will no longer partake in outside operations. I am ordering her to remain in the city and perform research here. We already have enough bodies undertaking the tasks found outside Canterlot walls, and I do not wish to put my researchers in purposeless endangerment. I am confident in your ability to protect Moonlight, but I would rather ensure her safety whilst placing your talents in another, much needed, area of expertise. Your new position involves mission integration with the Royal Guard."

"I thought you said I didn't have to join 'em."

"And that stands true even now. You will not officially join the guard, but as you have proven to fear neither danger nor death with a skill-set to accompany your abandon, I would like you to consort with the Royal Guard Elite. The missions they are deployed on are physically and mentally strenuous, where only the best of my troops are burdened with the task. Instead of protecting a researcher, you will now protect a team of skilled individuals that will, in turn, protect you as well."

"When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. There is a mission currently in development involving an expedition to the Smokey Mountains in western Equestria, near the White Tail Woods that you had recently visited. Your debriefing will be issued by the Captain of the Royal Guard before leaving Canterlot."

"Hmh. You think I'd make a good addition to their team?"

"I have faith in your abilities."

"I appreciate that you hold a simple man so highly," he grins as he pockets his hands.

"A simple man?" she questions with an equally brash smile. "The furthest from simple. There is no need to be so modest... my angel."

"Guess Moonlight already told you all about that."

"Indeed. Our dearest little Moonlight made quite a detailed fuss about your power. Ahr-ch, was it?"

"Spelled like how you said it, but the 'c h' is pronounced as a 'k.' Don't ask me why, it's just what I was told. It don't surprise me Moonlight's twirlin' over my Arch in the letters she sends. Ever since I told her about it, she's been real piqued."

"With good reason. Even excluding your power, there are many wonderful aspects you hold that she has informed me of. Since you were first sent to her up until now, she has had nothing to say than positive qualities about you."

"It's an honor that she thinks so well of me."

"She isn't the only one, my angel, it would appear that the Guard is also quite enthused by the talking human. As well am I. I share Moonlight's curiosity to your power. I wish to see what you're capable of and if your abilities can be found in other parts of Equus. Unless your existence is truly beyond this realm, where your Arch is completely absent in any other creature here, there is much research to do alongside the magical anomalies that have appeared."

"That's a good point. I'm also interested to know whether I'm the only guy 'round here that's got Arch. Believe it or not, there's a lot I actually don't know about it. I just do what my father taught me, which wasn't very much."

"Mm, Moonlight's letters detailed your inexperience with your own power. Perhaps one day you could join the Court of Magic here in the high society to train and perfect your Arch alongside Equestria's most esteemed magic users. While I understand your Arch is not the same as our magic, there may be some fruit to be held from speaking to the wise mages."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"That is all I ask. Regardless of your inexperience, she reported that what she had witnessed when you fended off the dragon was nothing short of astonishing. I would wish for a demonstration of your Arch, but Moonlight also highlighted the idea that it is very taxing on your body. I could not argue against it. You look considerably more worn this morning in comparison to when we had first met."

"Not everythin' I can do gasses me out right outta the gate. There's a few things I can do here 'n there that I learned which don't poke a hole in my boat."

With tempt, Celestia smiles, "Lovely. As a teacher in magic studies, it is difficult to contain my curiosity. Could I bother for a spectacle?"

"With pleasure." He walks towards the base of her throne's stairs and stares up at Celestia from below, receiving her fully absorbed gaze. The coloration in his irises suddenly sheen with radiant golden light, and his body follows suit with the flexing of his muscles.

Celestia's brows raise in beguilement to the energy that gently churns in his orbs.

Crimson bends his knees before he huffs, "Up!" and he springs into the air like a coil. Proceeding to perform a menagerie of complicated aerial acrobatics, he spins and twirls in the air as he falls to land back down onto his toes at the very top of the throne stairs, standing only feet away from Celestia's front.

Delighted with the display, Celestia giggles with her hoof in front of her mouth. Crimson closes his eyes and bows to her, where she gives rejoinder by clapping her hooves together and complimenting, "Your finesse is remarkable. Truly, I am impressed."

"Obliged, princess, but that wasn't what I wanted to show you."

"No?" her mouth remains in that same syllable.

"You alright with physical contact?"

"That is an intriguing way to ask whether or not you may touch me. How bold." She turns her head to the right slightly in a audacious manner, keeping her eyes fixed on him. "You may."

Crimson simpers at her ingratiating nature. Being a mare of her stature and status, it isn't unanticipated that she would be so unvexed. She doesn't look too much older than other mares, but her mannerisms aerate a certain maturity that is found uniquely in her.

With her verbal approval, he approaches Celestia until there is but inches separating them. He comes down onto his left knee to level his eyes with the sitting princess, gazing into her beautifully-lashed pink orbs. He can see in her large, reflective pupils, the sheen from the golden light produced by his own eyes. Celestia and Crimson share a moment of silentious blinks, only beaming into each other in the amber of the morning sun which lightens the throne room through the stained glass.

Crimson reaches his right hand towards her face, causing Celestia to briefly break eye contact in order to look at it approach. He brings his hand to her left cheek, cupping the side of her face into his palm.

The small smile present on Celestia's lips grows slightly wider as she settles into the touch. While she tilts her head to lean into his palm, his fingers gently and pleasantly scratch the bottom of her ear, sending shivers of delight through her body. Though comforting, the most prominent sensation of his touch isn't the caressing, it's the tide of surreal comfort fills her form from her head to her hooves. Her flowing, feminine eyes blink slowly as they fall closed on their own accord, resting blissfully in the wave that drowns her woes away, even those that she entirely unaware of. She tilts her head further into his hold, causing a lock of her luscious pink mane falls from behind her ear over her left eye.

While channeling his power, Crimson admires the innocent beauty of this elegant mare as she sinks into his embrace. Through this physical contact, his Arch runs like an electrical current from his body to hers then back to his. As it leaves his body and rides into the person he touches, the molecules of golden light flow through their bloodstream as invisible, temporary passengers that carry out several tasks before returning to him. They snatch and encapsulate excess stress hormones caused by the natural over-worrying that sentient creatures make habit, replace them with a nearly insignificant amount of serotonin, and then return to him with the stress bottled up. Since there is no other deposit for the stress hormones, he releases it into his own body and rides the discomfort. In essence, Crimson is stealing her stress away, untensing her locked and strained nerves and muscles, and giving it to himself in return. Unbeknownst to his partner, his body is tightening from the newly added distention, his body completely abhors what he is doing to it, but he doesn't care. He only cares for the comfort of those he holds dear.

"You're tense, princess," Crimson murmurs.

"Mn," her eyes reopen slightly to ogle his, "perhaps a little. Though I try not to worry about menial things, so many burdens constantly demand my attention."

"As the ruler of a country, I wouldn't doubt it."

As they fall back into reticence, Celestia's amicable smile fades while she evanesces into repose. But before she could truly wane into tranquility, Crimson's hand excuses itself from her cheek delicately, leaving her ample opportunity to straighten her posture and return to reality. Her blinking eyes watch his hand pull away, silently wishing it would stay.

Crimson's eyes cease their glowing, but his smile remains on his face. Celestia's serene expression lingers even after he has pulled away, keeping them in a gaze of silence before he speaks. "... What'cha think?"

"I think..." she sits up straight to reassert her formal sitting posture, "that you are marvelously gifted. It seems that your abilities span wide in versatility, with the strength to dispatch a dragon, but also the care to lull a weary soul into a peaceful slumber."

"Glad you like it."

"Moonlight was telling the truth about you once more. I found it rather peculiar that she described your touch as 'surreal' and 'comforting.' I had believed that this was one of her personal illusions derived from her admiration to you... but now I understand. Your touch truly is what she described. If I may say, I'm a little jealous of Moonlight that she has your company. She must be ecstatic to have found such a unique pairing for herself."

"Pairin' for herself? ... You sayin' me 'n Moonlight are a thing?"

"Is that not the case?"

"Mm-mm," he shakes his head, "she's got a thing goin' fer one of them researcher fellas. Magnifying Glass, I think his name was."

"Magnifying Glass the scribe?"

"The very one."

"How peculiar that Moonlight is still interested in him."

"She is, and our pal Glass is pretty riled up on Moonlight too. I ain't lookin' to be a home-wrecker, so I'll keep my reservations. To boot, Moonlight's a pony and I'm a man. I don't think it would work out either way... at least, I don't reckon it would... less you ponies are into humans," his tone reflects his impartial expression as he recalls a certain previous happening, where Celestia immediately latches onto his bemusement.

"When it comes to humans and ponies, you might say that there is a particular... niche. Speaking for the entire, ponies do not perform elicit actions with their humans. It is frowned upon to have relations with any pet at all, humans included. Intercourse with animals who are unsanitary and unable to speak a language are not to be ravished, but of course, there are outliers in all things."

"Mm, so it's a taboo." Celestia nods at his assertion. "... 'N what do you think about it?"

"I have no opinion on the matter. As long as nopony or no creature is hurt, it does not bother me. ... I know what you are thinking, my angel..."

Crimson furrows dubiously.

"My subjects who boast the royal bath house are, in fact, apart of the niche I am referring to."

"So you knew what I was gettin' into when I got cleaned up."

"Partially. I have already told them not to perform sexually explicit acts with the humans that they clean, and I do believe they've become better with it over the past few years, but it is not a rule I actively enforce. I only fear for their safety, humans can be very unpredictable."

"Yeah, I've gotten a familiar with that. A lot of the scratches you see on my body are because of my own kind. ... Well, I ain't one to judge. Looks like everyone's got a kink in 'em, and them spa gals likin' to shag humans must be theirs... and Moonlight's, if I take what you said as gospel. Guess I find it bizarre, is all. It's like the equivalent of me layin' in on a horse from back in my home-world."

"Oh no, do not mistake me, my angel. I don't believe Moonlight has ever considered relations with an Equestrian human before. Unlike the humans we ponies are familiar with, you are their opposite. You posses many qualities of an intelligent pony, and that is very attractive regardless of species. I'm very surprised that chose to Moonlight keep her old love interest even after so many years."

"Maybe they're good for it. You know the sayin', 'if it leaves you and it comes back, it was meant to stay.' I reckon it's somethin' to that effect. Plus, a mare like her deserves a family. I don't reckon I could give it to her if she chose me as her significant other, so, good fer Glassy-boy on his nab of an intelligent, wonderful partner. I hope nothin' but the best for 'em, but, eh... y'know, I never did find out why she had to move from Canterlot in the first place."

"Has Moonlight kept it a secret from you?"

"I wouldn't say that. I feel like she'd have told me by now, but a good opportunity to really talk about it hasn't come up, 'n I don't wanna clamp an unnecessary conversation. Plus, it might be a memory she don't like thinkin' on very much, so I'd rather not force her to re-live it all in her head."

Celestia quietly ponders on his words, resting her eyes on the diagonal gash that rides from his right lip corner to his ear. "... Are you aware that Moonlight trusts you very dearly?"

"Yeah. I am."

"... The only ponies who know what had happened to her are her parents, my sister, and myself. Should we include you, you will keep this knowledge only to yourself as a reflection of your friendship to her."

"Then that's exactly what I'll do."

Celestia tilts her head up, lifting her chin up to stare past Crimson, while he himself leans back to sit on the carpet in front of her throne, keeping his knees in front of him and his inner elbows rested on top of them. The princess reminisces onto memories from nearly a decade ago, pulling them back up from the recesses of her mind to the forefront of her ideation. As the events realign, she begins her descant, "Let us go back to nine years in the past..."

"To understand the story well, I'll tell you where she began," Celestia speaks. "Moonlight was young, a newly-aged mare of seventeen years. She was soon to graduate from the Canterlot Academy of Magic. Her final assignment prior to her graduation was a research paper, and her topic of choice was the properties of reverse-enchantment magic. After many late nights and a broken sleeping schedule, she submitted the paper to her professor. Needless to say, it was nothing short of awe-inspiring. So many intricacies to spells previously thought simple, she had shone new light into the fundamental study of magic. Everypony was swept away by her dedication to knowledge and analysis. It was so well-crafted and carefully explained, the current Royal Research Team and I came to the decision that we wanted her as a researcher. Eager to relay the offer, I had informed her of this just before her graduation, which was... erroneous, on my part. While she could deliver an insightful speech about an informational topic to a crowd, she never was the socially confident kind, especially when there was a distraction present. She became so anxious and apprehensive after I offered her a position as a researcher, she couldn't give her acceptance speech for graduating with the highest honors in her class. The stress of deciding whether to take my offer or not placed a lot of weight on her shoulders during such a busy time in her life, and I still feel guilty to this day. Though her mind is sharp and bright, her aspirations were simple and humble. Moonlight wanted to become a teacher at Magic Kindergarten, the elementary she attended as a foal. Her joy for teaching was rivaled only by her love of caring for foals. As you can imagine, becoming a researcher for Equestria's most esteemed science team was a responsibility far beyond being an elementary school teacher. The sudden offer I proposed to her was a big decision, and I don't blame her for being overburdened. Thankfully, Moonlight's closest and dearest friend, Cherry Snow, took up the task of delivering the speech she wrote to her graduating class. Thankfully, it all turned out well, her classmates were nothing short of supportive with her indirectly delivered words of thanks and humility. Moonlight was never a popular student, but she was highly respected for her talent and devotion, and it truly showed on that day."

"Tail back a minute," Crimson waves his hand for a halt. "Moonlight's closest friend? She's never let me in on that, 'n I've never seen anyone visit her. Is this friend still around?"

"Indeed she is. As a matter of fact, she works here at the Castle library. I do not believe miss Snow is informed that Moonlight has returned. Which makes sense, I believe many are unaware she has arrived at Canterlot. It shoulder be sooner or later that miss Snow should know. From what I remember, her relationship with Moonlight is still amicable."

"Cherry Snow's her name?" he asks, to which Celestia responds with a nod. "Hmn. Good to have a friendly face nearby. I'll keep that in mind."

"Agreed. She was the only true friend Moonlight ever made. I remember miss Snow being very comfortable around Moonlight and her parents."

"Hm. If it ain't too nosy for me to ask, where're Moonlight's parents? They here in Canterlot?"

"Yes they are. It was one of Moonlight's biggest motivations for joining the Royal Researchers. She was required to move into the Castle immediately after graduation to begin her work, but fortunately, it wasn’t very far from her original home in the Blueleaf housing district in upper Canterlot. All housing expenses paid, free meals, countless services, her parents were more excited for her than she was for herself. After some internal debate and the encouragement of her family, Moonlight took the position as a Scribe. It pleased me greatly to see her working in the labs alongside other brilliant minds. She was, and still is, an excellent addition to the team. She was the youngest researcher ever admitted, but she collaborated well with her colleagues. So well, in fact, it was the most sociable I had ever seen her be. There was always an equation or a comprehensive question to discuss, and they all bonded through their love of learning."

"All of this sounds too good to be true. I reckon it was."

"Soon you will understand. After about a year of being apart of the team, the thirst for complicated knowledge in Moonlight and her colleagues grew, and projects became very intricate and increasingly prodigious. The workplace in the laboratories became chaotic and muddled through their experiments. Rather than have the researchers cleaning the aftermath of their projects at the end of an exhausting day, I assigned a trusted Castle janitor to maintain their labs, with of course, guided instructions by the Head Researcher in what is allowed to be touched. Though Moonlight was never required to clean up after herself, she did so anyway, even going to the extent to help the janitor tidy up the litter left behind by the other researchers. I attribute her selflessness to the guilt she must have felt watching another pony cleaning the mess she had left behind. Nevertheless, their time spent together cleaning formed... an interesting bond. Though their social status, interests, and pools of acquaintances were vastly different, Moonlight looked past that and developed emotions for this janitor. I do not speak for myself, but most ponies I know would never find a romantic attraction to a lowly janitor."

"It don't surprise me Moonlight sees past concepts like socioeconomic status. 'N what's this guy's name?"

"His name is Crescent Cool. I am unsure of the gritty details to the formation of their interest in one another, but they eventually became a pair. Unbeknownst to everypony at the time, a Scribe in the Royal Research team who you already know, Magnifying Glass, secretly harbored feelings for Moonlight, but because of the current entanglement between her and Crescent, he never advocated his feelings until it was too late."

"Damn. So Glass has been tryin' to scratch his way up Moonlight's tree for nine years?"

Celestia nods firmly, "An unfortunate happening for Scribe Glass, but he has only himself to blame for harboring his emotions. Nevertheless, Crescent proposed a date with Moonlight which solidified their becoming as a couple. From what I was told, Crescent was quite the romantic. In addition to being rather handsome, there was no shortage of sweet words and heartfelt gifts. You could imagine Moonlight was very nervous at the start of the relationship, I don't believe she had ever had a romantic interest before this. As time went on, their relationship showed itself to be a boon for the entirety of the research team. Moonlight's morale grew exponentially, it was higher then than it had ever been. She took many research matters into her own hooves, and everyone followed her lead in countless projects. She became so distinguished in her ability to explain, direct, and compose, she was voted as the next Head Researcher as soon as previous Head Levelpen Clair stepped down to retire. It was a blessing. I've been watching Moonlight since she was a foal and I had never seen her so happy. In her own words, she was at the pinnacle of her life, with a perfect job and an amazing companion to share the experience with. Their relationship was a kiln that hosted a burning passion for life and wonder."

"Sounds like the closin' of a fantasy. ... Where did it all go wrong?"

"... Not long after. The first year was marvelous, but something sinister lingered behind the veil. The main concern Moonlight had about her relationship was her desire for chastity until marriage, which she would have planned as their anniversary for being together two years. She was too committed to her new position as the Head Researcher to have a family during this time. With many responsibilities to juggle, she wanted to find a good time to set aside for their marriage. It was clear Crescent did not want to wait, he always pressed the matter whenever he could."

Crimson's face contorts in mild vexation, riding back on a memory that involved Viola in a very similar scenario. But, he focuses back on Celestia and refrains from interrupting her.

"After his advances being denied numerous times, Crescent was becoming less... affectionate. Even though he verbally acknowledged Moonlight's wishes time after time, he never seemed to truly respect her desires. Keep in mind that Moonlight's position as Head Researcher meant a plethora of new responsibilities, which eventually led to her exhaustion and her inability to stay afterwards to clean the labs, just as she had done when she was a Scribe. We can only assume Crescent must have mistook this as some sort of passive-aggressive attack against him, as he began showing up to work late and would become absent more often, effectively breaking his perfect work record. As I had mentioned before, he was a very trusted custodian picked out of a group. Everypony in that group had done their work around the Castle exceptionally and without complaint, and Crescent in particular got along with many of the Castle staff. It was understandable that Moonlight showed much concern to his random disappearances... and, through her lack of speaking to anypony for an outside perspective, she always blamed herself for things that were going wrong. So, in an attempt to appease to him, Moonlight invited him to the annual Royal Ball, the very same party she had attended every year, the same that Crescent had never been to but to clean up afterwards. She figured it a perfect opportunity for some time to recollect each other's emotions. He gladly accepted, and they attended the Ball together."

"And I reckon it was disaster."

Celestia shakes her head, "To even my surprise, only contentment came from their attendance to the Ball. Though Moonlight did not participate in any festivities, they seemed happy sitting together, talking endlessly, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. Crescent even became the center of attention during one of the dancing circles through out the night. Include this with Moonlight's reluctance to speak ill of anypony, I believed nothing was out of the ordinary between them, that there were no signs of malcontent in their relationship. What happened after this Royal Ball is where the truth began to show its shadowed face. Crescent became rambunctious, his desire to copulate with Moonlight and establish a family was inflamed. His increasing turbulence led to... abusive tendencies," Celestia's expression hardens at the experiences she is recalling, finding present disconcert over memories she willingly files away. "It was too soon before his verbal threats became physical maltreatment of our little Moonlight."

Crimson's hands reflexively close into strained fists. The realization that this was a past event doesn't escape him, but it does little to ease his rising frustration.

"The worst part about the abuse she suffered was her submissive nature. Not only was she the receiving end of bruising treatment and harsh language, her socially fragile being made her truly believe his belittling words. She was always under the impression that she was doing something wrong, that she was at fault for the discontent found in Crescent. ... So then, one and a half years into their relationship, Moonlight herself was beginning to change. It was first noted by her fellow researchers before it reached my knowledge, but she severely waned in her productivity during her work hours. Her mental disconnection to her surroundings was troublesome. She would frequently be found star-gazing and motionless, letting time pass her idly by. She would clean her station and leave her lab earlier than before, then show up the next morning late. Nopony knew why Moonlight was acting this way, there were no evident clues to her dismay. Her relationship was the last thing in anypony's mind, as we were all under the impression that her relationship was still as grand as it was when it first began. She never spoke up about it, and to this day, I believe she would have never done so... which would have resulted in future abuse and a tragic marriage. Had it not been for a terrible mistake on Crescent's end, our little Moonlight would have been involved in a ghastly marriage."

"What'd he do," Crimson asks as a question, but the rigid inflection in his voice comes off as speaking a statement.

Celestia's eyes beam half-lidded into the void as her mind envisages the memory, "... It was one of the most heart-shattering plights I can remember. It was a typical day in the research labs. The team was working on a project, with Moonlight spear-heading the operation. Her growing tendency to arrive late by a few minutes was already worrisome to the researchers, but today, she was astoundingly tardy. She was an entire hour late. The team would have assumed she was sick and needed a day to rest, but as standard protocol dictates, Moonlight would have left a letter to the team if she was going to be absent. All were perplexed to find her not only arrive late, but appear in such a horribly torn state. Her face was reddened and she was wearing her old Scribe cloak, along with a change in mane-style, where sharp locks of her hair hid her beautiful face. Unlike the cloak and cape for the Head Researcher uniform, the Scribe cloak covers the entire body. The terrible truth hid behind her conservative appearance. Since she was a filly, Moonlight always kept her mane held in a tail with a band, and it gave her such an air of youth and innocent wonder. That day, her presence completely discarded the Moonlight we all knew, and no longer could she be left unchecked. Everything stopped, all projects came to a halt, and she was thoroughly questioned by her peers. She gave countless excuses; she was bedraggled from loss of sleep trying to figure out 'x' formula, her face was red and puffy from having bumped her nose on a door, and that she forgot to wash her Head Researcher uniform. They were the same deflections she has been giving since her emotional descent... it was always obvious that she was covering for something... or somepony. Even when the evidence was clearly present, it took copious amounts of coaxing by her peers to get her to come forth, and still, she was too emotionally distraught to speak to anypony except me. ... I still remember that day, when I was called away from a diplomatic meeting to have my presence made at her room in private. ... I recall removing my slipper to lift Moonlight's mane out of her face... and it showed to me a blood-shot eye and a bruised socket where a certain stallion's hoof had landed. Her cheek and temple was bruised and swollen... then, upon removing her cloak, her entire body followed the same soul-wrenching abuse that patterned over her face. Exposed and afraid, Moonlight finally revealed everything to me. The verbal assaults, the physical batterings, and to my shock, the stealing and spending of her money. She had entrusted him with the details to her depository for reasons even I do not know, and he abused that trust. The worst part of her revelation was that she spoke to me as if it was all her fault, as if none of this somehow fell burden to the stallion committing these atrocities. Every hit she took from him, she always believed she deserved it, even going out of her way to hide it for his sake. She truly loved him, but clearly it was misplaced."

"Clearly."

"Nevertheless, following her explanation, we discretely scoured the Castle in search of Crescent to bring his actions to light... and we found him. Yes, we found him in his assigned room. With a parade of guards at out backs, Moonlight and I caught him in the middle of having an affair with a mare he had met during the Royal Ball, which did well to explain why his absences and tardiness soared so dramatically."

"... Fucker."

"Indeed. As it had turned out, Moonlight inviting him to the Royal Ball was a blessing in disguise. His social status leaped through the roof when other elites made his acquaintance there. Combine his charming, seducing mannerisms with innumerable lies that told everypony he was a single, unmarried stallion in the human business, he found a home in the hearts of the high society. His frequent disappearances and disregard for his work as a janitor came from his new-found respect. He never needed any money to impress others, no, he found use of others spending their money for him... and as you can assume, he used Moonlight's bits when the occasion arose. During questioning, we found out directly from him that he grew impatient with Moonlight. Apparently he was sick of working as a janitor. If he had married and had children with Moonlight, he would have legally secured a position in the high society sooner, and other opportunities for high-profile flings could be acquired... which, indeed, was his goal all along. All he ever wanted was his name to be recognized and known. One big ploy to climb the social latter at Moonlight's expense. He would have succeeded, but fortunately for us, his violent tendencies knew no bounds, and it was the downfall of his masquerade. The high of riding his new-found status led him to become less frugal with abusing Moonlight, and it was his demise. Though, to his meager credit, he managed to keep one promise out of the countless many he broke... Moonlight was allowed to keep her chastity."

"Ch. Well that's just hunky-dory. All's forgiven." His sarcastic tone comes accompanied by his visible agitation. "... 'N where's this shithead now?"

Celestia shifts her gaze to look Crimson in the eyes. She can see the fire burning inside of him, the one that calls for vengeance. It's enough to make her smile in satisfaction to his unadulterated conviction for justice, but she shakes her head to him, "Worry not, my angel. After this incident was found and reported, he was swiftly imprisoned in the Canterlot Dungeon for six years. After he was released, a retraining order was placed, and he was promptly banned from staying and entering Canterlot. His current whereabouts are lost and forgotten, just as he is."

Celestia notes the displeasure on Crimson's face. He understands the futility of attempting to exact any form of revenge on Moonlight's perpetrator, but it doesn't stop him from sitting in contempt.

"... Crimson," Celestia hums to him, reattaining his attention.

"... Yeah. Sorry, princess. Just... Moonlight didn't deserve a second of what she got."

"It is upsetting. She is the last pony I would subject to tragedy, but there are many innocent lives that suffer from injustice. That is why we should always keep our chins raised and our arms open, for there are many who need comfort and strength, and they seek those who are comforting and strong."

"Hmn. Like you."

"... I had 'someone' else in mind, but I appreciate your kind words."

"They're not just kind words. I mean them."

"I know you do, and I do my best to provide leadership and counseling to my subjects... but as you have already know, I am not immune to the toils of life. I sometimes fail to decide rationally or diligently due to self-doubt or hesitation."

"Everyone screws up now 'n then. Doesn't mean you're no better at bein' a role-model, as long as what's in yer heart stays true. You only started wearin' your crown not too long ago right? Give yourself some slack."

"You must understand that minor errors aren't as minor when you are responsible for leading a country. My sister and I have only held our crowns for twenty years, and in that time, there has been much to attend to... and many opportunities for failure."

"Twenty? ... Twenty years?"

"Twenty years, yes."

"I thought you became princess recently. Twenty years ain't no 'recent' to me."

"It is to me."

"... No disrespect, princess, but just how old are you?"

"Oho," Celestia blinks lubriciously and chuckles, "What a thing to ask a mare~"

"Honest question."

"... I'll say only this: older than you might think."

Crimson smirks to her sly answer. "Fair game. I'll get a real answer outta you one day."

"I eagerly await for that day then."

"... You said you've been dealin' with a lot. I'm curious about the shit you gotta hassle through as the princess of Equestria. -- Oh, uh, right... my manners. Forgot to ask early 'cuz I was kinda upset, but... you don't mind swearin', do you?"

"I believe we're both grown adults."

"Right. Just checkin'."

"... Hmn, where to begin. I suppose my main priority has been increasing the quality of living conditions through out the land. You see, Equestria was... not in the greatest state before our coronation. Thirty-two years ago, a continental war across all of Equus drove death and famine into not only ponykind, but every other kingdom... for nearly a decade. Changelings, dragons, yaks, buffalo, camels, zebras, hippogryphs, seaponies, and a plethora of other races that were caught in the middle of the crossfire. ... It was a catastrophe that, I hope, never shall repeat itself again. Under the care of my sister and I, we have had great success in re-establishing the major cities and expanding past them, but the lack of mobility and security is my greatest concern. Many of my ponies are unprotected and subject to attacks. ... You witnessed the destruction of a village first-hoof."

"And I'd kill that bastard again if I could."

Celestia exhales through her nose, smiling in amusement. "I do hope your reassignment proves to quell future attacks. ... Crimson." He raises his eyebrows, reaffirming to her that she has his attention. "Your gift is something to treasure. With the might to slay a dragon, but the tenderness to comfort an aching heart, I couldn't be more thrilled to have you as one of my subjects. You are exactly what Equestria needed right now. I do not know what divine force bestowed this blessing upon us, but I am happy it did. ... Could I bother you with a difficult question?"

"'Course you can, princess."

"... I mean no offense, I am only curious. Why do you choose to stay in Equestria? Moonlight informed me that you would rather stay here and aid us in the face of our current threat, rather than find a way to return to your homeworld. Why is this?"

"... Just... feels like the right thing to do, I suppose. It ain't everyday that you get suddenly yanked away from one world to another, not including the fact that that's even possible. Whatever force reckoned I should be added to this place probably knew what it was doin'. Like you said, I'm just what y'all needed at this very specific point in time. Everyone I've met, all the directions I've turned, it's all led me to you right here, right now, havin' this conversation. If I'd choose to leave, it would be more than selfish, it would be down-right desertion. Everythin's lined up fer me this far, it's all the motivation I need to keep me here. ... Besides, the only important person in my life isn't too far from me anyway, there wasn't anythin' particularly important I left by being sent here."

Celestia's satisfaction to his earnest being is contained in the glee present in her face. Her pink irises glint with the lifting of her spirit, finding solace in watching him as he sits there, right in front of her on the carpet. She mindlessly gazes at his human figure, the scratches on his face and body, the dark circles under his eyes, the mild scraggling of his hair... they all stand as pillars to his unbreakable fortitude. With one more thing to ask him, Celestia speaks again, "... What was your life like before your arrival to Equestria?"

"Ah. It's a long story. None of it really bridges between here and there, but, uh... guess we can start with my pa--"

Without warning, the doors to the throne room come open, revealing two guard stallions in golden armor standing at its wake. One of them vocalizes, "Princess Celestia, your presence is requested at the Consortium Congregation."

Crimson and Celestia turn their glances from the interrupting stallions to each other, with Crimson chuckling, "Looks like it's a story fer another time."

"I apologize for asking the question at such a bad time, I should have realized my duties would call me away."

"Nah, nah, no trouble at all. Next time."

"Mm. Next time," Celestia repeats. "... I will hold you to your word."

Crimson rises to his feet from the ground as Celestia stands from her throne. They walk alongside each other down the stairs and out of the throne room, parting ways as Crimson makes his way towards the East Tower.

"... Nope. Terrible. Let's fix that too. ... And that. ... What was I thinking setting those capacitors like that? That won't do at all..."

Moonlight murmurs to herself as she studies her original ANA blueprint. She scrutinizes her own scheme harshly, mentally scolding herself at every turn for menial imperfections in its design. Be it the needlessly bulky shape of the chassis or clunky setting of the internal parts, she now scribbles into a more modern gridded paper as she maps out a newer, fleshed out design that uses her old one as a base.

Her focus remains undisturbed until the sound of doors opening hijacks her attention. She comes to a sudden halt, her eyes dart to the front of the room like a deer caught in headlights. She catches Crimson peeking his head from the opened door, looking in inquisitively. Once the two make eye contact, he steps fully into view and smiles. Moonlight's tense shoulders loosen once she sees it's only him. She adjusts her glasses and smiles back, "How did it go with Celestia?"

"I'd say went well," he says as he approaches Moonlight and stands at her side. He scans the lab table she sits next to, seeing a plethora of papers, inkwells, and used plumes scattered about.

"She told you about your reassignment?"

"Yeah. Kinda bogus. I was hopin' we would be able to do more field ops together."

Moonlight averts her gaze and smiles slightly wider at his desire.

"But, like Celestia said, you'll be much safer here in Canterlot. Can't complain about that."

"I'll be safe, but that doesn't mean you will. The Elite Guard are not known for going on walks in the garden, there's always something trying to harm them. ... Crimson, promise me you'll be very careful while working with them."

"There ain't no reason to fret, Moonlight," he reaches his hand to adjust the lop-sided collar on her Scribe cloak, "I'll be just fine. Sure I might take a few hits here 'n there, but I'm pretty good at that."

"Good at almost dying? That's not something to be proud of..."

"Almost dyin' ain't actually dyin' though, so I'd say it is," he smirks.

Filled with melancholy, her eyes move with her head to look up at him. "... It's smiles and giggles now, but I'll never forgive you if I have to attend your funeral one of these days..."

Crimson's grin falls awry at the sight of her somber bearing, but only for a moment. He opens his arms to motion a hug... but to his offer, she doesn't immediately accept. His arms slowly fall back down to his sides as his brows furrow with fret.

"... Promise me," she firmly demands. "Promise me you'll keep yourself safe."

Though her expression is serious and her adorable voice coming out as stern as it can possibly be, Crimson can't help but smile again. "I promise you, Moonlight. I promise that I'll make it back from every rodeo, and the first thing I'll do is visit you. That sound good?"

Moonlight stays quiet for a moment, staring up at him with the same fixed expression... then, she reaches forward and latches onto him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Crimson steps closer and couples up next to her, embracing the hug they now share.

"... You better not break your promises."

"Never have. Never will."

They come apart after Moonlight softens her hold. She sits straight on her stool again and plants her eyes down at the papers on the lab table. She stares at all of the complicated schematics and numbers in the papers, but she doesn't focus on them. "Are you going to go see Storm soon?"

"Gotta. Gonna try my best to get that relic outta her hands and into ours. Or whatever respective appendage you hold."

"Hopefully her demands aren't too high, the last thing we need is for her to want something out of our reach. Which is very few things, but the simpler the request, the better."

"'N you? What'll keep you busy today?"

"I was going to finish developing my plants for the mark-two variation of the original ANA. I have most of the plans mapped out already... I think. Unfortunately, I'm lacking a few components I'll need to build it..."

"A few?"

"A lot..."

"Damn. Can't believe them royal labs'r whatever don't got the stuff you need."

"Oh... no... no, they... probably do. I, just, um... I was referring to the resources in my room..."

"Ah. No problem then. Just head on down to the labs fer the stuff you'll need."

"..."

"... Moonlight, you're gonna have to show up there eventually. You can't hide in yer room forever."

Moonlight releases a brooding sigh, nodding her head in understanding, "I know, it's just... t-they... they might be angry at me."

"Fer what?"

"... For being gone several years. We haven't been able to do many experiments or studies with me being so far away... I effectively halted our progress when I moved away."

"Not even close, Moonlight. Them researchers in the labs, they were pretty ripe with the idea of you bein' back. They weren't mad in the slightest... especially that Magnifying Glass fella."

Moonlight scrunches her muzzle and turns her gaze firmly away at the mentioning of his name.

"'N I heard he's been waitin' to bark up yer tree for years now."

"W-Who told you that?" She snaps her eyes back to him.

"Celestia, f'course."

"What else did she tell you?"

"Just that Magnifying Glass was one of the original team members before you became the Head Researcher. Seemed like a good guy. ... Are you a little scared to meet him again? Is that why yer beatin' around the bush so much?"

"N-No! W-Well... it's, um... it's..."

Crimson turns his head slightly to mire her with his right eye.

"... It's just that, it's been so long since I found out he liked me... and I told him that I liked him. I never told him up-front, all of our conversations happened through the letters we shared. Even after I stopped writing everypony letters, he still wrote to me. I'm bewildered that anypony would feel this way about me for so long. I'm not..." her voice quickly drops in volume, mumbling a whisper, "... really anything special."

"... Magnifying Glass 'n I would highly disagree with that, Moonlight. There's so many good qualities about you, I'd lose my voice tryin'a say 'em all. Yer house back in Baltimare? A work of art, all done by your love and care. These crazy contraptions? Built by you and only you. To top off your unrivaled intelligence, you're one of the sweetest people, or eh, ponies, I've ever met. They don't make 'em like you, Moonlight, not where I come from at least. Now c'mon, better to get things done now then later. Go meet back up with them researchers of yers. Try to kindle somethin' that should'a been a long time ago."

Crimson moves a thick lock of Moonlight's mane out of her face, shifting it to the side to reveal her left eye better. He stares at her beautifully clean form, her gleaming eyes, the silky coat that entails her pearly face with complete lack of blemish or imperfection.

...

Like if reality flashed a snapshot, Crimson's imagination unwillingly envisions this innocent mare beaten. Bruised. Bleeding. The left corner of her lip is swollen and her eye is a presentation of misery. Crimson's shoulders slowly raise, along with a fire of anguish and vengeance--

"I-Is there something on my face?" she breaks him out of his daydreaming with her sudden trepidation.

"... N... No. Nothin' on yer face, Moonlight. Clean and adorable, as it always is."

Moonlight's cheek are quick to heat up with the tossed compliment.

"... I'll be back soon 'n visit you at the labs," Crimson makes his way towards the doors as he speaks, "hopefully with the relic." He opens the door he came through and steps out, glancing back at the silent mare before he closes it, if only to make sure she doesn't require anything before he steps out. She only gazes at him timidly without uttering a word. He takes this as his cue to march away.

...

"... Wait! Crimson!" Moonlight blurts suddenly. "Scribe Swirl wanted this!" Her horn is encased in her blue aura as she levitates her mini-ANA from the table into the air in front of her. "... I forgot to ask you to take this to the labs," she mumbles in vain, knowing she won't be heard. She doesn't receive any response and her door stays closed, remaining in the silence of her echoing room. Her ears flop to her head, realizing now that she not only has no excuse, but a reason to return to the labs. "... Hooh."

"... Wait! Crimson!" Moonlight blurts suddenly.

Reacting instantly to the sound of her voice, Crimson halts and rushes back towards the doors to her room. He opens them and peers in, calling out in reply, "What's wrong, Moon-- ... light?"

His expression notches with puzzlement upon glancing towards the lab table Moonlight was sitting on seconds ago. She is absent, along with every paper and flask she had scattered at its top. Everything is untouched and idly organized. He shifts his analyzing eyes around the room, and he begins to realize that the ambiance around him is illustrated with an uncanny lack of hue. While color is still present, everything is significantly faded in its saturation, giving the world a halted, dreamy look. Accompanying this eerie distortion of the world, distant sounds coming from intangible sources ring quietly; sounds of wind chimes, gently rustling leaves, and calm wind come as ghosts.

"... Moonlight?" he calls again, turning his head left and right with uncertainty. He steps into the room further, letting go of the door and standing up straight.

The door comes to a slamming shut behind him, loud enough to bring a wince to his face. He turns his head to the door that violently closed itself, seeing now that the handles have disappeared. He turns himself around to face the doors completely, making sure that what he is seeing is actually happening. He reaches forward and presses his hand on the cobalt plate of the door that once held the handles. He feels as if he is touching a wall, the door does not give at all to his push.

"... What the hell is goin' on?" he mumbles to himself as he turns around, looking back towards the room again. With a strong gust of wind blown from the ether to ruffle his hair, his eyes grow wide when he sees a figure sitting at the lab table, exactly where Moonlight was sitting before. A shadowy figure with unclear features sits on the stool, wearing a black and blue hood that sheens. Judging from their general size and shape, he assumes it to be a pony, or some other non-human figure. Staring at this entity muddles his conscious, it appears as if this being is constantly shifting and blurring. Their form remains still, yet moves without actually moving.

Their presence is inadvertently causing Crimson discomfort. The very sight of this being is driving emotions into him that can only be described as... fear. Humility. A weight that tells him he's worthless under their gaze, calling for his immediate surrender and humbleness, like a tyrant towering over their servant.

He actively combats this internal turmoil, finding it a difficult battle to fight while trying to speak his mind. He stares at this enigmatic presence in silence, scattering through his perplexity in an attempt to vocalize.

Before he has the chance to, the figure commences first, "Greetings... Arch Angel." Their voice -- the resounding tone of a feminine timbre... her voice, it resonates just as her blurring appearance does, echoing several times over itself as if multiple beings were speaking at once.

Crimson squints at her as he attempts to piece together as much sense as possible.

"There is no need to speak, Arch Angel. You must only listen. And listen well, for my words will serve to guide you through the mist of life."

"N... Wait, no," Crimson finally speaks, "wait a damn minute. What's goin' on here? Who in the hell're you? Moonlight was just..."

"Fret not. She is safe. You are not in Canterlot. You are currently elsewhere, despite what your surroundings appear to be."

"... Where'm I?"

"Do not worry about where you are... it is neither here, nor there."

Crimson's body now begins to rise in temperature, fighting furiously at odds with the cloaked figure's powerful presence. He can not remember the last time he has felt these emotions last, the ones that grip at his throat and weaken his knees. Though difficult, he fortifies his heart and mind enough to reply, yet unwillingly, his words come meek, "Tell me who you are. I ain't well on shadows and curtains."

"Me?" she repeats in a rather entertained air. "Oh, yes. The first question of many you possess. Indeed, it is why I am here with you, Arch Angel. To answer said questions. You wish to know who I am, correct?"

Crimson nods twice.

"You may call me Fate. Consider me to be your... spiritual advisor. The gift you harbor, Arch, comes with many intricacies I am sure you do not understand. I am here to aid you with those intricacies."

Crimson's demeanor slowly begins to simmer, aiding him in his tussle with her radiating presence. While irritation is an emotion he tries to suppress, he lets it collect for the sake of remaining firm. "... Help me with my gift, huh? Ain't that somethin'. The Arch guidance councilor I always needed comes to my aid, 'n I only had to wait twenty-nine fuckin' years. Quite a few years too late fer the rest of my family."

"Do not mistake me as something I am not. No, Arch Angel, I am not the guidance councilor... I choose to be your guidance councilor. Understand that I am not compelled to assist you or anyone else. I appear unto you because of certain... circumstances, that apply only to you. For you see, I know more about you than you may know about yourself."

"Yeah, right." Crimson shakes his head, "Nah. I'm dreamin'. This is another one of them dreams I have."

"I advise you to stay on course, Arch Angel. What you see before you is no delusion."

"And how do I know you ain't?"

"Determine that for yourself once our exchange is complete."

Crimson mulls over her firm air. Thinking critically, this would be one of the most coherent 'dreams' he has had, if assuming he actually is dreaming. It almost feels like one, but he decides to keep his reservations. "... I'll give you doubt's benefit."

"It is all I ask."

"Let's say you ain't bullshittin' me and all this is real. You said you know more about me than I know about myself. You omniscient 'r somethin'?"

"Omniscient?" Crimson swears he hears a chuckle emit from her echoing, dissonant voice. "That would make things infinitely easier if I was omniscient. No, I do not know everything... but I do know very much. All my knowledge comes through observation."

"'Observation', huh? ... So what do you know about me?"

"Mmh. I suppose this will serve as our first topic," Fate declares. "Well then. Let us begin... with you."

"Mmkay. Is there, uh... anythin' I should say, or...?"

Her form distorts in a very unclear manner, yet Crimson's senses pick up that she shook her head. "All you must do is listen, or beg a question if something is amiss."

"... Alright."

"As you know, you are an Arch Angel. You are a being capable of harnessing not only the physical world around you, but the planes beyond it. You are a being of light and power, and you use this power to maintain the balance in worlds troubled by chaos."

"I 'maintain the balance' of the world? Sounds a little above my pay-grade, don't it?"

"Not in the slightest. You single-handedly restored order to an entire state, did you not?"

Crimson's brows raise. He trails back to reflect on what he has done. As it turns out... she is right. Through only his hard-headed tenacity, he had scuffed out the gang that once held a powerful vice-grip in his home-state.

"Imagine what you could have accomplished with the aid of your fellow man. That is not to demean the role played by your sister, no. She was important in her duties, to keep you composed and sane. Were it not for her, you would have been lost long ago."

"Duties? The hell is that supposed to mean? ... She ain't some sorta pawn. She's my sister." His uncertainty emerges again. It's starting to dawn on him that maybe this isn't a dream, implying this being, Fate, does exist outside of his mind somehow. Her very existence and everything she knows about him is causing gaps in his assurance.

"But of course, Arch Angel. The life you have lived is all yours, the life your sister lived is all hers. I do not interfere with the lives of others... usually."

Crimson's expression hardens. He refrains from speaking his accusative thoughts, ensuring himself that she'll have some sort of worthwhile explanation.

"The life you have lived is, indeed, all your own. But, I am the reason you are here in Equestria. I am the reason why you were pulled from your home. It was no easy task, and I have done so on a very definitive basis. You see, an new evil presents itself in my homeland, the one I inhabited many centuries ago. Due to certain... grounds, I am unable to aid it as I have done in the past. You, Arch Angel, can. You have completed your mission in your homeland, they no longer require your protection. Mine does. It is not due to my selfishness that I distance you from your world, but because of your own willingness to give. You possess many features entailed in a hero, and I knew you would be up to this task. I could have selected countless other Arch Angels to pursue this mission... but none of them have quite displayed a disposition as eloquent as yours."

"... So my world got turned upside-down because of you, huh?"

"Yes."

"The life I was supposed to live with my sister, the peace 'n quiet that I earned, gone. Because of you."

"If that is how you wish to view your current situation. But I know I made the right choice. I know that you, Arch Angel, will take this new opportunity to do further good, as you have always done in the past."

Crimson briefly turns her words inside himself. His stern front fades for muse, meditating everything he has experienced so far. She's right about everything she has assumed about him. He can't find it in himself to be terribly upset about being pulled away from Earth, especially not when he thinks about those he has met. He did want a life of peace, and he did want to settle down... but the more he thinks about it, he couldn't envisage sitting around and farming all day. It was an occupation he enjoyed doing, but... was that really going to be the rest of his life, especially considering what he truly is? The only thing that really mattered to him was Viola's safety, and now she has it. While he would love to be with her again, he can already interact with her in the Rift as if she was next to him. There truly is nothing for him left back at Earth that really calls for his immediate return, and he is further pressed to stay now that Equestria faces unknown danger.

"Understand that many who have suffered as you have do not compose themselves to your extent. You have more than enough reason to be bitter, loathing, and distant from the world, but instead, you choose to move forward, and see the good in everything that is, and that will be. Had I tasked any other angel with this, and pull them away from their own world, it would likely end in self-inflicted tragedy. You are special, Arch Angel. This is why you have been chosen."

"... How have you been watchin' me?"

"By observing you through your Arch. All Arch Angels are capable of sensing the essence of one another, far beyond space and time. It is a tether that has existed since the dawn of our kind. This tether keeps us all indirectly united through a phenomena named The Highway, where our souls collect."

"Yer sayin' I have this 'tether' too?"

"Yes. An example of this tether would be your sister. You feel very curious when you are around her, no?"

"... Yeah. It's a real weird feelin'... like, I'm able to feel her, hear her, without actually... bein' around her. I always thought it was just because I knew her so well, figured it was normal in other folks."

"Not at all. That is the work of the tether."

"... But if this is the case, why can't I feel you? Why can't I feel all the countless other angels you've been referrin' to?"

"That is a matter of the individual. Other than certain... 'personal' properties that affect your tether, such as intimacy with your sister for instance, only those honed and potent in their gift can reach beyond themselves, extend their gaze past the physical world, towards the realm of intangibility and the soul. I am one such being. I have been able to watch you after your connection with your Arch, see upon your meandering soul as it progresses through the toils of life."

"Does that mean I gotta actually 'use' my Arch for others to 'watch' me?"

"A very crude description, but yes. This also implies there are other angels around who are able to reach your soul."

"So if I don't use it, others can't see me."

"Mmn, correct... to an extent. An Arch Angel, while possessing Arch itself, will only be as potent with it as they choose to be. It is like a muscle, a muscle which must be trained constantly for progress to be made. A muscle that is not trained withers away. Think of this muscle as a beacon. If the beacon is weak, and eventually fades, then it will become unreadable. An angel's Arch can wane so severely, they lose all connection with The Highway, and eventually, their Arch itself. This is a rare occurrence, it happens to very few."

"... I can't even remember when I've connected with my Arch. It must have been so long ago."

"It was, and I shall remind you. When you and your sister were young, both at the age of nine, you were fetching pales of water near a spring close to the home of your grandparents. You defended your sister against two grown men who ambushed you. They sought to kidnap your sister, they wanted to perform atrocious acts upon her, but you did not allow it. The emotion and anger inside you became so potent, your Arch autonomously awakened itself in response to your will. Yes, you carried your sister in your arms as you walked away from the river, leaving the two grown men to stain the soil with blood."

His memory returns vividly. He remembers every detail of that day, the surge of adrenaline and heightened sense of awareness... and the horrified faces of the men who became the first of many to die at his hand. A child his age couldn't know that he would become a conduit of golden light possessing the capability to readily smite another man, until it had already happened.

"Of course, your parents hid this gift from you for your entire life, up until that point. Once the truth was revealed, they had no choice but to come forth. Your parents are to blame for the severe hamper in the growth of your Arch. Instead of nurturing your gift from your youth, they stowed it away, as if it were a plague placed upon their lineage. Despite such a late connection with your gift, you've managed to grow wonderfully. I could only imagine how powerful you could have been if you were properly nursled."

Crimson's eyes fall to the marble ground of Moonlight's room. His father was keen on keeping his gift suppressed, in the belief that the curse which afflicted them, their Arch, would somehow eventually fade away. Had things gone his way, he would have succeeded. A semblance of normal life could be reattained if they were freed from their bindings. But, life is never that predictable. Given Crimson's circumstances, he instead harnessed his 'curse' to trudge through life's challenges, proving to be triumphant.

"But that is in the past. It is not wise to linger on it. We must focus on the present and all that comes after. Let us look now to your Arch as it stands, and which strengths you possess from your lineage."

"... Strengths?"

Her phantasmal form signals a nod. "Every Arch Angel comes with a set of strengths, depending on the genes given to them by their forefathers. Let us start at the top of the latter and climb down, it will broaden your understanding this way. There are two attunements in your Arch, Body and Soul. Do not think of this in black and white, but instead in a spectrum where infinite shades of grey exist. You are born somewhere in this spectrum, where your talents lean towards either or. It is most common for an angel to possess more of one attunement than the other, but both will always congeal in your being. Think of it as a fraction, where angels typically contain three-fourths of one attunement and one-fourth of the other, or some other fraction of similar nature. Do you understand?"

"So far, yeah."

"Good. Now, it is very rare for an angel to find themselves in the far ends of this spectrum, and even rarer to be found directly in the center. You, Arch Angel, are of true rarity. Your Arch stands almost perfectly in the center, with only a slight lean towards Soul. Truly remarkable."

"How're you able to see that?"

"The same way I see everything about you."

"... So what does any of that actually mean fer me?"

"It means you are capable of mastering both traits with little effort. Those attuned with Body are generally large, physically powerful beings who handle the tangible world. Those attuned in Soul do not appear very different from their fellow kin, but do house nuanced features that can be used to distinguish them. Angels of Soul are skilled at reading and manipulating others, running through the mind and spirit, and handling metaphysical threats. You, Arch Angel, have a physical body which serves as a powerful catalyst to your will, and, you also possess the skills to reach beyond the physical realm, capable of moving the world from its very essence. Strength and will perfectly intertwined with mental prowess and cunning of the soul. Many would be jealous."

"Guess I can understand why. I reckon you chose me fer this Equestria expedition because I'm 'special.'"

"Even if you were the most perfect embodiment of Arch imaginable, I would not have chosen you because of it. As I stated earlier, I chose you for your selfless nature."

Crimson crosses his arms and looks down at himself.

"Now then, moving forward from the spectrum that is Body and Soul, we now look at the classes that narrow down an angel's talents. There are four main classes which break up into infinite subsets, but we will focus only on the classes. Two of these classes belong to Body, the other two, Soul. Body harbors the classes Vanguard and Tower. Appropriately, the angels of large, robust build who stand as walls of will are of the Tower. Their body is not easily toppled, and their mind even less so. Angels of strength and speed, those who are customarily at the front of a battle, those who brunt the first of an onslaught, are apart of the Vanguard. Though they do not harness the raw power of the Tower, the Vanguard specializes in both strength and tenacity, capable of suffering immense physical trauma for those they protect. ... Does this sound familiar?"

"... Sounds familiar alright."

"Then, let us proceed to the classes of Soul. The first class, and the most common for the Soul attunement, is the String Singer. They are the angel that is beloved among many. They are attractive, well-spoken, and are very pleasant to be around. They radiate a natural charisma that endears the hearts of those who make their presence. They raise morale and stand as beacons of hope in the gloom. If not immediately apparent, this is your second specialization, and... your sister's only specialization."

"It would explain why she was always a popular girl... but she never did like all the attention she got."

"It is uncommon for a String Singer to be as socially recluse as she is, but not impossible. Just as it is greatly uncommon for an angel to possess more than one specialization, here you are. You and your sister are very... unique. A pair perfect for each other's strengths and weaknesses."

"... Yeah."

"Lastly, and possibly the most difficult class to master, is the Soul's Weave Watcher. Those found in this class specialize in all things metaphysical. They are the ones who can read the actions of others, tap into their conscious, and establish a spiritual connection with anything and everything. They are the ones who remain in the back-line of the stage, viewing the performance from a different perspective, and silently bending the actors to their will."

"And I reckon that's what you are, considerin' you perfectly described yerself."

"Correct. I am a Weave Watcher, the class of Arch Angel who specializes in being everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time."

"Are all you Watcher angels displacin' people?"

"No. It takes an angel perfected in their craft to do as I can. I have yet to meet another."

"Quite a compliment you gave yerself."

"I only speak the truth, primal concepts such as personal pride mean nothing to me. Now, this covers the fundamentals of Arch and its reach. Do you have any questions thus far?"

"Yeah. Earlier you were sayin' you picked me outta 'countless others.' Just to be sure, there are many more like me out there?"

"Like us, Arch Angel. Like us. Yes, there are."

"How come I've never seen any of 'em?"

"They are far, far away. So far away, you will most likely never meet any of them."

"... Hmn," Crimson puts his hands in his pockets. "... Guess that wraps up the basics then."

"Indeed. Do keep in mind that these fundamentals are broad-reaching, they elaborate on all aspects of Arch as simply as possible. The true nature of Arch is unpredictable and complex, just as every angel that uses it. Like anything in life, things are subject to reach past any established boundaries."

"So, wait... I, uh, actually got another question."

"And I may have an answer."

"My dad... and my brother. They had Arch too."

"Of course."

"... I don't think it was the same as mine 'n Viola's."

"An astute observation. No, it was not the same. Your brother and your father both belonged to the Tower."

"That was my guess. They were beefy fuckin' guys."

"As all Tower are. It is quite enigmatic that both you and your sister are not of the same class and attunement."

"Do the kids of an angel usually inherit their class?"

"Yes. And not only that, but as normality dictates, only the first-born child of an angel inherits their Arch. Any children born after do not."

"... How does that work?"

"It is like questioning why a plant absorbs sunlight through its leaves. It is simply how nature proceeds. You, however, have managed to bypass several extremely rare exceptions to be the man you are right now. And even with the stunting of your Arch's growth, you have done well to take advantage of your rarity."

"Can't take all the glory. Everythin' I learned was from my dad and Vigil."

"They taught you incorrectly. The ways of their teaching were based solely in their interpretation of their own Arch. You are not like them, you had to have been taught in a manner that accommodates to your class. This is why the children of an angel are always born in the same class as the parent, so that the teaching may be properly passed on."

"... But wrong teachin' is better than no teachin'."

"In this instance, you are correct. Even if their teachings were misguided, the discipline required to harness Arch has been achieved. Though, this is why you struggle with your gift. You harness it in a way that is unnatural for your being. While not impossible to wield Arch in a manner other angels do, it is needlessly more difficult. You must adapt it to your own needs, and find what works best for you."

"And how'm I supposed to do that?"

"It is simple. You must only spend time with your Arch. Channel it, let it run through your body in an awakened state. Let your mind and body bend according to what it desires."

"Kinda cryptic, miss Fate."

"To give a familiar visualization, imagine lifting a rock. A very heavy rock. There are many ways to lift this rock, but an equal number of ways are needlessly difficult. You can attempt to lean over the rock and lift it up with your lower back. A very difficult, painful thing to do. Alternatively, your body can find a better-suited manner of lifting the same rock, by squatting down and keeping it close to your bosom. It is the same concept for your Arch, harness it in a way that is most natural for you."

"... Yeah. Yeah, I can see that," a small smile grows on his face as his mind connects missing pieces that have remain unplugged for many years. "That's real good advice, miss Fate. I appreciate it."

"Please, only Fate. There is no need for such formalities. Now, I am certain there are places you need to be. This is where I will let you go."

"Righty'o. ... Oh, uh... if I ever need to talk to you again, how can I do that?"

"Worry not, Arch Angel, I will come unto you when it is most appropriate. Do not focus on me, focus on the tasks that lie ahead of you. Act as if I was never there."

Crimson looks visibly dissatisfied with this answer, but he takes it, trusting in her words.

"I do not believe Equestria has changed in landscape since I was last there. Is there anywhere you must be?"

"Oh, uh," Crimson mentally configures himself for a moment, "Yeah. You don't reckon you could put me down on the top of the Canterlot mountain? I need to meet someone there."

"Meet someone?" she repeats in an echoing huff of amusement. "Yes, I know exactly where you are referring to. I will set you there. ... One last shard of advice, Arch Angel."

"Yeah?"

"While not normally noteworthy, I feel that this information might serve... useful, to you. You, as an Arch Angel, are capable of many things. One of those things is the transfer of your seed into a female's harbor. Be advised that your seed will automatically recompose itself at the molecular level to satisfy the needs of any sentient female's biology."

Crimson's eyes pry open.

"Indeed. Exercise caution, Arch Angel."

"So, no, wait-- I--"

The world around him begins to melt away, becoming a drooping mess of wonky sounds and dripping structure, until nothing but blackness remains. Not a second after, reality around him reconstructs into rock and cloud, the temperature around him immediately drops, and a light mist fogs the air. Crimson looks around himself quickly, taking in that he's standing on a spacious cliff-edge right under the cloud line. He peeks off the cliff, seeing a steep descent down towards the distant grass fields that lie far below. He then turns around, facing towards the mountain. He sees that he's not actually on the peak of the mountain, but a few meters before it. There is an inconspicuous vertical crack on this face of the mountain, possibly leading into a certain dragoness's cave.

"... Well, shiet," he huffs under his breath. With a deep sigh, he walks towards it.

Crimson's breath blows visibly as he walks towards the mouth of the cave. He slides his hands into his pockets and scans the wall of the mountain, analyzing the camouflaged entryway, only visible at a straight-forward angle. The size of the entrance is roughly three times his height, but surrounding rocks and chilled shrubbery block it from blatant view.

He steps into the entrance, greeted by warmth that surrounds him as he escapes the open air. The entrance tunnel appears to swerve left and right, forcing those who enter to swivel in this vestibule-like corridor.

Finally, the tunnel gives way into a large, cavernous expanse known to be Storm's cave. The ceiling reaches high, sloping down like a large dome. Scattered about and hanging from this ceiling are unusual bio-luminescent glowing vines and flowers which grow all throughout to provide a natural, green-blueish light. Several notable features present in this domicile include a long stone table on the left side which sits all sorts of gems, jewels, gold, devices, and trinkets. At the far end, opposite of the entrance, there are three hide-skin flaps that lead into different rooms. Lastly, there is an in-ground pool in the very center where Storm is found relaxing. Her eyes are closed while she rests against the wall of the pool, keeping only her neck and head above the water.

A small smile grows on Crimson's face, filled with ease that he wasn't deceived by this outlandish dragoness. She's here, her belongings are here, and there, laying on the stone table, the necklace he must acquire sits among the other valuables. It would be feasible for him to sneak over and take it. He could run with it and jump off the side of the mountain, using his Arch to fly himself over to Canterlot. She won't be able to follow him there, not if she wants to stay alive. ... But he can't see himself doing any of that, especially since Storm held up her side of the deal. All that's left now is to see what she wants for it, hopefully nothing unreasonable. Maybe he'll leave his run and jump plan in the back-burner, in case this little meeting doesn't go as planned.

He refocuses his attention to Storm, she still sits in the water without a shift in posture. He isn't sure whether she's asleep or not, but he'll soon to find out. He makes his way towards her, his flip-flops clap against the solid floor as he approaches the pool.

The sound of his footwear is enough for the dragoness to open her sleepy sky0 eyes. She turns to the unfamiliar sound, but her placid air remains held as if she was expecting him already. Upon seeing him, she sits up and rests her elbows on the edge of the pool, putting on a snarky smile, "You found me."

"That I did."

She releases a silent but prolonged yawn as he asks, letting her thin, swiveling tongue squirm freely before she shuts her mouth.

"I ain't botherin' you, am I?"

"What time is it?"

"Still some hour in the mornin', I reckon. Sun was still on the East."

"Mm. Good, you picked a good time then. Welcome."

"Much obliged. You've got a nice place."

"Thanks. Years of hard work went into it." Storm tilts her head a little, smiling at Crimson curiously. It drives him to return a questioning glance.

"... What?"

"Heh, guess I'm still not fully used to you yet. A talking human sure is a weird sight."

"Trust me when I say, the opposite is equally true. I ain't had a run-in with a huge talkin' lizard before until yesterday."

Storm shifts her glance between him and the water she rests in. "Feel like taking a dip? Water's warm," she offers as she points down to it.

"Appreciate the hospitality, but I'll decline. So," Crimson sits down on the edge of the pool, fixing his gaze on her firmly, "what do you want fer the necklace?"

"Oh. Nothing but business with you, is it?" she smirks. "That's a let-down. I had expected you to be more fun."

"We can have all the fun we want after Equestria ain't subject to catastrophe. Now c'mon, tell me what you came up with. Money? Food? Another necklace?"

"Mmm..." Storm begins to ponder the exact same way she did back at the destroyed town after Moonlight had tried to give her offers. Crimson comes to realize from her body language that she isn't actually pondering, she's just being difficult. "... Nope. Haven't come up with anything yet."

"Huh. It's almost like I saw that comin'." He sighs and scratches the back of his head, looking down at the gently rippling water that Storm bothers. He leans a bit forward and stares at his own reflection. It's been a while since he has seen himself last at Moonlight's bathroom, surprised at how much can change in the span of a few days. Aside from a growing stubble and darkening circles under his eyes, he looks at the scar on his face left behind by the dragon he slew. He turns his face to give it a better view and brings his fingers to it, running them across its length.

"My brother really fucked up your face," Storm comments breezily.

"Yeah, but that's as far as he got."

"Heh, that's true. Watching you kill him was a treat."

"I bet. I, too, couldn't stand seein' him ransack an innocent town."

"... What? No, not that. I could care less. I'm glad he's dead because he always takes my stuff, saying crap like, 'I am deserving! You do nothing! All you do is take, but never kill!' Like, I'm not an eighteen-foot tall mass of scales, moron. I can't kill things as easily as you can."

"So you would if you could?" Crimson squints at her.

"Uuuh..." she shifts her glance between him and other random objects, "... no?"

Crimson's eyes narrow further.

"Look, Crim, I've never killed any stupid ponies before. Not on purpose at least. No need to get all fired up. It was always my brothers doing the murdering and the burning. I just take things from them."

"Stealin' ain't any better."

"Oh, come on. They were already dead by the time I ran off with their stuff. Dead ponies won't be needing their bits, now will they?"

"The worst part about you is that you're talkin' as if you were seriously in the right."

"I know what my brothers did is twisted in your eyes, but what was I gonna do? Stop them? Not only do I not care enough to try, but even if I did, they'd kill me for breaking the Dragon Code. I personally don't give a damn about the Dragon Code. I'm not like them, if you haven't noticed."

"No, I've noticed. For you callin' them yer 'brothers', y'all sure don't have shit in common."

"Because we're not actually siblings. We come from completely different parents."

"Then why the hell do you--"

Storm lifts her finger, silencing him. "... We're not siblings in the traditional way ponies, and I guess you humans, think. We were nesting siblings, which means we were laid and hatched in the same brooding cycle. Parents don't matter, the time of hatch does. We all break out of our eggs at the same time, and the first thing we see is each other. Nothing forces us to stay together, but we usually do. Dragons form tight-knit groups for survival. We avoid larger clusters of other dragons if we can help it."

"Hmn. Definitely a unique culture, I'll give it that. What kind of dragons were yer brothers? The one I fought was real big and mean."

"They're what you call traditional dragons. All of my brothers were, and they were all fire elementals. Most dragons are like him, big, strong, and tied to some sort of element. There are dragons much bigger than him too, he wasn't even close to the biggest."

"Good thing I ain't had a run-in with them then. 'N what about you? You ain't nothin' like they are. You don't got fire and don't walk on four legs, you walk like a man does."

"A 'man'?" she repeats incredulously, raising her browline.

"A human. Man, human, they're interchangeable. No disrespect intended."

Storm smiles, making it obvious that she was never really upset. "I'm what you call a sleek-scale, and I'm an electric elemental."

"A sleek-scale, huh. ... Guess it fits yer appearance. Sleek 'n scaly."

"Yup. We're a type of dragon that comes from a really weird lineage."

"I fancy weird things," Crimson smiles slightly. "Tell me about it."

"It's not really that interesting, and I wasn't alive back then. Everything I know about it was just told to me."

"Nonetheless."

"Why do you care so much?"

"'Cuz you're real interestin' to me."

"A real flatterer, aren't you?" she smiles coyly. "Alright, I'll tell you, since you're that interested. The tale goes, dragonkind was fighting some war that happened centuries ago. A lot of it was ambush tactics and recon, so not a whole lot of front-line fighting was happening. Front-line battle is where dragons do the best, we usually win those fights. But far more often, it wasn't direct attacks. Dragons got picked off by random ambushes. After too many casualties, dragons realized that raw strength wasn't the key to winning this war, it was information. We needed infiltrators and scouts, and all around more discrete mobility. You can probably guess the big dragons with the huge wings weren't gonna cut it. For generations, specific dragons had sex with each other so they can breed certain children. These children would decrease in genetic size as they kept going. The smaller they got, the faster and sneakier they got. ... Though, uh, I'm not entirely sure what happened along the line, but as they got smaller, their bodies started changing too. Maybe it was a genetic mutation that they decided to roll with... intentional or not."

"That's a mess of effort to go through just to win a war, and it must'a gone on for a real long time. The hell were y'all going up against?"

"Changelings. They invaded the Dragonlands in their self-righteous quest for expanding their hive. They're not hard to kill, but they're a problem when there's a billion of them disguised as rocks right next to you, waiting for you to turn your back."

Crimson is visibly confused by her answer.

"... Changelings? You know, the bug things with the wings and the holes? All black? Can transform into literally anything?"

"Never heard of 'em, but hot damn, they can transform? Like shape-shift? ... That means they can make themselves into a dragon."

"Yup! But what they CAN'T do is survive in magma, regardless of impersonating a dragon! Every day, the dragons would be forced to 'cleanse' themselves by stepping into a pit of magma to prove that they weren't a changeling in disguise. Sometimes I wish I could have been there, this tactic caught so many changelings! The ones that refused to get in were mauled on the spot, and the ones stupid enough to actually go in melted and popped like gross little blisters~"

Crimson's expression wrinkles in mild distaste, but he skips over her brutal imagery. "So you're the product of a war-time strategy."

"Uh-huh. Pretty cool right? I personally like being me. I don't see a need for being as tall as a pony building. Plus, walking on two legs is more useful than four."

"As a bipedal myself, can't argue with that. But that don't mean being on four legs don't have its purpose."

"Yyyeah, but... it's definitely not for me. Getting down on all fours is super uncomfortable. Trust me, I've tried it."

"That's to be expected. You've got a similar structure to us. You kinda remind me of a woman."

"A woman? Pfft, if you're trying to offend me, trust me, it isn't working."

"No-- it," Crimson sighs, "it's an observation, Storm. I ain't tryin' to offend anyone."

"Haha, you sure are easy to tease~"

"... Yeah, I bet it's easy to tease a man who's tryin' to be serious." He rubs his forehead in annoyance. "You come up with anythin' yet?"

"To trade for?"

"What else?"

"Mmm..." she begins to 'ponder'.

"Storm. Seriously."

"Whaaat? I'm thinking!"

"No yer fuckin' not."

"I'm not right now because you keep talking. ... Hmmm... mmm..." she taps the bottom of her chin, "... Oh! Hey, do you wanna get in now?" she points down at the pool water again.

Crimson's listless expression eyes at her cheeky grin. She holds her pointing posture and smile as he scowls.

"Water's still waaaarm~"

"Why do you want me to get in so badly?"

"I like the company~"

"It'd be great if you were serious for at least a minute."

"I am being serious! I seriously asked you if you wanna get in! Come on, hop in with me!"

"What happens if I don't?"

"Then..." she smiles, "it'll probably take longer for me to make up my mind."

"So if I get in, you'll finally tell me what you want?"

"... Maaybe."

"Only a maybe, huh. You're really not lookin' to make this easy fer me. ... Well, unfortunately for the both of us, I didn't bring a change'a swimmin' trunks."

"'Swimmin' trunks?'" she mocks lightly.

"Clothes. I didn't bring spare clothes. Wasn't expectin' to get wet today."

"That reminds me! Why do you even need to wear clothes? Even the humans in Equestria don't."

"Because they're too stupid to make 'em or put 'em on. I reckon they hole up and freeze half to death in the winter. We don't have fur or scales, so clothes keep us warm and shield us from the elements."

"So I get that, but why do you need clothes to get wet? I just said it's warm, you have nothing to worry about."

"We also wear clothes to hide our private sectors."

"Ppft," Storm raises her shoulders in giddy amusement. "What did you say? 'Private sectors?' Is that what you're worried about? You are a lot more self-conscious than I thought you were, Crim~"

"I do it fer the courtesy of others. I ain't ashamed of the human form, but I'm sure walkin' free-willy ain't the most pleasant thing fer others."

"All I hear is excuses," she grins cockily.

"You must be deaf then."

"That means even a deaf dragon can hear through your insecurities."

"..." Crimson's left brow raises.

"Hoo, didn't like that, did ya'?"

"... So you said, if I get in the water, you'll maybe come up with somethin' to trade for?"

"I do remember saying that, yeah," she grins coyly.

Crimson stands up and takes a few steps back from the pool. Storm's impish eyes watch him as he steps back out of his sandals and reaches down for his cargo shorts. He unbuttons them and lets them slide down his legs, crumpling up at his ankles.

Storm's eyes beam instantly upon his... private sector.

Crimson strides with a high chin towards the pool, crouching down and sinking himself into the water. She was right, it's warm and pleasant. It almost feels as if this water is gently vibrating, doing wonders to relax his achy body. He sits down on the floor of the pool, deep enough for his chest to submerge, and he extends his legs forward, feet brushing against the inside of Storm's thighs. There isn't much space for his legs to work with, but Storm doesn't seem to mind the contact.

He exhales deeply and closes his eyes in relief. He should have listened to her earlier, this water, be it some form of magic, is exactly the repose his body demanded. So much so, it takes a moment for his mental processes to boot back up again. "... Since you said 'maybe', what're the possibilities lookin' like?" He goes a few seconds without receiving a response, despite clearly feeling Storm right in front of him. It prompts him to open his left eye in order to see what she is doing. ... She has a very mischievous grin on her front, directed right at him. "... Uuh..."

Suddenly, her thighs come together on his legs, capturing his feet between their sleek plumpness. She giggles as her slitted eyes stare at him with an energy that describes primal instinct. "I think I might know what I want to trade~"

Crimson's both eyes open, his expression furrowing. Somehow he knew that it would eventually lead up to this. No, he always knew it would lead up to this. But, to play her game, he replies simply, "Let's hear it then."

"... That little blue pony with the glasses can have that necklace. But I want you in return."

"... You're not fuckin' serious."

"I mean, it's only fair right? Her magical angel human for my ancient powerful necklace?"

"I get bein' enticed with a fling, but you wanna own me? Storm, you best realize I ain't anyone's property. I ain't like the humans from here."

"Aww, really?~" her voice is completely sarcastic, accompanied by a devious grin.

"Yeah. Really. Moonlight doesn't own me. We're friends. As in, I'm not up fer trade."

Storm's hands travel to the confined feet between her thighs, and she begins to gently run her claws in between his toes. Crimson shivers at the tickling, pleasant touch, but also feels wary that she might stab him or lop off a toe at any second. "... Just friends?" she murmurs with her sly smile.

"Yeah. Friends. No owner, no pet. I'm my own man, 'n I'm keepin' it that way."

"That's a shame~" Storm's lewd stare only strengthens. "I guess your pony friend won't be getting her necklace any time soon~"

"... I think she will," he retorts with a new track of thought.

"Ho? And how are you gonna do that? Steal it from me? ... If you are, it's right over there on the table. You saw it when you walked in, didn't you? Nothing's stopping you from..." her clawed fingers fit themselves in between each of his toes, clasping his foot, "... taking it."

Crimson analyzes her lubricious demeanor. Her smile, the tone of her voice, she doesn't look like she's threatening him. In fact, it looks like the complete opposite. The glimmer in her eyes cares not for the necklace, but for... something else. The same something that she has been aiming for since the beginning. While there are many alternatives he'd prefer to take, he comes to the conclusion that this might be the only thing she wants for it. There is plenty of nice and shiny things on that stone table of hers, it comes as no surprise she doesn't want any more physical treasures. He doesn't want to alienate her, especially not when he's almost at his objective, but his pride can't keep quiet unless he asks, "Is there... anythin' else you'd want fer the necklace? That ain't me?"

"Nope~" she giggles.

Of course. Well, it didn't hurt to ask. "Right, well... I ain't gonna appropriate yer belongings. I came here to barter. Now, you've made an offer... but I gotta say it's pretty steep. How about we find some middle ground, cut a deal we can both agree on."

"I'm listening~"

"Fer the price of one necklace..." he musters the courage to finish, "... I'll be yer trophy piece fer ONE day."

"One day?~"

"One day."

"Hmm..." Storm genuinely begins to ponder now. Though, it seems that the pink clouds in her head quickly override any other rail of thought, and it is affirmed when she hums, "Deal~"

"Great. So! One day. Clocks starts tickin' now-- hwoh!"

Storm leaps forward towards him and pins him to the wall of the pool, her teeth-clenched smile hovers close to his front. "Then let's not waste any time~"

"It ain't a far cry to assume I'm about to be the center of yer cardinal desires."

"Glad you got the hint~" she murrs close to his face.

"Now this might come as a shock to you, but I ain't never had a dragon come up on me before. ... I should probably get to know yer, uh... features, before gettin' into the middle of it."

"I'm simple, I've only got one~" she smirks, reaching down to clasps his wrist. He tugs his hand towards her rear, placing it under her tail and in between her tush. "Feel around~"

Crimson's limp hand begins to respond to his command and does as she asks. His fingers slide in between her cheeks, gliding up, then down until he finds--

"Mmn~" Storm exhales onto him.

"Reckon I found it."

"Mmhmm~"

Crimson's fingers gently press against it, feeling it to be rather small for an entrance to her love tunnel. It's silky and perfectly rounded, definitely a design he's unfamiliar with. It doesn't come off as unpleasant though, especially since its form is unpretentious and meek... maybe a bit too much so. Unless it's capable of really reforming itself, there might be some size troubles inbound, worse than a certain partner before.

"Nn, now..." Storm beams right into his hazel eyes in a commandeering manner, "... sit up, get out of the water... lay down for me."

Crimson feels her warm, salivating breaths shoot through her muzzle, her face looms less than an inch from his. "Yes, ma'am," he replies sarcastically, sitting himself up to do as she says. He gets up and sits on the edge of the pool, leaving his legs hanging inside the water. Before he has the chance to rise from the pool, Storm crawls on top of him and pushes him down, resting his back on the cave floor. Her wings spread for a moment to flap twice and she sits on his thighs, just under his groin. Her girthy tail wraps around his left leg and she leans forward, putting her hands on his chest and staring down at him from above with a clenched smile that speaks libertine intent.

"Someone's excited," Crimson comments.

"Let's just say it's been a while. A long while. ... Now quit stalling. Get to work."

Crimson's mouth forms a small 'o' as his brows line at the top of his eyes. He lifts his head and looks down at his soft member, then returns his gaze to her. "... Storm?"

"What? What is it?"

"Uuuh..."

"Just get your stupid snake and wiggle it inside me already," she whines with desperation.

Crimson's abdomen flexes as he stifles a hearty laugh brought on by her unconventional choice of words. Storm narrows her eyes at him and clenches her jaw in frustration. "'Wiggle it inside?' What on earth are you goin' on about? What's doin' the wigglin'?"

"Y-Your--! Uuugh!" She reaches down and clasps his soft member into her right hand, squeezing it firmly. "This! This is doing the wiggling!"

"Woah, woah, careful with the claws, Storm. I'm fixin' to believe you're confusin' my anatomy with yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I ain't no reptile expert, but I think you're assumin' I work like one of yer folk. My thing don't just... wiggle."

"Okay, smart guy, then how does it work?"

"You gotta let it grow first. Let it get hard 'n stiff."

"... W- ... What?"

"Did I stutter?"

Storm looks down at the soft member in her hold. "... Grow? ... It's supposed to get bigger?"

"That's how most mammals work. There a problem?" he raises his left brow, clearly knowing what the dilemma is, but unable to resist giving her a hard time.

"... Um... it's... supposed to get bigger?"

"You just asked that."

"How am I supposed to fit it in if it gets bigger?"

"By stickin' it where it's supposed to go. I don't see the issue here."

"You don't get it! Dragons don't-- ... they don't get 'bigger,' they just... slide out! Like stupid snakes! Thin, long, stupid snakes!"

"Huh," he hums in realization, putting together the uncanny imagery in his head. "Now I get what you were talkin' about. ... Kinda weird. So they're like... rope?"

"Exactly!" Her eyes dilate then round out again as she continues staring at his loose staff. "... How much bigger does it get?"

"Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

She scowls at him for the unsatisfying answer, then returns to her temporary prize. "... So, how do I get it to grow?"

"Just like yer holdin' it, start squeezin' on it gently. Not too hard, and don't scratch. I ain't into that kinda stuff."

With mild hesitation, Storm begins to close her hand around his member again and again, feeling its squishy self cup around her hand. As she squeezes, it begins to slowly expand and become more firm. "It's... working?"

"Mmhm."

She feels her pulse beating in her ears as it continues to wake. It expands out of her hand, becoming too large to hold it like before. She now places both hands on his shaft, continuing to squeeze. "This is... really weird."

"Wouldn't doubt it. First time seein' a man's pride?"

"No? I've seen wild humans before AND their 'pride'... I've just... never seen it do this before. ... What do I do next?"

"Now carefully," Crimson begins, "hold onto it firmly, and stroke it up and down."

She sits idly for a moment, trying to mentally visualize what he's describing. She then moves her hands up and down very slowly.

"There you go, just like that. Yer a quick learner~"

"When does it stop growing?"

"Right about..." he pauses himself, feeling the blood rushing into his member until he feels it fully awoken. He flexes it so it props itself stiffly, standing at is maximum size.

Storm, startled by the sudden increase in girth by the flex, lets go and holds her hands up. "I-I didn't do anything."

"I know. I did. I can't control it like a snake 'r whatever, but I can still move it. There. It's ready fer you," he tilts his chin at his lower-self, keeping his eyes focused on Storm's.

"... I liked it better when it was smaller."

"'N why's that?"

"Well look at it! How am I supposed to fit that?"

"Carefully."

"Smartass," she mumbles as she looks away. If a blush was capable of showing itself on her smooth, hard cheeks, it would be burning. She unravels her tail from around his leg and scooches herself forward. She plants her hands on his chest, claws gently prodding at his skin, and uses them as leverage to lean on as she lifts her lower body up. With it, her tail raises as well, properly exposing her glistening sex.

Crimson reaches down to his shaft, knowing that he might have to aid her in this strange mix of biology. While he directs his aim, Storm moves her hips forward to prop herself into position. She descends down onto his tip, feeling his head press firmly against her nether. The size difference is dreadfully apparent now that they're against each other, her body never meant to take in anything with thickness and girth, but her drive doesn't falter. Judging by the lust-lidded eyes and clenching teeth, she might even be eager to immerse herself into this new experience.

Storm descends onto his staff, applying the much-needed pressure to force him inside. "Ghmf!~ Rhk!~" The stretching of her entrance commences immediately, the ring of her sex expands past a comfortable level to surround his tip. "Nh, ahh..." She manages to engulf it inside of her, but comes to a stop to compose herself. She turns her head to the side and peers down, examining their link.

Crimson's body feels a shock of pleasure drive from Storm's tight self. The sensation of feeling her ring conform to his shape and reluctantly swallow him in feels quite peculiar, but so pleasant. He isn't sure if it's the climate in the cave, but he's starting to feel very warm.

"Egh... eheh~" Storm huffs.

"Mm?"

"It really hurts."

"We could try somethin' else maybe."

"No. Nu-uh. This... I want this."

"You sure?"

"Quit talking and gimme some help," she signals for assistance on her descent.

Crimson places his hands at her shapely hips, holding her hard but smooth contours to help her down. As Storm continues to receive more of his length, it becomes progressively more difficult enter.

"Ah! Ahaaa!~" her cries of pain come sadistically. Her tunnel is widening all around him, the vigorous intruder ravages its way into her deepest reaches. The forceful conforming of her insides cause a conglomeration of body-tingling satisfaction and gripping twinge, both dancing in harmony.

Crimson's chest becomes victim to the reflexive grip of Storm's claws, sinking slightly into his skin as she squirms through the enticing burn. As he comes closer to hilt, his engulfed length affirms the feeling he was receiving earlier. It isn't the room that's hot... it's Storm. She feels exceptionally hot inside, be it her natural temperature or something else. While her exterior body may be a bit cool from her scales, the sex that grips him tightly is a furnace, unrelenting with its silky fire.

The fleshy interior of her walls also feels indescribably peculiar, a sensation he definitely never thought he'd take in. Her insides feel like a tight pocket of slick, plumpish flesh smothering him from all sides rather than a smooth but firm tunnel. Even the love-liquid she is producing feels different, hotter and more slippery than he's used to, but in the very least, it does a well-enough job to guide his oversized member into her unfitting nether.

"Rik! Aah!~" She moans as she plants her rear onto his crotch, successfully taking in his length. She leans back to feel it stand straight, pillaring her in place. Shen then examines their connection again, and a huge smile presents itself on her face. "Aahaha! I fucking did it!"

"Heh, you sure did."

"Eheh~" she winces slightly, but the smile doesn't fade. "So is this the part where you cum?"

Crimson snickers at her terrible lack of modesty. "Is that an insult?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're expectin' me to pop off already?"

"I mean, that's how it usually goes."

"'N what does usually refer to?"

"Sex? You know, in for a bit and done?" Crimson shakes his head slowly to her presumptions. "I, uh... guess that's not how it works with you humans?"

"Bingo. You're in it for the long-run. Now you just hold still 'n balance yerself. Let me do the work."

Storm's expression wanes. She's mildly unsure of what he's talking about, but she leans on his chest with shrugged shoulders, moving to prepare herself.

Crimson's hold on her hips strengthens. With a sly smile, he bucks his hips while her guard is lowered, slushing his rod into her strained tunnel.

"Uoh!" Storm's eyes break open, huffing in pain. "Ow! Asshole!"

"Hehwhat?"

"That hurt!"

"Softer?"

"Yeah! Softer!" she scowls at him, clenching his chest.

Crimson nods and looks down. He commences to slowly gyrate his hips instead of thrusting, leaving his full length inside her while turning it in her reaches.

Her body twitches momentarily, expecting for it to hurt again... but it doesn't. In fact... "Unh, nnh~" Her back begins to arch in from the shocks of bliss. "Ooh~ Huo~ This feels... uohohohoo~"

"Good?"

"Uuh-huh~" she nods. "Nhnnn~ ... I've-- nnh~ -- ... never... uuh~"

"... You've never?"

She takes in a deep breath and moans through the exhale. A few seconds pass without reply, speaking momentarily through her emissions of pleasure. Her focus becomes feeling the large tool which methodically circles inside of her. "... Never... felt this good before~ This is... oooh~"

"Hard to believe you're already gettin' googly-eye'd."

"I'm-- nnh~ -- ... I'm... what now?" Her unevenly blinking eyes look down to his, solidifying his point, but completely missed by her through the sensation. Her eyes lull elsewhere without objective. Her back slowly arches further and her chin rises. Her nervous system begins sending blissful shocks throughout her body, her claws clench tighter on his skin. "Nnh!~"

Crimson grunts as her sharpened nails pierce his skin and draw insignificant amounts of blood. Accompanying this mild disturbance, his cock is on fire. The longer it sits in her body, held by the vicious hugs of her loving walls, it only becomes hotter. His brows furrow as he focuses himself on pleasing her, minding not the overwhelming factors to their exchange. He keeps his attention on Storm's progressively passionate moans, already becoming flamboyant.

"Oooh! Ooohoh! Wuh-- Hnn!~" her chest puffs out and her eyes close tightly. "What's haah~ -- happening?~ Nnnn!~"

Crimson doesn't reply, he keeps at his form. It's only been a few minutes, but the signs of her incoming peak are hard to miss. Her sex is clenching randomly, her inner walls are contracting around him.

"S-St-- stah~ ... staah!~" her voice is becoming a mess of moans and slurred words. It seems like she's trying to relay something, but it's a mess of breaths. "Sssaah!~ Staaahh!~"

Crimson keeps swirling, turning her tunnel like a methodical swivel, slushing her pent-up juices that are unable to trickle from the sex that grips the base of his shaft.

"Aaah, aaah!~ Haaa! Staah!~" Her body is becoming stiff. Her world is fizzing away with the drowning of her senses. Nothing is making sense, nothing feels real. This unfelt tide of bliss that she has never experienced before confuses and overtakes her. She hits her limit, and her claws dig into his chest, prompting him to stop swirling.

"Rrh," Crimson winces.

"GUH!~" Her eyes shoot open and she leans forward reflexively, resting her chest on his. Her dilated pupils tremble as stare blankly at his face. They're unfocused, stupid, and completely lacking any cognitive thought. Her mouth hangs slightly open, leaving her sharp teeth presented in a mindless fashion. She rides through her climax in this position, gawking at Crimson as she twitches.

Crimson stares back at her, amused at her silent, statue-esque posture. Definitely not an 'o-face' he'd ever seen before.

Finally, the high of her release subsides, followed by deep gasps, "GyUuuuh! ... Uuuh! Guh! Huh!" Her blank expression is quick to furrow in anger.

"... What?"

"What do you mean what!? I was trying to tell you to stop!"

"Is that what the gobbledygook you were muttering was?"

"Y-Wih-- ... Yeah!"

"Why'd you want me to stop? Though you were likin' it."

"I was! I did! It's just... it... it was a lot to take in. What even happened to me there?"

"You're shittin' me. You've never hit a climax before?"

"... I can do that?"

"Apparently, yeah."

"Dragons never last this long so I've genuinely never felt this before. ... I've been missing out on a lot."

"Behold one of a man's best features~"

"Hmh," Storm looks away and smiles, blinking lusciously at nothing in particular. She rests on him, her chest against his, for long enough to get her bearings. She tilts her hips left and right, feeling his solid girth still filling her insides. "Nnnh~" Her eyes briefly close in returning pleasure, but also prominent discomfort. Her love tunnel has become considerably sensitive, making his shaft's very presence inside of her stimulating, but overbearing. "... You've still got over twenty-three hours with me, y'know."

"I know."

"And I'm gonna make the best of it. I'm not letting you get off so easily. ... Here, help me get it out, I need a moment..." Crimson obliges, lifting his hands from his sides and onto her hips. Storm sits up and looks down at his chest, ready to place her hands back in their original position. She notices the grave markers left behind by her claws, which trickle tiny amounts of blood. "... Oh, uh... did I do that?"

"Yeah."

"Uh... sorry."

"Don't worry about it. C'mon, up you go."

Storm places her hands on his chest and leans on them, lifting herself, painfully slowly, off of his member. "Hnnnn! Nnnn! Shit!" She stops briefly and sighs, then continues again. "Nn-- nnh--"

Pop!

"Aah~"

Her sex remains briefly in the shape of his tip, left agape and dripping profusely with the copious amounts of love liquid that had built but never escaped. It comes down the insides of her thighs and coats Crimson's as well, making a mess of the previously-clean exchange. Crimson rests his throbbing member in between the base of her tail and her left ass-cheek, letting it breathe air away from its hot confine.

Storm falls back down on his chest and lets her eyes close. Unsure whether it's intentional or not, Crimson sees that she is smiling. Her breaths are quick to return to a normal steady pace, speaking well for her conditioning. While her eyes remain closed and her body relaxes, she chirps quietly, "Now I get why those ponies have that human fetish~"

"The what now?"

Her two eyes open to stare at him in disbelief. "You can't tell me you haven't heard. Everyone knows. Ponies are into humans in more than a platonic way."

"Yeah, I've heard, but you make it sound like they're all into it. It's a taboo, it ain't a common occurrence."

"Mmm, well... yeah. But I'd say it happens often enough for it to be an appropriate label. I always thought it was really weird, but it never bothered me. ... It actually made me kinda curious."

"So this was somethin' you wanted to try for a while now."

"I never wanted to try it... it was just a curiosity."

"Why'm I havin' a hard time believin' you."

"Probably just because you're... dumb or something."

"Really now. What was dumb was them faces you were makin' while I swirled you like ice cream."

Storm's face scrunches and scowls at him.

"What did you last, like... six minutes? Didn't take much to get you cryin' 'n wet."

"Hmph. It's only easy for you since the average male dragon only lasts like thirty seconds."

"Chalk it up with nature, missy. Lots of animals only last that long, humans are quite the exception."

"Ch," she scoffs as she sits back up and grins. She shifts her hips to sway the manhood held against her tail, feeling it still pulsing and ready for work. "Let's see how long you can go then, hyu-mun~"

"Up for another already? That was pretty quick."

"We dragons can recover pretty quickly~"

"Same way you come to a halt too," he smiles cheekily.

"Don't get cocky now," she grips at his shoulders, looming over him and beaming with a mischievous grin, exactly like she did the first time, "you got me this time, but you've got a looong day ahead of you. Let's see how you... hold up~"

Bzzt, bzzzzt! Bzzt, bzzzzt! Bzzt, bzzzzt!

He reaches his right hand towards the coasters, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel. His eyes watch the dirt road ahead of him as he feels around for his phone. He touches it, then grips it, taking it into his hand and bringing it up to his peripheral vision. He pries the flip-phone apart then flicks it so it opens promptly. He shifts his eyes briefly to the phone screen, seeing that his sister is calling him again, for the twelfth time today. It doesn’t bother him though. He lets it buzz in his hand for a bit longer, he keeps his eyes focused on the road.

The dirt road is surrounded by miles of plains, trees, grassy hills, and borders of forest in the distance. He drives an old, chip-painted, dented pick-up truck that once belonged to his grandfather. It may not look like much, and the air conditioner doesn’t work, and it screeches loudly when it starts up, and the shift-stick might get stuck in neutral sometimes, but it gets him from point A to point B. That’s all that matters.

It’s the middle of the night, the moon shines brightly over the lone-star state. Few clouds hang in the sky, and a gentle breeze that amplifies the cold blows through the air. His cold hand grips the steering wheel, his breath can be seen puffing out of his nose after each breath. He drives along the country-side, having finished work and school for the day, now aiming to return home to his sister.

Today was like any other day, uneventful, dull, and usual, just how he likes it. He rises at six in the morning to start his day of work at seven, at a warehouse that moves packages around for delivery, and after his ten-hour shift, he goes to school until the late evening. His backpack, filled with unnecessarily expensive books, sits in the passenger seat next to him. He takes some solace in the fact that his school is payed for by being a veteran, so his work check all goes to whatever is needed around the house.

He had joined the military when he was seventeen, doing his best to juggle being an enlisted soldier, having been on two tours of duty, and school. He eventually gave up on school when college rolled around, and he gave all of his time to the force, where he would stay in for seven years before leaving at twenty-four. He would have stayed longer for a higher retirement pay-grade, but due to certain… complications, he retired after his contract was over.

His older brother Vigil and his father Cobalt were also in the military, they had joined as Army infantrymen. Crimson was too young to remember his father, as he was only a baby when an Army officer appeared at his old home. Vemi, Crimson's mother, was handed a folded flag and an unspecified cause of death for her husband.

That was the beginning of the long trail of tears the Sky family would walk on. Vigil also died serving, and according to everyone Crimson had asked when he joined the force, Vigil went "AWOL", but was "coincidentally" found dead later… also, with an unspecified cause of death.

Crimson didn't understand how the two alleged 'best enlisted troops in the entire goddamn military' could have possibly died without a known cause. He remembers being in his old childhood home, still in elementary school, when he saw his mother crying in her room, hiding herself from him and his sister. The pain of losing Cobalt years before was still hurting her, then finding out that she lost her son as well, the sadness became too much.

Years passed, and she never could get over the depression of losing them, and it literally made her sick. Due to stress, a weakening immune system, and heart complications, Vemi unwillingly passed away when her two remaining children were still seniors in high school.

So now, the last two remaining family members of this broken family have no one else but each other. Crimson and his older sister Viola, maternal twins born but minutes apart, lived under the assumption that their family fell apart because of the unfortunate plagues of worldly conflict. It was this simple philosophy that gave them grief, but also fortitude. Their family suffered tragedy, but that is the game of life. They believed they were dealt a terrible hand, and they had nothing else but to accept it.

Now that he’s older, Crimson knows it was all bullshit. He still doesn't know anything that could point to the truth of his brother and father, but he knows his eyes have had a veil placed over them by everyone he's ever met, even his own mother.

After enough public-relations idiocy and pathetic sob stories that never added up, he knew what the truth held. Just like him and his sister, his brother and his father were different, they were… special. Supernatural, even. He isn't sure what him and his family really are, but he knows this for sure, he is different.

In elementary school, during recess, he would fall and scrape his knee. He would scratch his arm on something, or accidentally step barefoot into a thorn. He would never complain about the pain or cry about it, while the other kids would ball their eyes out.

When him and some pals would be playing around, he found himself accidentally hurting them when he'd get physical. He wouldn't try to put very much force behind his pushes or his tags, but he would send other children back several feet and caused them to fall to the ground. Nothing serious ever happened, but he got in trouble more than once with the principle because of coaches reporting his behavior.

In P.E, he would continuously run without stopping. His coaches were worried sick that he would suddenly collapse from exhaustion and have a seizure. No, he ran and ran, and seldom became tired.

In class, he would receive outstanding scores in tests with little to no studying. He looked over things once, and he could tell you all about it. Many opportunities presented themselves as he was growing up, many scholarships in sports, academics, and electives were primed opportunities to make it in big-league schools or jobs.

He rejected all of it, preferring to live in his own little world with only his sister in mind. He was anxious that it might have not been able to happen because of them.

His mother always told him the government had a close eye on their family because of these odd abilities that were passed on from his father's genetics, which his father obtained from his own father, and so forth. The only thing Crimson knew about these abilities was that they came from the patrilineal side of his family. He tried to ask questions about his 'odd abilities,' he tried to ask his mother everything he was left in the dark about. He never received a straight answer from her.

When he was still in the military, he did his best to seek information about his family members and their cause of death. He would ask his superior officer, Major Snowfall, about what she knew of his relatives. Cobalt was Snowfall's second-in-command, and Vigil was enlisted under her as well. It was constant excuses and circular explanations. Just like his own mother, Snowfall never gave a straight answer, and no one else seemed to know what happened either.

All his life he asked questions, all he wanted to know was the truth. He never got it, and his questions remained unanswered. After his mother passed away, and more pieces of the puzzle became clear, the most important realization that had struck him was that his life was ruined because of the supernatural bullshit that came from his dad's genes.

Now, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. He no longer wants any part of his supernatural abilities, and in fact, he hates himself partially for even having them. They have been nothing but a curse to him his whole life. But he's wallowed in sadness long enough. The death of his family members broke him when he was younger, and now, he is an artifact poorly glued together by apathy and frustration. The only force keeping him together is his sister. They live alone, with no one else to disturb them.

Viola was never a people person, she was an introvert from the very start, just like her father Cobalt. In his younger days, Crimson was a social butterfly like his mother Vemi, but as he grew older and hardships overbore him, he slowly became too depressed and detached to try and form relationships with other people.

Before his emotional shambling, there was one person he formed a relationship with that he saw as another family member. Her name was Violet, and she became the only person that had any approximation to him and his sister. She started as a childhood friend, eventually becoming Crimson's significant other, but she had moved away just after Vemi’s passing because of her parents acquiring high-paying jobs in another state. Ever since she left, the siblings remained alone, comfortable and happy being with only each other. They never cared for anyone else, and neither of them see that changing in the near future.

Besides, if his conspiracies are right, avoiding people is the best course of action anyway. In an attempt to further himself from everything his brother and father took part of, predominantly his powers, Crimson didn’t renew his military contract, he gathered enough money to buy land in the country-side, and he left behind everything that could trace him back to having any sort of inhuman ability. So far, it seems to have worked, no one seems to be the wiser.

When Vigil passed away, it was frequent how often he would see them. They were watching him and his sister. The men who wear black suits, dark shades, and carry silent firearms. The men who drive technologically advanced cars that are as black as the night. They watched him as he would walk home after middle school. They watched him as he would go to the grocery store with his mother. They remained discrete, but not enough to avoid Crimson catching glimpse of them. Maybe they wanted to be seen on purpose. Maybe they were silently sending messages with their appearances... "We're watching you, freak."

Eventually, they no longer appeared. After years of living a normal life without extraordinary happenings, they stopped appearing at random street corners or parking lots. He's glad that he's being left alone. Now, he can live a peaceful, regular life with his sister. No more superpower bullshit, no more death and depression. Just a normal, happy life with nothing special occurring, just the way he likes it.

Bzzt, bzzzzt! Bzzt, bzz--

Finally, his thumb presses down on the green button to answer the call, just before it automatically hung up. “Mm?”

“…”

His tired eyes continue staring at the road as nothing comes out from the other end. “… Viola?”

“… Crimson,” a quiet, muffled, feminine voice calls from the other end.

“Mhm?”

“… Are you coming home already?”

“Yeah. Few minutes,” he replies. He can hear some quiet shuffling happening in the background of her end.

“… Crimson,” she speaks up again.

“Hm?”

“… I miss you~”

Crimson doesn’t reply immediately. He holds the phone to his ear, but he says nothing. He’s been gone all day, just as he usually is, and naturally, Viola gets lonely being by herself at home all afternoon.

He glances around himself, through his side windows and rear-view mirror. He checks for any vehicles that could be following him, a nervous habit he still isn’t rid of, then he takes a right turn into a small, faded road that is surrounded by trees. The road gets bumpy, the old shocks on the truck make it very uncomfortable to sit through the bouncing.

“… You’re almost home,” Viola says softly and happily. She can hear the racket caused by the truck’s bouncing on the dirt trail that leads to their home.

"Sure am. ... Hn?" Crimson squints his eyes. As he looks forward, down at the narrow dirt road ahead of him, he notices something off. “… Viola?”

“Yes?” she asks, shuffling around again.

He continues staring at the dirt road. Tire tracks, patterned completely different from the wheels on his truck, are present. No one ever takes this path. It’s hidden in between trees, faded out and unkempt, for a reason. This is private property. There shouldn’t be any other tire tracks except his.

He reaches with his hand, the one that holds his phone, and he uses his wrist to keep the steering wheel straight. He uses his left hand to turn off his headlights, and he eases off the gas pedal. He lets the truck rumble forward on its own as it slows down, inching along the rocky dirt path in near-complete darkness.

His home is built inside a circular clearing of trees with a ten-foot tall metal picket fence around the perimeter. The bumpy road he slowly rolls along begins to smooth out, the tree line around him becomes more opened as he enters the clearing and approaches the picket gate to his home.

He gently presses the brakes, halting his truck, and he turns his keys to kill the engine. He switches the stick to park, and he sinks into his seat, brows furrowed. … He can see a vehicle blending in with the darkness ahead of him, parked right next to his gate. His heart beats in his ears, adrenaline begins to run through his veins.

He brings his phone back to his cheek and whispers quietly, “Viola.”

“… Yes?”

“Lock the doors. Turn off the lights. Close the blinds.”

“… Crimson.”

“Viola, listen to me. They're there.”

“Crimson, it’s been years… there’s no one after us. Please just come up to the gate.”

“But they’re right there!” he quietly grumbles. "They're right at our front gate!"

He hears a sigh come from his sister. She shuffles to rise from the couch, and she walks towards the front door. She flicks on a switch next to it, turning on the front porch lights of the house.

The illumination shines across the front yard, all the way to the gate. The silhouette of the black, blended car is shone upon, revealing it to be nothing more than an overgrown bush that he should trim down or get rid of. Crimson blinks his tired, dilated eyes in disbelief.

He turns his head around and presses on the brakes to turn on his rear brake lights, having them shine on the dirt path behind him. He sits up in his seat, attempting to find the tire tracks that didn’t belong to his truck.

“… Crimson?” Viola whispers into the phone.

He… doesn’t see the tracks in the road, the ones he swore he clearly saw but a moment ago. It’s only the pattern left behind by his own vehicle.

“… Crimson, can you hear me?”

His eyes shift left and right small distances in his addlement. “… Y… Yeah... I’ll… be inside in a bit.”

“… Okay,” she murmurs into the phone happily, holding it close to her mouth.

Crimson closes the flip-phone together, hanging up the call. He turns the truck back on and he flicks on the headlights. Viola turns off the porch lights as soon as he hangs up, leaving the truck to illuminate the dark. He sets the truck on drive and he moves up to the metal gate. He then reaches up and presses a clip-on button attached to the sun visor, and the gate opens on its own.

He drives in and parks himself to the right-side of the two-story house, next to a small, modern silver car that belongs to his sister. He presses the button again to close the gate and he turns the truck off, sitting quietly in the dark. His eyes look forward, towards the backyard, but he stares at nothing.

A quiet ringing in his ears slowly increases in volume, voices begin to overtake his surroundings. It encompasses his hearing completely...

“Welcome to hell, men! I'm Drill Sergeant Mayoff! And I’ll be your personal guide for the next few weeks!”

-“Congratulations on completing basic, pickle. Right on time too, we’ve got a situation in the East. Get your bags, you're heading out.”

--"Hey, man. We’re not actually expected to kill anyone… are we?”

---“TANGOS AT OUR THREE! WE NEED AIR SUPPORT! WE'RE SO FUCKED! BRAVO, WHERE ARE YOU!?”

----“No, NO, NO! THAT’S A WOMAN AND HER KID! GODDAMN IT! WHAT THE FUCK IS BRAVO DOING!?”

-----“Good morning, mister Sky. How is your prescription treating you? … Oh. Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that. But, don’t fret, young man, all of the side-effects are only temporary. Continue to take your medicine, it will do you well in the long-run. I’ll up your dosage, come back and see me in three days. I’m always here in case you need anything.”

Tap, tap, tap

The overwhelming voices and the ringing in his ears halt. He blinks his barely-opened eyes before he turns his head to the left, staring out of the driver window. He sees his sister standing at the front window of the house, pushing the curtains aside, and tapping on the glass. She stares at him with her neutral expression, already familiar with what he's going through.

He sighs despondently, unbuckling his seat belt and exiting the truck, closing the driver door with an audible slam. He walks across the grass and dirt towards the porch, ascending a small set of stairs to reach the front door. He hears it unlock from the other side as he approaches it, and it opens.

A girl, much shorter than him, with jet black hair that covers her left eye, steps into the open. She wears only black, a long sleeve shirt and leggings, giving her a very dark and gothic appearance, even if the girl herself doesn’t act the part.

He strides towards her. Once he’s close enough, she leaps forward and hugs him, locking her arms around his neck, lifting her feet off the ground. He holds onto her by the bottom of her thighs, keeping her close. Her hair, which rubs its silky self all over his cheek and nose, smells of lightly-scented lavender. She doesn't care that she's coupled up to a human icicle, the cold temperature outside making Crimson's body cool to the touch. Inversely, his chilly self is warmed and comforted by Viola's body.

He walks into the house with her, using his foot to kick the door closed, and heads towards the couch in the living room. The television is on, running some sort of cartoon that Viola must have been watching. The autumn cold is quickly dispelled by both the fireplace in the living room and Viola’s warm, plentiful body. He glances around the house as he walks, admiring his sister's handiwork. Despite working long hours like he does, working for the post-office as a mailgirl, she comes home from work in the afternoon, cooks food, tends to the yard, and leaves the house spotless.

He stops at the living room couch, standing before it. Viola lets go of him, plopping down onto the cushion with a small smile. She brushes a lock of her hair away from her one exposed eye, staring up at him. “Your food’s on the table.”

“I can smell it from here. Thanks, Vi,” he smiles slightly, staring down at her cyan orb. "... Y'know, the older you get, the more you look like mom."

"You think so?" she asks with a bashful smile.

"Positive. You're just like she was, beautiful."

She closes her eyes happily, placing her hands in between her thighs as she rubs them together. Crimson turns around and walks towards the kitchen, moving to sit down at the wood dining table that only has two chairs. Viola returns her attention to the television, and Crimson takes a fork into his hand.

He glances down at the bowl of noodles she prepared for him. A self-made bone broth bathes thick udon noodles, accompanied by a diced boiled egg, chicken, carrots, green beans, and steamed enoki mushrooms. Viola always was a person for Asian cuisine, and Crimson sure did like eating it. After being stationed in Japan for two years, their food was the hardest thing to let go, a close second being the incredibly respectful culture. He's enthusiastic that his sister just-so happens to enjoy cooking their dishes.

He smiles down at the beautifully presented bowl, seeing how each ingredient was placed with love and care. … He loves his sister. He’s perfectly content with living the life he has now, as long as she’s with him. With a deep sight and a firm grip on the fork, he chows down.

~ Equestria, Ponyville ~

Discord, sitting smugly on his self-created throne, brings his lion paw to his mouth to faint an exaggerated yawn. He smirks at the six mares before him, watching as the amulets respective to their cutie marks begin to shine and glow with magic. In his bravado and confidence, Discord closes his eyes and smirks wider, highly amused at the lightshow they are putting on. The girls eye him seriously, in complete disdain for the trouble he has caused.

The world is lopsided, buildings are hovering upside-down in the air, the grass is a checkerboard of purples and greys, chunks of the ground are levitating on their own, and chocolate rain pours down randomly across the land. The chaotic doings of the draconequus are rampant throughout Equestria, and his stupid smile represents his satisfaction to these very things. His reign of chaos has only just begun, but he finds his victory already achieved. He opens his eyes to give his mildly enthused gaze to the six ponies that--

“Hngh!” he sounds as he ducks under a translucent, magical projectile in the shape of a cutie mark. “… Oh? What’s this?”

More and more magical projectiles come from the Elements of Harmony worn by the ponies, firing towards Discord as he stares at them in deepening concern.

“… No,” he calls quietly with widening eyes. He sees that the relics they wear are actually working, signaling that their friendship isn’t a fluke. They put past the differences and grievances they felt for each other due to his meddling, and now the Elements, charging with powerful magic, lift the Mane Six into the air and encase them in an aura. Their eyes shimmer bright, vibrant white, just as the elements they wear do. Like a high-powered explosive detonating, a projectile fires from their magical aura, appearing as a wave of colors.

The projectile arcs and collides into Discord, “NnNOOOOOOOOOOOO!” It burns him, makes him squirm, and it petrifies him back into stone, just as he was before he broke himself out.

Then, soon after his earthy imprisonment, the magical aura surrounding the Mane Six explodes, spreading mending magic throughout Equestria like a dome of pure light. The chaotic magic plaguing the land is removed, order is restored, and the frozen draconequus falls over onto his side with a crashing thud.

The girls watch his petrified body as it lies on the ground, then they glance at each other with wide smiles.

Shortly after his defeat, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Twilight Sparkle would be revered in Canterlot as the saviors of Equestria. They would celebrate in glee at their victory until the sun fell over the horizon.

After the festivities were over, they returned to Ponyville and said their goodbyes to each other for the night. They retreated to their homes, happy, exhausted, and ready to enjoy a time of peace.

After Crimson had finished eating and Viola had enough of watching Asian cartoons on television, they both decided it’s time to head off to bed.

When Crimson was building their home, his sister made it a point to tell him to only make two bedrooms, even though Crimson wanted to make three. When the home was finished and everything was settled, they slept in their respective bedrooms. But the first few nights of sleeping alone, Viola couldn't manage to fall asleep. She had spent her entire life, even during her teen years and early adult years, sleeping alongside her brother. She felt lonely, she felt a gaping hole in her belly when she was by herself, so, with the whole-hearted approval of her brother, she sleeps with him now. Viola took all of her things and put them in his room, leaving her old room as storage.

Getting ready for bed, Crimson stares into the mirror as he brushes his teeth, gawking into his own hazel orbs in displeasure at what he sees. The eyes of a man filled with regrets, grievances, and hollowness. The sound made by the bristles of his toothbrush gliding across his teeth are the only sound filling the silent night. When too much silence occurs, when there’s not enough noise, he starts to hear things. He starts to think he hears things.

He brushes with his mouth opened, hoping to amplify the sound enough to distract him…

“… Momma? Why are you crying?”

-“Hooh, sweetie, momma’s not crying,” she replies with her sweet, caring voice. She sniffles as she quickly wipes her face, putting up a strong front.

“… Is it the allergies again, momma?”

-“Yes, sweetie, it’s the allergies. I, u-uhm... go play with Viola, Crimson. I have to… make a phone call to the bank. I need to focus, okay?”

“… Okay, momma. ... Uuhm, momma?”

-“What is it, sweetie?”

“When is Vigil coming home? You said he comes home this week.”

-Her lips quiver as she faces away from her son, “He’ll... be home soon.”

He leans forward and spits the liquefied mass of toothpaste out of his mouth, rinsing it out along with his brush. He swishes the water around, still hunched over, then spits it out as well. He puts his red brush back into a plastic cup, which has a purple brush in it already, and he leans back up to stare at himself one more time.

“I ain't going nowhere.”

Crimson recoils defensively as a hollowed-eyed reflection of himself speaks, gently swaying left and right. Despite Crimson standing still, his reflection moves. It's hazy, it looks like an empty shell that's rasping for air.

Crimson blinks his eyes rapidly, staring back into the mirror angrily… and of course, the harrowing illusion that haunts him disappears, just as it always does. Now he only stares at his regular self.

He knows he's been off medication for a while now, and his doctor, who was highly against abstaining, told him he would have side-effects.

"Fuck the side-effects, fuck the medicine, and fuck the doctor."

He can still hear that voice, the voice of his reflection. It's as if he has an alter-ego that hates everything more than he does. It drives him mad, it talks too much. The only way to suppress it is to be around Viola or do work, keep himself busy.

With an grumbling sigh, he takes off his dirty plain-white shirt, his red running shoes and white socks, his washer-faded blue jeans, and finally his undergarments. Finding no use for anything else, his closet is filled with multiple pairs of exactly this attire. His running shoes are torn and falling apart from much use, and he hasn’t exactly had time to go out and buy a new pair, but as long as it still works, it’s good enough for him.

He moves to turn on the shower, listening to the plumbing system work its grace to shoot water from the shower head. He reaches his hand to gauge the water, and as soon as its warm, he steps in.

With lots of background noise and a warm blanket of liquid, he finds simple pleasure in showering. Unfortunately, he is left to his own thoughts, but for some reason, they tend to be slightly more positive during his shower idling. He moves to take the shampoo bottle into his hand, getting a glob of the substance into his palm, and he rubs it with his nails into his dark red hair.

“Oi, mate,” approaches a tall, relatively thin man with blonde hair with his rucksack over his left shoulder. The first day of P.T is over, and everyone is exhausted.

“Hey.”

“Looks loik yer in me squad, saw yous in the hydration formation earlier. Name’s Bulletpoint. Yous can call me B.P, shorter than that mess."

"Good to meet you, B.P."

"Curious I am, our squad's by the barracks, 'n you're here by yeself.”

“Just taking a load off.”

“So you say. You look like an older bloke. How old'a you, mate?

"How old do I look?

"Hmmm," Bulletpoint rubs his chin, "... twen-y two, I reckon."

"Way fucking off," Crimson chuckles. "Seventeen."

"Crikey! Seven-een? You're but a lad! With your height 'n build, that can't be right!"

"You better believe it. How old are you, gramps?"

"Nine-een, almost twen-y. Bloody 'ell, for a fackin' seven-een year old, you got a solid time on the mile, mate. You was practically flyin'! ’N whom’I havin’ the pleasure of?"

“… What?”

“What’s yer name, ye daft cunt.”

“Ah. Crimson. Crimson Sky.”

“The mile must'a stumped'cha right after ya' got done with it. You look right boggled, mate. You feelin’ alright?”

“Ah, yeah, I'm good. Just didn't get good sleep last night. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I gotta, yous me squadmate! We watch eachother's back, ya feel?”

“I feel. ... You're not from here. Why’re you serving in the states?”

“Made me way here for schooling, decided to ride the waves after bein’ here for years. States are loik me second home.”

"What country you from, B.P?"

"Ol’ B.P’s from the land down unda. Couldn’t tell?"

“Yeah, from a mile away as a matter of fact. Keep your Vegemite shit away from me.”

The blonde man chuckles and nudges Crimson’s shoulder, “Aah, you prolly had some knock-off garbage, but give it a whirl from a true-blue batch, you best find you’ll love the damn stuff.”

“I'm not convinced.”

"Hooh, wait till ya try it! Yous be beggin' me to whip ya up some more'a that!"

"... That a guarantee?"

“Bet me a twenty-four pack’a stubbies?”

The red-haired man extends his hand to Bulletpoint, and they clasp firmly, shaking on the proposition.

Crimson turns off the shower head, blocking out any further thoughts. He doesn't want to think about him anymore, as it only causes him pain to do so.

He opens the shower curtains, reaching for a towel hanging on a metal rail. He dries himself off, tosses his dirty clothes into the hamper, and steps out of the restroom. He walks towards his room with a towel around his waist, entering quietly as to not disturb his sleeping sister.

The lamp on his night stand is still on, as it is custom for him to turn it off when it’s time to sleep. He enters through the door, Viola is already lying down. She isn't sleeping yet though, as she turns herself to glance over at him when he walks inside. She's reading some sort of comic that she has to read backwards, probably an Asian comic. She wears nothing but her black and purple panties and a loose plain-white T that belongs to him. She sleeps on the side closest to the wall and window, leaving him the side closest to the door. He wakes up earlier than she does, so it would make sense he took the open-side of the bed.

He walks towards his dresser drawers and lets the towel drop from his waist, revealing his naked backside to Viola. He opens the top drawer of the dresser and scans from some underwear.

Viola sets down the manga on the window sill next to her. She smiles and snuggles herself into the thick bed sheets as she playfully admires his brother’s firm behind.

He holds his underwear in front of him, raising his legs to step into them. Once snug into his undergarments, he turns around, spotting his sister eyeing him with that tiny little smile of hers. Crimson smirks and shakes his head, walking towards the bed and laying down next to her.

“What?” Viola giggles as she asks quietly and jokingly.

“You have a habit of staring at my ass,” he states as he shuffles into a comfortable position, resting on his back to stare at the ceiling.

“You stare at mine too~”

“You do yoga and squats literally everyday. Plus, you like to walk around all day instead of you using that silly little car to deliver mail. Can you really blame me?"

“Um, it's not a silly little car,” she murmurs facetiously, "it's called a Grumman Long Life Vehicle~ Get your facts straight~"

Crimson looks away and shakes his head.

Viola snuggles into the sheets and hugs her brother, letting out a thoughtful sigh. After a moment of silence, a thought that always bugs her comes out of her mouth, "... Me staring at you doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Does staring at me make you happy?”

“… Yes,” she nods sheepishly.

“Then no, I don’t have a problem with it.”

Viola shifts herself to snuggle up to him more firmly. He reaches his arm to wrap it around her, letting her rest her head on the inner part of his shoulder. She presses her soft, warm body against his, finding nothing but joy in doing so. She can’t help but bring her left hand to his chest, gently running her index finger up and down his frame. As she does this, her happy, warm expression slowly falls to a contemplative, solemn one. “… Crimson.”

“Mm?” he asks as he stares up at the ceiling, blinking his heavy eyes.

“… You always say that.”

“… The 'make you happy’ thing?”

She nods her head.

“What about it?”

“… You always ask whether things make me happy. I want to know whether it makes you happy.”

He turns his head down to look at her, but her shadowy hair completely hides her eyes.

“I-I know that I’m… weird. I know that I’m not normal. The things I do, the things I feel… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable because of my feelings.”

“We’ve been with each other our entire lives, the things you do never bothered me. Why’re you feeling the need to say this now?”

“We're not kids anymore… if anyone found out how I felt about you…”

“Viola, who gives a shit about what other people think? Seriously, who’s been there for us when we’ve needed help? Who was there to give us a hand when our old home was foreclosed? Who was there to give you company while I was deployed? And I ain’t talking about your co-workers who try to get into your pants, I’m talking about someone who listened to you and helped you through your depression. … Who was at our mom’s funeral when she passed away?”

“… Just… Violet.”

“Exactly. Even when her and I dated, she still respected how you felt. You shouldn’t care what people unimportant to you would say. All we have is each other, and if Violet ever moves back, we’ll be even better off. Until then, as long as I’m with you, and you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Viola continues running her finger up and down his chest, her eyes stay half-lidded as she continues to ponder. She exhales softly through her nose, “… I miss Violet.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They rest with each other in silence. Sleep is dragging Crimson off very quickly, his breathing becomes quiet and paced. He has another full day of work and school tomorrow, so he finds it best to let it take him away. With any luck, his insomnia will actually let him get some sleep tonight.

Viola takes her hand away from his chest, and she reaches over to move her hair out of her face. She stares up at his sleeping front, at how terribly deprived he looks.

Her heart races as she gazes at him. She knows what she feels towards her brother is incorrect in the eyes of the world, but she can’t help herself. The only guy in her life that has been there, shown care, and never tried to take advantage of her, was her own brother. She's tried dating other people, she's tried holding herself away from these things. Every relationships she has been in ended badly.

Her first boyfriend constantly bugged her for sex, and because she wouldn't give it to him until marriage, he became abusive and dumped her.

Her second boyfriend was okay in waiting for sex, but he was overly clingy, to the point where he would literally camp outside of her home and wait for her to come out for work, or he would follow her around as she delivered mail. He hated it when someone thanked her for delivering their mail, he hated it when she talked with other boys, he hated everything that involved not him. He even hated Crimson because of how close he was to Viola, which was his biggest mistake. Viola broke off their relationship soon after he threw a tantrum about Crimson.

Her third and final boyfriend was actually fairly decent, yet simultaneously turned out to be the worst out of the three. Almost two months went by with nothing but mutual respect and openness. Their relationship was going well, but Crimson didn't seem to like the guy. It was one of the few major disagreements the siblings ever had. Still, Viola saw the best in her boyfriend.

That was, until one day, seemingly out of nowhere, Viola's boyfriend decided to drug her during a date and almost rape her, wanting to finally "claim is prize for being such a good boy." This boyfriend of hers was clinically insane, but did very well to hide it. He would have gotten away with Viola's innocence, but she was saved by her brother, were it not for his unhealthy obsession with her safety and wariness from fallouts with her past relationships.

Crimson had told her to leave her phone hidden, running a call with him on speaker during the whole date. Despite Viola's protest, she obliged, and once trouble ensued, the scumbag was met by a six-foot-seven mass of pissed off military training busting down his front door and nearly beating him to death.

After that day, Crimson was sent to court and charges were going to be pressed. Fortunately, upon having his phone company retrace the call he had with his sister, which contained all of the evidence for the drugging and intent of rape, all charges were dropped, and he was a free man again. Only then, when the ex-boyfriend was in a hospital recovering from the beating, was he diagnosed as legally insane, and shortly after, placed in a ward along with being charged as a sex offender.

Viola couldn’t remember when the feelings started for her own brother. Maybe it was on that exact day, when he was in court, giving his appeal and evidence to the judge. ... She never tried to feel this way about him... but it happened. She has these emotions now, and she doesn’t know what to do with them. She doesn't know whether he truly approves or disapproves of the way she feels, it is always cascaded behind a wall of 'if it makes you happy.' ... And it eats at her that he always answers that way... but she finds comfort in the fact that he'll never leave. Ever since they were young, he was always there. Even when he was on tour, he always wrote and called, keeping her company from miles away. And now, he's back, and he's not leaving her any time soon.

She lets her eyelids close, and she falls asleep coupled up to him.

...

Crimson’s brows twitch. He suddenly feels like he’s being crushed.

“Though you yearn for peace, it shall only be granted through trial, Arch Angel. Your parallel selves have shown to be worthy of protecting it. Come now, you waste of talent and potential, do more than just survive. You must thrive, and you must evolve. Proceed now, you need their help as much as they need yours.”

Everything is churning. The warmth coming from Viola is becoming distant, and it feels like his body is filled with popping static. It feels like he's having sleep paralysis. He tries to open his eyes, but the muscles in his eyelids aren't working. He can't move his lips, he can't speak. He can't move. He can't feel or hear anything. Everything… stops.

Viola would wake up the next morning, alone.

~ Equestria, ???, ??? ~

Slowly, his senses come back to him, as if they were returning from some sort of violently twisting vortex. His hearing returns, like if he had just punched through the surface of water. His tongue flops around his dry mouth, and his fingers gently curl to graze the textured ground under him. He can’t feel his sister next to him, the blankets that were surrounding him are gone, and the pillow that rested his head is replaced by a firm bed of grass. He grunts quietly as he reassumes control of his body.

His brain tries to recall the last thing he was doing before going to sleep… he only remembers talking to his sister. He doesn’t remember doing anything that would cause him to relocate without his consent. He knows that he drinks too much now and then, but he didn’t touch any alcohol yesterday, he couldn’t have accidentally misplaced himself.

His eyelids tremble before they pry open, and his exhausted orbs stare up at leaves, tree branches, and small chunks of the night sky unhidden by flora. After a second of his mind registering what he’s staring at, he sits up quickly and his eyes open widely. He glances at his surroundings, seeing that he’s in the heart of some forest. The dark ambiance is filled with critters of the night chirping, cooing, and rustling distant greenery. He then glances down at himself, seeing that he’s wearing only his underwear. He’s still in the same state from when he had fallen asleep, but now… he’s here, in the middle of who knows where the fuck.

Terribly agitated and confused, he rises onto his feet, but he remains low and close to the ground. He’s not convinced any of this is real, and maybe he’s just dreaming, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. He’s in uncharted territory without a compass, map, or any equipment. As any man should know, a human’s greatest downfall in the wild is their equipment, or lack thereof.

His eyes dart around quicker than before, analyzing every shrub and darkspot that potential lurkers could be hiding behind. There appears to be nothing hiding or moving about nearby, save for a few insects on the ground or flying pests. He isn’t worried about potential diseases held by mosquitoes or any other bugs, he assumes he couldn’t be too far from his homeland. It’s still nighttime, so if government agents kidnapped him and placed him out in some South American forest to rot, they couldn’t have dragged him far.

Even that assumption has major flaws to it. If it really was government agents who found and took him away, it would have been much cleaner and safer to dispatch of him while he was asleep. It probably wasn’t them, but there isn’t any other party or affiliation that could have had it out for him.

The environment he’s in also doesn’t make any sense. The trees are all shaped oddly, the colors he is registering are very unlike anything he’s ever seen. The trees almost look… blue. Adding to this, the night-time air feels warm, like if it was late spring or sometime in the summer. It’s currently winter in Texas, so the fact that it’s this warm tonight isn’t reading well in his head.

He can’t seem to connect the dots as to why he’s even here, but he wastes no time in his futile mental circuit. His eyes are turned upwards to the tall trees that surround him. Looking for leverage, he scans for the tallest tree near him, and he finds it a few meters ahead. Once he deems it safe to move, he strides with his head low, heading towards his vantage point. He stops at the base of the tree, looking up towards the top.

With a springing leap, he jumps up to clasp one of the branches closest to him that would support his weight with his right hand. He brings his left hand to grip the branch after, then he glances around for other branches.

He makes a steady pace up the length of the tree, testing branches, using his back and biceps to haul his body up. The callus in his hands shield them from the friction-heavy wood on the branches, but his body still gets marked up by stray twigs and protrusions.

The ceiling of leaves that beds the forest is surpassed, allowing him a better view of the horizon. Other trees, equally or even taller than his own, block a few parts of his field of view, but his eyes find exactly what he was looking for... shelter.

Under the moonlight, he sees a small candle-lit cottage about a klick away. It’s too shaded by trees and obscured by the dark to properly tell if there’s any movement around it, but it doesn’t appear to have anyone outside. From its odd shape and unfamiliar design, he concludes that whoever is residing in there might just be some elderly couple with an odd taste in vacation homes. Nevertheless, they might know the directions around this place, and they might be able to give him a map or something.

He looks up at the moon briefly, finding its place in the sky. It is still rising, coming up from behind the cottage. He takes his direction, orienting himself to the East, then he looks down to begin his descent from the tree.

Of course, coming down is harder than going up. Leaping up to latch onto branches and climbing is the easy part, having to fall back down safely on them is a completely different story. He takes his time, making very sure that his straight fall or gentle swinging will land him properly onto the next branch below. He lets go of a branch, falling freely for a second, to land atop of another branch with his feet.

Once his feet plant, he is quick to crouch down and hold the branch with his hands, letting his feet come off and send him into a hang. He makes it halfway down the four-story tall tree in a about a minute, but he is halted, now confronted by an issue.

A branch that he used to climb upwards before, now being the next branch below him, supported his weight as he lept up and latched onto it. It was thick and sturdy enough to handle that task… but now that he has to fall several feet down to land on top of it, it might not be able to withstand the combination of gravitational force and weight. The other branches at similar levels are much too thin to support him, and the next branch that is sturdy enough to take his weight is a dangerous drop down. The iffy branch is the only median.

He sighs at his lack of forethought, now he deals with the consequences. He doesn’t expect himself to stay in the tree forever, so if he’s gonna eat dirt, it’s going to be sooner rather than later.

With a grit of his teeth and the furrow of his brows, he swings himself forward a bit to gather the momentum needed to descend towards the branch. Then, he lets go.

Kr-krack!

“Hrh!”

Just as he expected, the branch snapped instantly upon his feet landing on it. His balance is thrown completely, and now he plummets down two stories to the dirt below. He shields his face with his arms, he falls into a multitude of branches that knock him astray or snap under his weight, slashing and smacking him around.

He lands on his back onto the forest ground with a heavy thud, knocking the wind right out of his lungs. He sits up quickly, gasping, holding his hands behind his head as he tries to recover his breath.

He drips small amounts of blood from a few of his deeper cuts along his arms and legs, but thankfully, nothing major happened to him. It was painful and aggravating, but he is still wary of the fact that it could have been much worse…

… and it does gets worse. He hears rustling in the leaves.

The violent sound of his graceless falling seems to have attracted something. His head snaps towards the direction of the sound, it’s coming from the tall bushes nearby. He quickly rises to his feet, still breathing uneasily, and he backpedals away from the noise.

A menace, boggling in size and shape, emerges from the shadows of the forest. A large creature, as tall as three men, steps out from behind its hiding. It appears to be a lion, with large webbed wings that protrude from its back, and a long, scaled stinger akin to a scorpion’s tail.

He gawks in firm and complete disbelief, it looks like some monster from a fairy tale. It slowly approaches him, with its head low to the ground and its stinger raised high into the air, moving into pouncing distance.

Just before he is smashed into the ground by the massive creature’s paws, he springs to the left, rolling along his back to get back onto his feet. The manticore shoots its hungry stare at him as he kicks into a sprint towards the East.

The manticore roars, shaking the calm of the forest night. Bats and birds rise into the air in fright when the creature dashes after the human, bashing trees and shredding vines with its massive form.

Crimson sprints on his toes as fast as he can, leaping over shrubs and side-stepping obstacles that he can’t jump over. As he runs, he spots an essential survival tool coming up. A stick. He reaches down and takes a hard, fairly long piece of fallen forestry into his right hand, holding it against his shoulder, not slowing his pace down for a moment.

Not having to dodge any terrain and simply smash through it, the manticore inevitably catches up to the panting human. It flaps its wings and leaps forward, soaring right over the man to land in front of him. Crimson’s bare feet skid on the dirt and grass as he forces himself to halt, nearly causing him to slip. He skips backwards, getting distance on the creature as he takes his make-shift staff into both hands.

The predator and the prey eye each other. The man’s face is brimming in addlement, but he still stands with his weapon held out. He mimics the manticore’s sidestepping, making sure it stays exactly in front of him at all times. The big bastard is blocking his path towards the cottage, forcing him to deal with it now. He couldn't lead it to his destination anyway, so he fixates himself for direct confrontation. Running away from this thing isn’t going to work, it has wings. It’s faster than him, and it’s going to continue chasing him down. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but he needs to make this thing go away.

The manticore rumbles deeply, squinting at its meal with anticipation. With a powerful bellow, it darts forward again. It leaps out with both front paws held out, nearly catching the human who daringly ran forward. Crimson dashes towards the creature, right under its belly, and runs out from in between its hindlegs. He quickly spins while swinging the stick to bash the side of its stomach.

It roars angrily, the impact was mildly successful at causing pain. In retaliation, it swings its stinger-tail to swat the man.

He ducks down and the scaled appendage flies right over his head. He grits his teeth and goes in for another swing, but the creature’s hindleg pistons back to bash him in the chest. The power behind the kick is enough to send him and his stick tumbling across the dirt.

He stops rolling, lying on his side and gripping his aching chest, but has no time to mope. He rises to his feet as fast as quickly as his trembling body can, just in time to jump away from the manticore’s piercing stinger. It stabs the ground where he was, coming back out of the earth with venom leaking from its end.

Crimson picks his stick back up from the ground and begins to run in a circle around the manticore, and it turns itself slowly to eye him as he does. The creature growls in anger, infuriated that its meal is forcing it to work harder than it would like to.

Crimson stops when there's enough space in between them, and holds his stick out again, preparing himself for another leap.

The manticore moves towards the human again, but instead of leaping, it flaps its wings to propel itself faster. The man doesn’t have time to leap out of this one, he opts instead for holding his stick out horizontally as he steps backwards. The manticore’s tail raises, then jolts forward towards him once the distance is closed.

With expert timing, the man is able to parry the end of the stinger as soon as it comes to him using the center of his stick. The thick branch breaks in half, but he sends the stinger down to punch the ground in between in his legs.

He has no time to admire his own insane idea that somehow worked, for the manticore’s tail near-instantly springed upwards from the earth right under him, and it flings him upwards.

Crimson flails his arms and legs as he is sent into the air, spinning in back-flips from the energy of the toss. He holds onto both jagged-broken ends of his stick as best he can, watching the world become a nauseating vertical blur. He cries sounds of dizzy panic, completely at the mercy of his fall.

The manticore waits under the man, watching him going up, then fall back down.

“Gh-hrgh!” The spinning of his world stops when a spike is railed into his right shoulder, sticking him in the middle of the air and suspending him in place.

His eyes are spinning in his head, he can’t orient himself properly to his surroundings, but he certainly feels it. The manticore stuck its stinger into him as he was coming back down, lodging it above his right pectoral. He can feel his body already warming up from the toxin.

The manticore roars at him then flings him off of its stinger, sending him into a tree. He slams onto it with his back, coughing up mixture of his own fluids. He feels his body burning, the pain of sting, and the barbs on the stinger itself, are setting an inferno off in his shoulder.

His blurring vision slowly codifies, letting him see the massive creature slowly approaching him. He still isn’t sure if this is a dream or not. Everything feels so real, the pain he feels is tangible, and it hurts like a bitch. His nerves are cooking him alive, and the warm, humid air isn’t helping. He’s not sure what he’s even doing here, he isn’t sure what he’s fighting, or why he’s even fighting it, but he knows it’s going to kill him. He's going to end up as this thing's dinner if he just keeps laying on the ground like this.

If death in this nightmare reality is fraudulent or not, he isn’t willing to find out. He fights to stand onto his feet, using the bark of the tree he was thrown at to support himself. He blinks tiredly at the large creature as it approaches him with its stinger held out.

He eyes it, how it leaks caustic liquid from its sharp barbed end…

-“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, PRIVATE!?”

“YES, DRILL SERGEANT!”

-“THEN REPEAT TO ME WHAT THE FUCK I JUST SAID.”

“YOUR ENEMY ALWAYS HAS A WEAKNESS!”

-“GOOD. SAY IT AGAIN.”

“YOUR ENEMY ALWAYS HAS A WEAKNESS!”

-“EXCELLENT, PRIVATE SKY. YOUR ENEMY. ALWAYS. HAS. A WEAKNESS. THE KEY TO SUCCESS ON THE BATTLEFIELD IS NOT ONLY DETERMINED BY YOUR OWN SKILL, OR THE EQUIPMENT YOU HAVE, OR EVEN THE AMOUNT OF MEN IN YOUR ARMY. VICTORY ON THE BATTLEFIELD IS ACHIEVED BY FINDING YOUR ENEMY’S WEAKNESS. IF YOU CAN’T FIND ONE, LOOK HARDER. IF YOU STILL CAN’T FIND ONE, LOOK HARDER. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?”

The entire Charlie platoon belts simultaneously, “HOOAH!”

… he notices the stance the manticore takes whenever it’s about to strike with its stinger.

It raises its tail up, arcing the stinger to aim it at him. The creature lowers its upper body towards the ground and raises its lower body upwards, and the muscles on the its flank tense up just before it jabs with its stinger, due to the stress on those muscles propelling the stringer so quickly. The force and imbalance of the powerful stab seems to be offset by the manticore piercing something, transferring the powerful energy, and stabilizing itself. In essence, it needs to impact something every time it stings, or it’s thrown off balance.

The barbs on its stinger also make sure it lodges itself nice and firm. The dirt was soft and coarse, it's no wonder it was able to pull out its tail so quickly and toss him up.

The man’s sleepy eyes watch the pattern happening in front of him. The manticore slowly approaches him, ready to pounce if he’d try to dodge left or right, and it lifts its stinger up. The growls in aggravation at the man’s inability to just lie down and die even after being stung and beaten around.

Crimson pants, ignoring his slowly numbing body, watching intently, gripping both shards of his broken stick.

The manticore’s upper body leans down, lifting its tail high, and its lower body rears up…

Crimson squints.

The muscles on its lower body twitch.

“Hrh!” Crimson ducks down low to the ground as quickly as possible, hearing the air above him sliced by the massive stinger. The tree behind him is bashed backwards at the force of the stab, leaves rain down from the top of the tree and shower his surroundings.

Just as he had hoped, the manticore’s tail is punched deep into the thick forest bark, lodged and stuck inside. He sees the massive, chitinous appendage just inches above him jerking around as it attempts to get free.

The man wastes no time, straining his aching body to run out from under the creature’s tail. He vaults onto it and runs along its length towards the manticore. The awkward position the manticore has doesn’t allow him to reach up and look the man as he approaches, until he is too close.

The infuriated manticore glances up with its left eye, attempting to see what the man is doing.

“GROOH!” The creature bellows in agonizing pain when the man leaps off of its tail, coming down and landing on its head, driving one of the jagged ends of his broken stick into its left eye. It squirms left and right violently, tossing the man off of its head and breaking its stinger free from the tree bark.

Crimson grunts as he hits the ground, but struggles to his feet to run back towards the writhing manticore. He dives forward and stabs the other end of his broken stick into the manticore’s hindleg, not getting it very deep, but sinking it enough to get it stuck.

The manticore cries into the night sky, entering a frenzy of movements and tail swings. As the man tries to limp away, one of these tail swings strikes him on his back, sending him forward and tumbling until he sinks into a patch of shrubs.

With no more energy to spend, he lies in the shrubs, staring up at the canopy of leaves a tree next to him creates. He hears the manticore still kicking and roaring. It if wants to kill him, it’s got the chance now, the pain and stiffness in his body is forcing him to lie there motionless.

It kind of feels good actually, like when you’re sore and exhausted from a long day of doing shit, then you go lie down on a bed, and everything just feels… good. It feels something like that right now.

He hears the manticore growling and stomping away angrily. He finds it odd, that it isn’t coming up to him and eating him. Maybe it’s too upset or in pain to try to collect its game. Maybe it doesn’t even know he is lying in the bushes. With its eye stabbed into its skull and all of that bleeding, it probably lost its orientation on him, and the shrubs he rests in are perfect cover.

Whatever the reason is, he doesn’t care to give it much more thought. … Hopefully death here doesn’t really matter, because it’s about ready to take him in.

He remains in the shrubs for a moment longer, letting his mind drift off…

“EEHaH, eehAh, EeHah, eehah!” the tall blonde man pants frivolously, slowing down the pace of his run to a shuffle.

Crimson turns around and jogs backwards, gawking at his battle-buddy. “Come on, B.P, pick up the pace.”

“EehAh, yous—” he smacks his lips and pants, “shut ye whore mouth! We’re ahead of every otha team!”

“And? We’re not racing against our platoon, we’re racing against the bullets that’ll be shot at us from the guns of our enemies,” Crimson says facetiously.

“So you say! Maybe you can outrun a fackin’ bullet, ya maniac! Ehh! I fackin’ can’t!”

“It’s all in the mind, B.P. You tell yourself you can’t, but I know you can. Unless you’re telling me you’re a quitter. Are you a quitter? Hm? Are you a little bitch, B.P? Does B.P stand for Bitch Pansy?”

“Geh, ehah!” the blonde man increases his pace, leveling out with his backpedaling comrade. “Fhh-- Fuck off, ye wanka!”

“That’s the spirit!”

“You’re worse, ehe, than the fackin, ehe, drill sergeant!”

“Only ‘cause I care about you. Never give up. Not on others, not on yourself.”

… How odd. He remembers himself saying that, but that was before reality struck him. As soon as he realized how rigged the system was, and how no one batted an eye to his suffering, it was difficult to follow his own advice.

So now, he doesn’t. But one thing’s for sure, dream or no dream, he isn’t ready to lay down yet. His stubbornness from the waking world is seemingly transferred into this dream, he rises with determination out of the shrubs. Everything hurts, it feels like he's going to throw up, he can't feel the right side of his body, but he moves anyway.

He looks at the floral bed that he was resting in. It's shaped like him, covered in his blood. He then tilts his head up, attempting to see past the leaves above him. He sees the moon overhead, slowly aiming to sit in the very center of the sky. East is…

“… That… way…” he mutters quietly, lifting his trembling index finger to point at the designated direction.

He hurls out mucus and spits onto the dirt, commencing his path towards… somewhere. … He actually doesn’t remember where he’s going, or why he was going there, he just remembers “East.” So, East it is then.

Bloodied and beaten, hair covered in leaves and twigs, stumbling along in nothing but his underwear, he treks until he loses the last ounce of consciousness he has left.

The little yellow pegasus brings the tip of her wing up to her muzzle as she lets out a quiet, prolonged yawn. She blinks her sleepy eyes with a small smile. The defeat of Discord and the festivities that followed filled her day, and now, it’s time for her to retreat to her cozy cottage. She walks home from Ponyville after her and her five friends said their goodbyes and went their separate ways for the night. She is internally overjoyed that everything turned for the better, as she and her friends endured and surpassed the conniving draconequus’ attempts to ruin their friendship and take over Equestria, returning him to his stone prison by using the Elements.

Everypony is safe, her animals can continue their cycles of life, and she will be able to live in peace.

She walks under the illumination of the candles she has hung outside in her front yard, walking up the small hill that leads to her door. As she’s is about to place her hoof on the handle to open it, she hears… something. The brief sound of rustling leaves is followed by crunching grass and some sort of breathing.

Fluttershy’s ears drop to her head, her body is already filling with fright even if she hasn't looked over yet. She slowly turns her head towards the ominous sound, unsure what sort of animal could be lurking about at this hour.

“… Huh? … Huh!” Her eyes widen in terror at what she is seeing. Some sort of tall, fleshy, two-legged, bruised and bloody monster is emitting horribly rasped breath, slowly stumbling left and right towards her home.

“Nyoh!” she cries in fear, quickly opening her door, entering, and slamming it shut behind her. She presses her back against it, breathing heavily with dilated eyes.

She hyperventilates for a while before pressing her ear onto the door, letting her hear what’s happening outside a bit more clearly. She can still hear the rasping, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.

The fearful mare falls down on all fours and she quietly moves towards one of the windows next to the door. She peeks outside, looking for the scary creature. She sees it, it’s just standing there now, right before the tiny bridge that crosses over the small river in front of her home.

It’s swaying left and right, its head is hung… it… almost looks like it’s dead, yet it’s still standing up... but it doesn't stay standing for very long.

Fluttershy gasps when the creature suddenly falls forward, landing on the bridge with its arms hanging off the sides, resting them in the water. She eyes it, how it lies motionless at the front of her home. An internal conflict quickly rises her chest, whether or not she should go out and help it.

It looks terribly sick, worn, and physically wounded. On one hoof, it seems to have passed out, so if she would go out and try to help it, it wouldn’t even be awake for it to be able to hurt her.

On the other hoof, it might be a hunting tactic, and it might get up and attack her if she got too close. Maybe that blood doesn’t belong to it, maybe all of that blood belongs to things it killed.

Fluttershy retreats from the window and sits under it, pondering deeply. She then gets up again and peeks through the window. It hasn’t moved. It’s still lying there.

“Hoooh...” Fluttershy huffs out her dilemmic state. If she’s wrong, and that blood belongs to it, it’s probably going to die soon. Her trembling eyes shift left and right, until finally, she closes them and lets out a deep sigh of courage.

She drops from the window and trots towards her door, deciding to go to its aid. She opens it cautiously, peeking her eye through the frame, seeing no movement from the creature. She opens her door completely, slowly stepping out and leaving it opened. With her head held low and her lips pursed, she steadily walks towards the bloodied animal.

She continuously eyes it as she approaches it. It still isn’t moving at all, save for the stream of water gently moving its arms. Fluttershy clears her throat quietly, gathering the fortitude to mutter, “U-Uhm… hello?”

The creature doesn’t react. Fluttershy turns her head left and right, then resting her gaze on it again. She takes in a deep breath, and with steeled nerves, she trots up to the creature. She leans her head down next theirs to listen to their breathing. It’s faint and unhealthy, but it’s most definitely still alive.

She gently places her hoof on its shoulder, shaking it very lightly. It feels hot, firm, yet oddly fleshy. It still doesn’t react to her touch. Her muzzle scrunches in trepidation and concern. The poor state this creature is in isn’t something she’s used to seeing in other animals. They would usually be dead if they looked like this.

She takes one of its arms with both of her hooves, pulling it out of the water, and she drags the creature back, off of the bridge towards clearer ground. She huffs and grunts at pulling the mass of flesh, and she accidentally loses her grip due to the blood that coats its arm. She falls backwards onto her flank with a yelp, but thankfully she got it to flat land before she slipped.

She rises and cleans her flank of the grass stuck to it, moving to the creature again. Even after being dragged a few feet, it still hasn’t reacted. It’s definitely not conscious. With a bit more assurance that she won’t be attacked, she tries to turn the creature over. She manages to roll it onto its back, face towards the sky.

Her eyes widen when she sees a gnarly, circular puncture wound on his right shoulder. Her astute eyes analyze the size and shape of it, “… A manticore sting.” Her brows furrow in realization, “You poor thing, you must have been attacked by a manticore. No wonder you look like… this.”

She hopes she’s not too late to remove the venom from his system, and daring to try anyway, she reaches her muzzle towards the puncture, pressing her lips against it. She sucks in as hard as she can, and to her surprise, globs of congealed blood pool into her mouth. She retracts her head and spits the globs with mild distaste, making sure not to ingest anything.

She wipes her mouth with her arm, seeing that blood now stains her arm. The fur along her lips has been stained with blood, giving her a rather vexatious look. She doesn’t care for the moment. She repeats the process a few more times until she finally doesn’t get congealed blood, only clean, consistent blood.

She uses the river water nearby to clean her face from looking like a bloodthirsty monster, then she stands beside the creature. “Hooh, you’re very lucky that you found me. That was a lot of venom,” her eyes glance to the copious mass of red globs she spat out, but return to the creature. “… What… are you?”

Her eyes trail along its body, stopping at its face. Her brows furrow when she looks at his front. She has never seen such a thing before, but for some reason, the energy that his face gives off feels… masculine. Strong, yet exhausted and beaten. Something about the structure, composition, the placement of his mouth and eyes, the shape of its, what she assumes is, his nose… it looks manly. Using this assumption, her eyes scan along his body downwards to his…

She looks away quickly, feeling her face heating up. The strange cloth that surrounds his waist hides a protruding mass at the very middle. “D-Definitely male…” Her mind doesn’t seem to realize the trepidation she feels at this creature’s body, even though she is unfamiliar with its design. Something about it makes her feel anxiousness…

Her burred thoughts are only a flash. Her brain prods her to realize that this creature is dying. She needs to take care of him, not play anatomist. She retakes his arm with her hooves, restarting her struggle to pull him to safety. She gives everything her small body has to offer, trying her best to get him up the hill to her front door as quickly as possible.

Eventually, with numerous faults and slips, she succeeds in getting him inside. She rests him on the wooden floor in the middle of her living room, leaving him resting on his back. She trots upstairs towards her bathroom, retrieving a few essentials before coming back down. She uses a sponge with water in a bowl to clean up the drying blood and sweat from his body.

Her eyes avoid looking towards the only article of clothing the creature has on. Fortunately, it isn’t torn or ripped in any way, so damage to that area most likely didn’t occur.

She then uses an alcohol rag to disinfect some of the bigger wounds and cuts along his body. She then uses a roll of fiber cloth to patch up his body. Her tying and rolling is very graceful, her knowledge of tourniquets comes from first-hoof experience dealing with her own bodily damage, due to working with so many animals. After she is done cleaning him, and being too tired to set him onto something more comfortable like the couch, she decides to bring the comfort to him. She brings pillows and a futon from her room upstairs, resting them under him so he doesn’t lie on the hard wooden floor.

After he is situated and appears to be resting comfortably, she sits on the ground next to him, in the silence of the night. Only one candle is lit inside of her home, the one next to the staircase, it’s enough to keep the place navigable, but dark enough to let this creature rest in darkness.

Her eyes are softly lidded and relaxed, finding a sense of easiness next to his unconscious form. In this state, he looks harmless… emotional even. His face gives off this feeling of inexplicable gloom, of deeply-ingrained sadness.

Whatever he is, it’s definitely not anything like she’s used to seeing. Bears, deer, bunnies, birds, turtles… no animal in the wild has given her the feelings she is currently experiencing. It almost feels as if she’s taking care of another pony.

Aside from the odd emotions indirectly conveyed, much of her confusion comes from the very existence of him. Even after spending most of her life surrounded by nature, this is the first time ever encountering… this. Out of all of the books she has read and the places she has been, not once did a creature like this ever appear.

She internally debates what her next step should be. Should she talk to Twilight about it? Should she take care of it quietly and then release it back into the wild? Maybe it’s severely wounded, and she has to foster it from now on...

Deep down inside, she dreads the moment when the creature wakes up. She isn’t sure what to expect, whether this thing can understand her or communicate in any way, but she certainly has many questions.

She silences them for now, letting go a sleepy yawn and gently tapping her muzzle with her hoof. She’s so tired now, the task of keeping her eyes open is becoming increasingly difficult.

She rises onto her fours and walks tiredly towards her couch. She climbs onto it, resting on her side, facing the door and the sleeping creature. Her head falls onto the couch pillow, and thanks to the summer warmth, she doesn’t need a blanket.

Surrounded by the sounds of the night playing through her opened windows, she watches him, blinking her eyes slower and slower, until at some point, they remain closed.

Morning sunlight shines through the living room window, blanketing Fluttershy’s form as she rests on the couch. Her eyelids tremble as she wakes, followed by slow, sluggish shuffling as she extends her legs out and arches her back, moaning gently through her nose. Her eyes blink open, directing to the middle of the living room.

“Huh!” her eyes widen and she gasps, sitting up quickly. She sees her little white bunny, Angel, standing right next to the human still sleeping on the ground. Angel is examining the unfamiliar creature, hopping around it and viewing it from different angles.

“A-Angel!” she calls in a whisper, worried at the proximity he is at.

The bunny turns his unenthused face to the yellow mare, raising his left brow. He points twice at the sleeping creature, then he shrugs his shoulders with a face that says, ‘what the heck is this?’

“Uhm…” Fluttershy glances between them both, “I’m… not sure what he is, Angel. But he was hurt last night, and I couldn’t just leave him in such poor condition.”

The bunny hops towards her, leaping up onto the couch. Angel stares up at her and crosses his arms angrily, he now knows the source of why Fluttershy had woken up so late. She had spent so much time tending to the human that she forced herself to sleep much later than usual, and her waking up so late caused him to be hungry for a few hours.

The mare reaches over and gently caresses his ears backwards, “Has… has he woken up at all?” Angel shakes his head, but he then slaps his own belly and begins to stomp his right hindleg repeatedly on the couch cushion, since apparently she doesn’t understand what time it is.

Fluttershy’s ears perk up in realization. She turns her head to glance at the clock on the wall, seeing that hands point to 11:45. “Hoh! I’m so sorry, Angel! I woke up so late!” she apologizes as she spreads her wings and hovers off the couch, moving towards the kitchen. She acquires a bowl and fills it with mixed veggies, bringing it back out for him. She sets it on the ground next to the couch, a decent distance away from the human.

With an annoyed face, Angel leaps off the couch and lands next to the bowl. He begins scarfing down his late breakfast like a machine.

As Angel eats, Fluttershy has her eyes resting on the man. He lies on the ground, unmoved and unchanged. He didn’t make a single sound all night, he didn’t even shuffle in his sleep. Fluttershy cautiously moves towards him, keeping her head low. She stands above him, staring down at his face. He’s still breathing, thankfully. It’s unnaturally quiet, but the rising and falling of his chest indicates that oxygen is entering his body.

Fluttershy hears foot-stomping behind her again, coming from the impatient little bunny who has already finished his bowl. She looks over to him, “Are you still hungry, Angel?” The demanding bunny nods. Fluttershy glances at the kitchen, then back to him, “We’re out of greens, I-I’ll have to get more from the market. Would you like some corn grains for the mean time?” The bunny shakes his head repeatedly, stomping his foot harder. Fluttershy walks over to the saddlebags she has resting on the ground near the door and she gets them around her waist, strapping them on firmly. “I’ll be back soon, okay, Angel? I’m sorry that I have to make you wait for your food…”

The bunny turns his head dismissively and huffs. Fluttershy glances down at the man one more time, feeling anxiousness building in her chest. She doesn’t know if he’s going to be asleep for much longer. She deeply hopes that he doesn’t wake up while she’s gone. She fears for Angel’s safety, if it happens to be that this creature is aggressive or territorial.

With a sigh, she heads for the door, “Be safe, Angel.”

She subconsciously trots faster than she usually does. While not in the forefront of her mind, she is hurrying herself up in order to return home quicker. She thinks about all of things she needs to get, such as lettuce, cucumbers, carrots, rice, and all sorts of other fruits and veggies. She takes the dirt trail from her home to Ponyville, heading towards the market square. Her entire daily schedule is thrown out of balance, as she would usually be tending to the animals that surround her home at this time, and Angel would already have a full belly. With all of her responsibilities, her mind is failing to track one thing at a time, only serving to stress and burden her more.

The warmth of noon takes the air, residents of Ponyville all trot along their merry way. Resting smiles and high spirits give the small town more coziness, everyone is happy to be rid of the chaotic nightmare that was ruining the days prior. Fluttershy keeps her pace as she passes by stands and stalls that house all sorts of products. She makes sure not to bump into anyone, and she repeatedly apologizes for accidentally getting in other ponies’ way.

She approaches her usual produce stalls, finding some unfamiliar ponies tending to them today. Her eyes scan the assortments of fruits and veggies on display.

“Afternoon, miss Fluttershy,” a stallion behind the veggie stall calls with a smile.

Fluttershy timidly waves her hoof to him.

“Fluttershy! Hello!” a mare at the fruit stand next to the veggie stand smiles.

She gives her the same exact wave she gave to the stallion. She still isn’t used to being ‘famous.’ Even if Ponyville is a tight-knit community, and most ponies know each other, it still makes her uneasy that literally everyone knows her name now.

Ever since she became friends with Twilight Sparkle not too long ago, she has had to undertake very extraordinary endeavors, two of these endeavors dealt with the very fate of Equestria. She and her other five friends had overcome Nightmare Moon when she had returned. Not long after, Discord, somehow released from his prison of stone, caused terrible chaos, ruining the lives of Ponyville’s denizens. He, like Nightmare Moon, was subdued by the Elements of Harmony, powerful relics that take the form of accessories.

Fluttershy’s body is moving autonomously. As her mind thinks away at the creature that lies in her home, she is taking produce and putting it in her saddlebags. She then takes out her bit purse, giving the appropriate payment for both stallion and the mare, then excusing herself. She turns around and trots back to—

“Ick!” “Ow!”

Fluttershy accidentally bumps her muzzle against another pony’s. She closes her eyes and rubs her nose, “I-I’m so, so sorry, I’m so very sorry!”

Instead of a receiving a scolding or an apology for the accident, she hears a familiar giggle. Her eyes open, seeing a purple unicorn rubbing her muzzle as well.

“It’s okay, Fluttershy. It was my fault for standing so close. I was actually going to call your name, but you turned around before I could.”

“Oh, Twilight,” Fluttershy smiles wryly, “please don’t apologize. I-I should have been more careful.”

The purple unicorn smiles back, using her magic to levitate a few greens and fruits that fell out of Fluttershy’s bags back in. “I know how that goes. I'm so easily distracted, I bump into ponies all the time. It was bound to come back to me at some point. Are you buying groceries for your animals?”

Fluttershy nods, “I-I’ve been needing to restock for a while now. … What brings you to the market?”

“Oh, no, I’m just passing through. I’m headed to Quills and Sofas. There’s still so much I need to write to Celestia about, it feels like I never have enough to write with. Spike’s a testament to that.”

“Oh, I'm sure," she nods happily. "If you don’t mind me asking, what are you writing to Celestia about?”

“I don't mind at all! You see, with the whole Discord fiasco, there’s a few odds and ends that I’m still looking into. I know he was turned back to stone by the Elements, but I still have doubts.”

“Doubts?” Fluttershy tilts her head. She notices a few stray eyes and ears listening in on their conversation as they pass by.

“Indeed. It’s just that, who’s to say his magic didn’t have lingering effects on Equestria? What if something he caused is still lurking in the shadows? Anything and everything that could possibly be associated with his magic needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. We don’t want to run the risk of Discord breaking out of his prison again.” Twilight raises her brows quizzically, “You haven’t seen anything odd or strange lately, have you?”

Fluttershy‘s ears fall to her head and her eyes dilate. They shift left and right, giving her a very guilty look. She fails to respond to the question asked.

“… Fluttershy?” Twilight leans in a bit closer, tilting her head at her.

“U-Uhm, I…”

“… Is there something you want to talk about?”

Fluttershy debates against herself, tossing ifs and buts in her head at a million miles per second. “… I-I, um… h-have a question.”

“And I’ve got answers!” Twilight smiles.

“… W-What kind of lingering effects could be associated with Discord’s magic?”

“A plethora of things. Dancing chairs, a twisting lamp, singing rocks. Beyond corruption of physical objects, he could also displace things. Maybe a table is melded into a tree, or a door that doesn’t lead to anything is randomly sitting somewhere. It could even be animals, he could have teleported a creature from somewhere else that doesn’t belong to their newly-placed region, and that could cause problems with the ecosystem. It could cause danger to Equestria even.”

Fluttershy’s eyes dilate further. “Um… H… How would we deal with his magic if it we found it?”

“Have you found any sort of chaos magic?”

“I—” she freezes momentarily. “… N-No, I was… just curious. I-I would want to know what would happen if I did, h-hypothetically speaking.”

“Oh, well, we can use the Elements to purge whatever it is that still remains. That is the most secure way. I know the Elements effectively reset all of Discord's chaos magic, and it isn't that I'm doubting their ability, but chaos magic is unpredictable, and it’s a field I know very little about. I would want to find out more, but I’m almost certain Discord is the only being with extensive knowledge on it, and I’m definitely not willing to release him again just to have a Q and A.”

“… Purge?”

Twilight nods, “Mhm, purge.”

“… Like… destroy purge?”

“I do believe they are synonymous in this case, yes.” … Twilight’s eyes soften as she stares at her friend with mild concern. “Fluttershy, you look like I do when I have a test coming up. Is there something wrong?”

“…” the timid mare hides behind her mane.

“… Fluttershy, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. If you want to tell me something in private, I’ll always listen. I won’t judge you either.”

“I…” her one open eye glances at the ground, then at Twilight. “I-I don’t mean to be rude but I have to go feed Angel! Sorry, Twilight, he’s waiting for me to get home, a-and I get anxious when he has to wait on me, and I—I—” she fails to come up with further lies, now only stammering incoherently.

Twilight’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as her friend fumbles her words terribly. With a giggle, she waves her hoof dismissively, “Oh, Fluttershy, you could have said that from the beginning. I didn’t mean to keep you from your daily doings, I understand completely that you have things to do, especially after several days of dealing with Discord. Tell Angel Bunny that it’s all my fault that you took so long.”

Fluttershy’s timid self nods repeatedly, apologizing again, and trotting off with haste towards her cottage.

With mild worry, Twilight watches her friend as she runs off. She scratches her head, turning around and continuing her way to purchase writing tools.

Fluttershy’s chest weighs several tons, she feels the overbearing guilt of having just lied to a pony that trusts her very dearly. It wasn’t exactly a blatant lie, since she really does need to feed Angel, but that isn’t the reason why she was getting so anxious. She puckers her lips, speeding up her trot to try and run off some of the guilt.

Once she makes it home, she quickly opens the door and stands with ogling eyes. Angel, surprised at her sudden entry, is standing next to the human again. “Anything yet, Angel?” she asks with paced breathing. The bunny shakes his head, giving her a rather incredulous look.

The mare eyes the sleeping creature for a moment, sighing out some stress, then heading off to prepare another bowl for Angel. She sets her saddlebags down in her kitchen, setting out all of the purchased produce. She quickly prepares the assortment, moving back out and placing the bowl down in the same place as before.

Angel emits a sound of displeasure at the distance his food was placed. He crosses his arms and remains in place, wanting his food brought directly to him.

“Angel, p-please come and eat your food here! It’s for your safety! What if he wakes up and tries to hurt you? I don’t want anything bad happening to you!”

Angel shakes his head, stomping his foot right next to the human’s right hand.

Fluttershy’s body quakes at how close he was to hitting his hand. In submission, she quickly picks up the bowl and places it next to him, putting her hooves to her mouth as she watches him crunch and snack on loud greens right next to the sleeping man. Each crunch of his fast-moving mouth sends a tiny spark of anxiety through her body. It’s like Angel’s crunching is getting louder, more booming, and more violent.

“Buurp!” Angel emits a wicked, graceless belch. He’s already done with his food, and with a scratch to the back of his ear, he hops off unenthusiastically to the front door’s pet shoot.

The quivering mare sees that the creature is still asleep, reactionless to Angel's previous disturbance. She sighs in relief, looking over to the clock on her living room wall, reading the time again. “Four o’ three,” she whispers, looking back at the human. “… He’s… probably just really tired. No need to worry, Fluttershy. He’s going to be okay.” She looks back towards the clock, puckering her lips in dissatisfaction at how late it is already. She wasted her whole morning sleeping, and there’s a hundred things her mind is currently forgetting.

Now that she realizes that she’s forgetting things, she tries to recall everything she should try and get done before the day is over. Not a whole lot comes to mind, except just checking to see if the chickens have food, and maybe rake some leaves outside. Oh, and visit the spa with Rarity.

“… Visit the spa with… Rarity,” she whispers to herself. “Oh, right! I was supposed to meet Rarity—” she glances at the clock, seeing it read just-past six, “—for a spa day... an hour ago." She huffs at her own irresponsibility, "... Hooh, Rarity..."

Knock-knock-knock

Her head snaps towards her door, eyeballing it in terror. Out of any time for anyone to be knocking, this is the worst.

“Fluttershy, are you home, darling?”

She gasps quietly, covering her mouth with her hooves. Just as she was thinking about her, Rarity is calling from outside.

Rarity stares at the door, waiting for a response. After she doesn’t get one, she taps her hoof on it again, “Fluttershy, are you in there? I ran into Twilight at the market and she said you were home. Are you feeling alright?”

The yellow pegasus throws her mind everywhere as she attempts to find a way out.

Rarity knocks again, but is surprised to hear the door lock. She pouts her lips and raises her left brow in confusion, then hearing Fluttershy’s voice call from the other side.

“R-Rarity, is that you?”

“Yes, dear, it is I. Would you please come to the door?”

“I can’t!”

“… You can’t?”

“I-I’m feeling under the weather, a-and I don’t want to get you sick! I-I don’t think I can go to the spa today!”

“Oh goodness, you’re ill? … Well, Twilight did say you were acting rather strange. It is quite alright, Fluttershy! Do stay home and rest!”

“I’m so sorry, Rarity, could we please reschedule our spa day?”

“Hoh, I’m afraid not, darling. I’m terribly busy for the rest of the week. But please do not feel guilty, I understand completely! I’d rather you stay home and feel better.”

“… Ooooh,” Fluttershy’s head hangs low in immense guilt.

The white unicorn hears her distressed emission, mistaking it for a bed-ridden moan. “Are you okay in there, Fluttershy? Are you sure you do not need any assistance?”

“N-No, no! It’s okay! P-Please enjoy the spa, Rarity, I’ll make it up to you!”

“Nonsense, darling! There is no need to make anything up to anypony. Please get well soon!”

Fluttershy hears the dirt-dampened steps of her friend move off into the distance. She stands in the middle of living room, right next to the human, feeling absolutely harrowed at herself.

She doesn’t know why she isn’t telling her friends, they might be understanding and empathetic to this creature. … But she remembers what Twilight said. If his existence was caused by chaos magic, there’s no telling what will happen to him. Twilight might use the Elements to purge him, destroy him. If Discord's magic had anything to do with this, this creature maybe be a danger once it wakes up.

… But that’s what irks her. He hasn’t even had the chance to wake up yet. She can’t jump to conclusions and say that he’s evil just because he exists or because magic might have brought him here. She wants to know she isn’t putting a harmless creature in danger because of superstition. By the look of his resting face, it’s hard to tell if he’s going to wake up soon. She still has so many questions about it, its origin, its method of communication, and… that odd cloth around his waist.

That’s the part that makes her the most confused. As much as she tries not to focus on that part of his body, the fact that he has some article of clothing being worn brings to assumption numerous things.

Her mind trails off, she sits in the living room next to the creature in silence.

By the time she is aware of herself, aware of the fact that she’s just sitting there doing nothing but thinking, the sun has moved across the sky. She glances her blinking eyes towards the clock again. 6:55. The day is slowly coming to an end, and she accomplished absolutely nothing. Her mind and her heart still feel the weight of being untruthful with her friends, but there’s nothing she can do about it right now.

She rises up, popping a few bones in her body with a sigh. She slowly walks off to the kitchen, exiting her home through the back door. With a wary glance to the left and right, she steps out into the evening, hoping to at least get a few chores done before wrapping up her day.

Once the sun has set and the moon begins to rise, Fluttershy walks back into her cottage. She walks through the kitchen and steps into the living room, looking down at the still-sleeping creature. He still hasn’t moved, he still hasn’t made a sound. Fluttershy lets her eyes drop to the ground, she heads upstairs to get herself cleaned up and ready for bed.

After a shower and a towel around her mane, she steps out of her restroom. She debates sleeping in her bed or on the couch again. She moves towards the top of the staircase, peering down towards the creature. … Still nothing. It doesn't seem like he's going to wake tonight. He might be asleep for a bit longer if he’s in some sort of temporary, toxin-induced coma.

She decides to turn around and sleep on her comfy bed tonight. She walks to her bedroom, taking off the towel that was drying her hair, splaying it out properly on a rack, then she climbs into bed. The uneasiness of the day’s events are still fresh in her mind, making falling asleep a little more challenging than usual. She snuggles under her bedsheets, thinking as she stares at the ceiling.

“Oi, wakie wakie,” Bulletpoint pushes his shoulder. “C’mon, seriously, Drill Sarge’s gonna dine on our asses if he catches you.”

“Hmrh…”

“Crimson, I’m gettin’ the ice water if you don’t get up.”

“…”

“Looks like your battlebuddy’s got a case of the lazyass, B.P,” calls Mess, another platoon member who’s still getting ready for the morning.

“Only one way to solve that, ey?” the blonde man smirks.

“Piss off…” Crimson mumbles as he turns around, giving his back to them.

“No can do, mate. Not my fault ya’ spent all night walkin’ around the barracks like a fackin’ schizo. You ain’t getting’ up?”

The red-haired man remains silent. Bulletpoint shrugs with a cheeky smile. He walks off towards the sinks.

“Man, Crimson,” Mess snickers, “you’ve got some balls to just lay there. I know it’s the first week, and getting used to this shit sucks, but I don’t think sleeping in is an option in the Army. … And uh, I highly advise getting up. Like, now.”

“Hrh…”

Mess crosses his arms, waiting for the inevitable, “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya’.”

“Gyugh!” Crimson sits up quickly, sucking in a deep breath. He feels the shivering cold of the water Bulletpoint had finished dunking onto him. He gawks angrily at the blonde man… to which… he can’t find anywhere. “… Whuh?” he glances around in confusion.

This isn’t his barracks. Bulletpoint or Mess aren’t around. He’s not wet, the ice-cold water that shivered his body wasn’t even real.

After realization sets in that it was only another one of those dreams, he lets out a sigh, which is followed by a grunt and a cough. He rubs his neck, feeling how terribly dry his throat is. The pit in his stomach also tells him that he’s damn-near starving. The aches and pains of his body flood his nerves, tossing him into much discomfort. He turns his head around slowly and carefully, looking down at himself.

He sees that he’s been bandaged up and cared for, but the bandages are getting bloody and old, needing to be replaced. The slashes and punctures on his body have been cleaned and tended to, but they still burn like hell. He can’t remember much of anything, except for… the giant creature. He remembers that lion scorpion thing, and with that recollection, more things fall into place. He can’t remember what happened after he got stung, but he does recall what happened before.

He glances around at his surroundings, finding that he still isn’t home. The moonlight gleaming through the window, in what appears to be this living room, indicates that it’s still night time. But it couldn’t still be night, there’s no way everything that happened following him waking up here occurred in only one night.

The severe dryness of his throat and the bellow in his stomach also give away that he’s been out for more than one night, he probably just-so-happened to wake up during another day's moonrise. He doesn’t know where he is, or who’s abode this is, but he assumes it must be that home he saw before encountering the lion-scorpion.

The thirst is terribly uncomfortable, and the hunger stings at his insides. There’s no time to find the owner and ask politely, survival comes before pleasantries.

He leans forward, using his hands and knees to get up off the ground. He grits his teeth in pain, feeling his whole body protest even the slightest movements. He rises onto his feet, hunched over, holding onto his right side with his left hand. After a quick look around, the kitchen appears to be the next room over. He limps towards it, huffing quietly in his physical toil. His feet drag lazily across the clean wooden floor, it doesn’t creak a single bit under his weight.

He examines the interior of the kitchen, finding the fridge located directly to his right. Next to it is the sink, and a countertop next to that. There’s an island in the middle of the kitchen that sits a bunch of fruits and veggies, all splayed out from some sort of green double-bag thing with some pink butterflies stitched onto the faces. There’s a lonely table on the left side of the kitchen, which only has two chairs on it.

He skims through the details, returning his eyes to the sink and stumbling towards it with haste.

He turns on the oddly short sink, resting on an oddly low countertop, and cold water begins to flow through the tap. He leans down quite a ways to reach the tap and he begins to chug copious amounts of fluid, and the sensation of the itch in his throat finally being scratched sends bliss into his system. He packs himself with water until he finds it no longer necessary, retracting his head and shutting the faucet.

He sighs in satisfaction, but it’s interrupted by a gut-stinging cough. He nearly throws up the large amounts of water he drank before he clears his throat and wipes his mouth. His eyes now direct to the fruits and vegetables sitting on the island. A big juicy green apple lies proudly among the rest of the produce, beckoning him to consume it. He limps to the island, leaning down to rest his hands on the edge of it. He glances at the rest of the choices he has, including bananas, celery, oranges, pears, potatoes, and a few other things, but that apple…

He wants that apple. He lifts his right hand to it, grasping it firmly and bringing it to his mouth, and with an audible crunch, he takes a chunk into his mouth. “Hmh…” his eyelids fall. The taste, the juiciness, the perfect amount of age. It’s orgasmic. This has to be the best fucking apple he’s ever eaten. There’s literally no competition. This apple has to be outlawed or something, a fruit this simple shouldn’t taste this good. It’s going to run five-star restaurants out of business.

He bites down another large chunk, already knocking out half of the apple. It’s big enough to settle his appetite for a bit, but this definitely won’t constitute as a meal. His eyes reopen as he continues to chew, examining his surroundings with a bit more mental clarity. He found it odd how low the sink was to the ground, same with this island that he’s leaning on. He knows he’s taller than the average man, but these furnishings are kind of ridiculous. The table off to the other end of the kitchen may as well be for third graders. He shifts his eyes towards the living room, biting down three times back-to-back on the apple to finish it up. He tosses the core into a tiny garbage bin next to the island, and he limps towards the living room.

He didn’t notice any of it because of how awful he felt, but now that he looks at it, it’s very hard to miss. Everything is just… small. Not tiny-tiny, but small. This home on its own is decently spaced out and the ceiling isn’t very low, but the furnishings don’t keep up. The couch is well-made and it looks comfortable, but it could barely fit two full-sized humans. The single-cushion couch would be uncomfortable to sit in in-general. The coffee table would probably break if he sat on it. There’s a comically small fireplace to the right side, donning pots and pans hanging from the neck. There’s also an odd number of cages and bird houses around, but none of them are populated. Considering this is some sort of nature-home, he supposes that having these types of decorations aren’t too out-of-place.

Then, that staircase to the left of the room is a bit narrow, and the steps are very frequent and badly spaced out, one would have to skip a step or two to comfortably ascend or descend.

Stairs. Now that he thinks of it, whoever owns this place isn’t downstairs. He’s not sure if they’re upstairs, or maybe they’re not even home right now, but he figures he’ll find out. He drags his feet, moving towards the staircase. He grunts as he takes each step, climbing to the top and entering a hallway which he has to duck his head a bit not to hit the ceiling. He sees a bathroom close to his left, with small appliances inside. There’s another door on his left, to the far end, but it’s closed. There’s one door on his right, located in the middle space of the adjacent doors. It’s opened slightly, leaving room to peer inside.

With the mentally-ingrained tendency not to leave anything unchecked, he pushes aside the privacy of the owners of this home and proceeds to check the room. He limps as quiet as he can, stifling his grunting as he puts his left eye to the opening of the door.

Inside, he sees some sort of bedroom. It’s spacious, with many different paintings on the walls. There’s another chimney, a nightstand, and bed. He keeps his eyes on the bed, seeing if anyone is sleeping on there. … It… doesn’t look like anyone’s in the bed. The bed is unmade, pillows and blankets surround some sort of pink hairy thing. Probably some sort of stuffed animal, but he can’t be too sure.

He opens the door all the way, limping inside cautiously. He glances at the empty bird houses that hang from the ceiling, then he returns his gaze to the bed. No body or legs to be found under the bedsheets, just that weird pink hairy thing. He continues his pace until he closes in on the bed, looming next to it. He tilts his head to the side, peering over the pink mass of hair.

“… What the fuck?” he whispers unintentionally in his stupor. As it turns out, something IS sleeping on the bed, but it isn’t any man or woman. It’s… some sort of real animal, not a stuffed one.

It’s breathing softly and its eyes are closed. The pink he mistook for some sort of plush belongs to this creature, as it appears to be its hair. He scrutinizes this… thing. It’s nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s oddly shaped and small. Its physical appearance is akin to a horse, but it lacks a lot of qualities a horse does. It doesn’t have a long face or a burly body. But what it does have is large ears, pastel-colored fur and hair, and… eyelashes. Long, elegantly flowing eyelashes. Something about this creature tells him that it’s a female, but since he’s never seen this thing before, nothing’s a guarantee.

He sees that this creature is sleeping on one side of the bed, leaving the other half opened. There’s decent space left, enough for a woman or something. Perhaps this little… horse thing… belongs to someone. Their owner must be out, running some errands or something.

He can’t stop staring at this little creature. It’s so odd looking, it almost doesn’t seem real. Its muzzle is so tiny, its nostrils gently inhale and exhale as it sleeps. Whatever race or type of animal this is, it’s… definitely interesting. Probably very expensive and rare.

As he would a dog or a cat, he reaches out and gently touches its pink hair, running his fingers along its length. It’s long and well-maintained, it shimmers quite beautifully under the light of the moon. He then reaches his hand to run the back of his index finger along its cheek. This pet must be mighty difficult to maintain, with all of this hair and how fine its coat is. … Just the sight of this little creature is kind of therapeutic. His thoughts don't seem to find anything bad to reminisce about as he interacts with this little horse.

His brows raise slightly as the small animal emits some sort of moan and shuffles slightly. It appears to be waking up, gracefully at that. It seems to enjoy the gentle touch of his hand, it leans a little closer to the caressing. He sees that its eyes blink open… and wow, they are beautiful. They are incredibly beautiful. To what he presumes is a her, her irises are a blue-ish green, they refract so much light, and they're amazingly reflective. He can almost see himself in them.

…

“Huh!?” the horse suddenly emits, and its eyes turn into grains of sand.

“Hn?” Crimson sounds, furrowing his brows. … Did she just say… ‘huh’? The little horse is frozen in… fear? She looks terrified.

He slowly retracts his hand away from it, and it… it’s hyperventilating now. He shifts his eyes awkwardly left and right, unsure of what it is doing. It’s just staring up at him, unmoving.

Crimson clears his froggy throat, readying to speak. “Hey there. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m a friend. Friend,” he points to himself. The little yellow horse appears to startle terribly upon hearing his voice, appearing even more horrified. “Friend,” Crimson repeats softly, slowly extending his hand towards her. She watches his hand approach her, it lands on her head, gently scratching the top of her scalp.

Her eyes blink in disbelief at what is happening. Her brain is frying with fright and disconcert. For some reason, her mouth autonomously repeats the last thing she heard, “f-f-friend?”

…

… The scratching stops. His hand stops moving. His furrowed brows twitch. “… Friend?”

The little yellow mare nods trepidly after a moment of silence.

“Hoh, what the fuck!?” Crimson retracts backwards and gawks at the little creature with dilated eyes, grunting in pain at his own sudden jolt of movement burns his wounds.

“Ghyo!” Fluttershy hides behind her blankets in fear, shielding herself from the tall creature.

“You can talk!?”

The cowering pony does nothing but emit a sound of fear as she quakes under the sheets. He stares at the lump she creates under the cloth. He stares at how she, how she from the sound of her voice, hides in panic. The sound of her voice? The concept alone is confusing him to no end.

But upon connecting the dots, it does make sense. The small furniture and the oddly constructed home. This… horse thing… it…

“… Hey,” Crimson calls softly. “You can understand me, right? … I ain’t gonna hurt you. You, uh… you… own this place?”

“Yes!” she calls in high-pitched fear.

His head cocks back at her response, still taken aback at the fact that this animal is speaking. “You, uh… you have a name?”

… The little mass under the sheets stops quivering. She remains motionless for a second before she peeks her head from under the blankets. Only her eyes appear into view, shimmering and afraid. She gawks at the tall creature; her mind is slow to push aside her trepidation while trying to replace it with cognition.

“… F-Fluttershy,” she whispers before ducking her head behind the sheets.

“… Sorry, can you run that by me again?”

Her eyes pop back up from behind the sheets, “Fluttershy!”

“Futtershine?”

“F-Fluttershy!” she calls, bringing her mouth out from behind the sheets. She then retracts again, staring at him with her beautiful orbs.

“Fluttershy,” he repeats while bringing his left hand back to his right side, gripping his burning abdomen.

She nods twice.

“Nrh… nice to meet you… Fluttershy,” he grips his side tighter.

She shifts her eyes away, hiding the reddening of her cheeks. After a moment, she turns her eyes back to him, slowly gathering her confidence. “Wh-… What’s your name?”

“… Crimson Sky,” he replies with a grunt.

Fluttershy slowly lets the sheets down from her face, revealing her entire front. She sees that he’s still hurting, and her empathetic, caring side begins to take over. “Y-You shouldn't be standing up like that, mister Sky.”

“Just… Crimson. No need for that mister shit,” he grumbles with a wince. That sudden jolt of movement when he got startled earlier is biting him back now. Something inside is really starting to hurt.

“Cr--, hn, Cr--Crimson," she fumbles his name accidentally, registering it into her vernacular, "please, sit down, you shouldn’t be up like this, you’re still really hurt! H-Here…” she throws the covers off herself, shifting to the side, and leaving plenty of space for him. Her lower body is revealed, showing her to have...

“Hnh?” Crimson squints. Fluttershy stops, her eyes widen a little. A bit of fear returns into her at his sudden emission. “… Wings?” he utters.

She blinks in confusion. She turns her head to look at herself, extending her feathered appendages to her sides. Her eyebrows furrow when she realizes what he means, and she glances back at him. Too worried about his health to explain anything, she flaps her wings to hover off the ground, over towards him. Since he isn’t abiding to her request to sit, she’ll hope to help him. She gets to eyelevel with him, and they stare at each other closely. Fluttershy swallows a lump of fear in her throat, slowly extending her forehooves out, putting them on his shoulders.

He winces slightly, feeling her gently push him towards the bed. He steps backwards until his legs touch the side of the bed, causing him to sit down. He stifles a grunt, staring down at the wood floor.

The timid mare finds discomfort in his expression, at how critical and angry it looks. She recalls the soft, emotional face when he was asleep, it completely contrasts his face now. … He looked so calm and peaceful then, but now he looks about ready to kill someone.

“… So, you’re the one who patched me up?” the man calls, breaking the silence.

Fluttershy turns her eyes away when his shift to her. She can’t find the composure inside of her to stare into his eyes without squirming in fear, something about them drives distress into her core. “Y… Yes. You… arrived at my cottage two nights ago. You looked… terrible. I didn’t think you were going to make it, but… I-I’m glad you did.”

“… Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have if you didn’t help me out. Thanks, uh… Fluttershy.” He scrutinizes her form as she hovers in the air, her wings flapping emit a sound that shouldn’t ever be coming from an equine. “Are you some sort of… talking flying horse?”

She furrows her brows mildly, unprepared for such a question. “P-Pony. I’m a… pony. Everypony is able to talk.”

“… You’re saying there’s more of you?”

Fluttershy gives him a wary stare, taken aback by his unsightly ignorance. She nods slowly. “… I-If you don’t mind me asking… what are you?”

Crimson’s face hardens. “… I’m a human. Haven’t you ever seen a human before?”

The yellow mare shakes her head.

“… What the hell,” he whispers to himself, rubbing his forehead.

“I-I’m sorry that I haven’t heard about you, p-please don’t take it the wrong way! I-I didn’t do it intentionally!”

“… It’s not that,” his eyes raise up to her for a moment, but fall back down, “you’re talking. Fluent English, no less.”

The little mare tilts her head with addlement.

“This can’t be real. You’re probably just a figment of my imagination.”

“… Huh?”

“There’s no way you could exist. You can talk, and it just so happens you speak the same language as me.”

“I-I—”

“Wait,” he squints, leaning forward a bit. “… Escucha me. Me entiendes?”

“… I… um...”

“… Ore, wakaru ka?”

“… I-I… don’t know what you’re saying.”

The baffled man’s face furrows with disbelief. She failed the litmus test. If she was truly a figment of his imagination, a conjuring of his own mind, she would be able to understand every language he knows. He stares at the yellow pony sternly, “… Where the hell am I?”

“… In… my cottage?”

“No, I mean, where in the world am I? I haven’t heard of any countries with talking ponies, and I’ve been around.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were asking… it…” she swallows her anxiety, “Equestria. You’re in Equestria.”

“Where the fuck is that on the map?”

“It’s… in the big continent on the left side?”

“In North America?”

Fluttershy’s eyes shift left and right in confusion.

“…” Crimson lets out a tense breath, “Just give me a map if you’ve got one. You said I’ve been out for two days?”

She nods timidly, ducking her head lower at his building agitation.

“… Shit,” he sighs and puts his face into his palms, rubbing his eyes.

Fluttershy eyes him empathetically. She can tell that he’s bothered, in pain, lost, and worrying. She isn’t sure how he even got here, but she knows that this isn’t right. At least she now knows that this human is not aggressive, which brings some solace into her heart.

She turns around and trots towards her nightstand. She opens the bottom drawer and shuffles through it, taking out a rolled-up cloth-woven paper, holding it in her lips. She trots back to Crimson and stands before him again, staring up. Since his face is still in his palms, Fluttershy gently taps his thigh with her hoof to get his attention.

He glances up, seeing her hold the paper in her mouth. It… looks like of cute, the way she’s holding it it. “… That a map?”

She nods quickly.

Crimson reaches out and takes it from her, using both hands to unwind it and open it up. He feasts his eyes on… “… What?”

“… Is… everything okay?”

“… What the hell is this?” he presents the map of Equus to Fluttershy, pointing at it with incredulity.

“… T-The map?”

“This isn’t the map of the world.”

“…B-But i… it is…” she lowers her head bashfully.

He stares at her for a moment, at how sincere she seems about it. There’s no playful or joking aura coming from her. She’s dead serious. This is the map. He glances back at it, holding it in both hands. He slowly begins to shake his head in disbelief. “This… this ain’t right. Where the fuck am I? Equestria? Equus?”

“… I… I take it that you don’t… belong here?” Fluttershy asks, with the voice of a certain purple unicorn ringing in her mind.

“No. I don’t. I don’t know anything this map is telling me. I don’t know how I got into that forest. I’ve never heard of talking ponies. I don’t know where I am, but I don’t belong here.”

Fluttershy’s chest starts to weigh down with guilt.

“I need to get home. I have someone I need to get back to. I have a job, I have school. I can't just-- I can't-- ..." As his brain is sparking, his eyes glance around wildly. "I don’t have time to be… where ever this is. I wanna believe this is all a dream, but there’s nothing that tells me I’m asleep. Tell me, Fluttershy, am I asleep?”

“… No…” she shakes her head once, “you’re… not asleep. Not anymore at least…” Silence fills the room for a moment as both of them enter contemplation. Crimson eyes the map with spite, and Fluttershy gently runs her hoof back and forward on the wooden floor. “… W-What are you going to do?”

“Find a way to get back.”

The guilt starts to become unbearable. Her heart tells her to speak up about what might have caused him to relocate to Equestria, but, “I… I…” her lips quivering as she tries to speak up. Crimson lifts his eyes to her, squinting critically. “… I-I think I can help you.”

Crimson continues gawking at her.

“I, um, mean, I kn-know of somepony that could possibly help! S-She’s smart, a-and know a lot about magic! Maybe she can figure out how you got here!”

“… Magic?”

“... Y-Yes. Magic. Do… do you not have magic where you come from? … And, if I may ask, where do you come from?”

“I’m from Earth. Some place called the United States. As for the magic, that depends on what type magic you’re talking about.”

“The magic I’m talking about is the… the…” she stops herself to think, “… the one that… picks up stuff. And teleports things?”

Crimson’s eyes widen, “… that magic? You guys have that magic?”

She nods.

“Yeah, uh, we don’t have that type of magic. … Back where I’m from, all we’ve got is magic tricks. It ain’t even magic, it’s just illusions.”

“Oh! We have those too!” Fluttershy calls with a small smile. “There’s… actually a pony who caused a lot of trouble recently who uses that type of magic. Is that the only type you have?”

“There’s some other questionable business that I can correlate to, but I’m leaving that aside for now.” His brows furrow, now realizing that he’s straying from the point. “Anyways…” he leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees, “you know someone who can help me?”

She finds her eyes shifting away again once he stares at her. She nods quickly, “a-a friend of mine, Twilight Sparkle. She, um… she might be able to find a way to get you home. I-If there’s anypony that can figure it out, it would be her.”

He finds little amusement in the name, sighing at how incredibly ridiculous it sounds. “… She live nearby?”

“She does. She lives in the town that’s close by, Ponyville. She, um… lives in the library tree in the center of town.”

Crimson’s face drops.

"Twilight Sparkle. Ponyville. Living in a library tree? What type of stupid-ass world is this?"

Fluttershy glances to and away from his face over and over, wary of his severe expression. “W-We can go visit her w-when she’s available.”

“When she’s available?” he repeats in annoyance.

Her ears drop to her head, feeling directly targeted by his demeanor. “S-- … She… um…” her throat momentarily catches in her fear, “… she’s a super busy pony. She might not be in town! I’ll have to go check for you and see if she’s home! T-Tomorrow! First thing in the morning!”

“…” Crimson brings his index finger and his thumb to the bridge of his nose, rubbing between his eyes.

“Crimson, please get some more rest. You look so terribly stressed out, a-and I understand completely. This is all so new to you, and I’m sure it’s scary. I’ll do my best to help you! I promise! But you really need rest, y-you can even sleep in my bed if you’d like, i-it’s more comfortable than the—”

Crimson rises from the side of the bed with a grunt, beginning his trek towards the door.

“… futon?” Fluttershy stares in worry as he makes his way out of her room, towards the stairs. She follows him with furrowed brows, watching him descend the staircase and make his way towards the futon again. He stands on it, he comes down onto his knees, then he lies down on his back. He stares at the ceiling briefly before closing his eyes again.

Fluttershy puts her hoof to her cheek, still watching him worriedly. It seems that he declined her offer, rather more interested in the futon. She stands at the top of the stairs for a while longer, seeing him remain completely still. … After some time, assuming he somehow fell asleep that quickly, she turns around and returns to her bedroom.

She crawls into bed, shuffling under the covers. Looks like it’s going to be another night of hard-to-get sleep. Her mind is bouncing around the room, she doesn’t feel tired at all anymore. Too many thoughts are keeping her from sleep. … And the guilt… she’s going to have to come clean with Twilight about her little lie. But she’s not as worried about that anymore, as she can safely say that he isn’t looking to cause harm or chaos, he only wants to get home. She’s confident that Twilight is going to be more than willing to help.

Tomorrow might be a little stressful… but she hopes it won’t be too much so.

Fluttershy stares into her own reflection on the restroom mirror as she brushes her teeth the next morning.

Her mind consistently rails off to the human sleeping in her living room. She checked up on him before starting her early morning routine, seeing that he was still asleep on the futon. He hadn’t moved an inch from last night, he was still resting perfectly flat on his back without any signs of disturbance. She doesn’t know if the lack of motion is irregular or not, but she concludes it’s normal for humans to remain very still while they sleep, similar to most reptiles... but from what she can tell, he appears to be a mammalian species rather than a reptilian, so the relations are skewed and uncanny.

She spits the toothpaste out of her mouth and rinses her mouth, setting her toothbrush back onto a small wooden plate. She uses her wing to reach for a brush that hangs on the wall next to the mirror, using it to comb her ruffled pink mane. The length and fullness of her hair causes the brush to catch uncomfortably as she strokes, wincing slightly as she undoes the locks with each swipe.

After she is finished with her self-care, she stares at herself in the mirror for a moment longer. She then opens the sink mirror, reaching up to get a roll of cloth with her wing and closing it after.

She turns around and walks out of the restroom, stepping into the hallway and heading for the stairs. She stands at the top, looking down into the living room. She sees that Crimson is awake now, he’s sitting on the futon and staring forward. The morning sun shines through the living room window, illuminating his backside.

Fluttershy’s brows furrow with uncertainty. It looks like he’s having a staring contest with the front door.

She steps down the staircase, her hooves clop against the wood at every step she takes. She keeps her eyes focused on the human, occasionally glancing down to make sure she doesn’t trip and fall. Oddly enough, he’s still sitting there, staring at the door. She is certain he can hear her coming down the steps, but he still isn’t looking over. It’s almost like he’s entranced or something.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, she makes her careful way towards him. She grips the cloth roll in her wing a little tighter as she approaches him, feeling herself become nervous. “… Goodmorning, Crimson.”

The man slowly turns his head to face her with his stagnant expression.

After a few seconds of unresponsive silence, Fluttershy speaks up again. “I, uhm, I hope you don’t mind, b-but…” she displays her right wing, showing the cloth roll that rests on her major feather. “… I-I should really change your bandages. It’s not healthy for you to keep the messy ones on for too long.”

Crimson shifts his eyes to meet hers. Just as the night before, her inner fortitude isn’t strong enough to directly look him back in the eyes. She looks away, puckering her lips. “You said first thing in the morning you were gonna go off to talk to your Twinkle friend,” he states sternly.

Fluttershy lowers her head at the sound of his voice, keeping her eyes away from his. “Y-You’re right, I did say that, b-but please, I don’t want you to get sick. Your messy bandages are going to end up getting—”

Crimson lifts his arms up a bit, giving room for his torso to be properly reached. He knows he can't do it to himself from the lack of leverage and the locations of his wounds, so he may as well get it over with now while she's offering.

Fluttershy stops speaking when he lifts his arms, seeing that he’s allowing himself to be tended to. She moves in quickly, using her mouth to tug at the tied ends of his currently bloody bandages and undo them. She unravels his body from the reddened cloth that surrounds his larger wounds, tossing them gently to the side.

Crimson keeps his eyes on the little yellow pony that is performing standard medical practice on him. It’s still isn’t fully registered to him that this little creature is actually doing the things that it is. It’s as if a human soul was trapped inside the body of some sort of oddly-constructed equine.

He sees how fearlessly she takes his bloodied bandages, giving zero regard to the dirtiness or unsanitary conditions. She moves gracefully, the tip of her soft nose brushes against his skin when she takes a new strand in between her teeth. For a pony that’s as socially awkward as her, some things that would appall most people seem to be common-place for her. He isn’t sure what she does for a living, but judging by the amount of bird houses and cages littered out around her home, he assumes it’s something with animals.

She would leave many nurses out of a job with her level of skill. She tosses the last bandage that covered his right forearm onto the pile of bloodied cloth, fixating her eyes to his battle scars. “Oh wooow,” the yellow pegasus murmurs with a smile. Crimson’s stagnant expression remains as he gazes into her teal orbs. “You’re recovering so well already. This is amazing,” she glances up to his eyes with her adorable smile, then back to his wounds.

The worst of the damage is still very present, but it is closed and healing properly. Many of the smaller scrapes and cuts are already scabs nearly ready to peel off and form new skin.

Fluttershy finds this faculty of his body astonishing. She assumes the healing process happens much faster to humans, as something like this would take at least a week or two for a normal pony. In fact, a normal pony probably wouldn’t have even survived being in the state that he was in.

Crimson says nothing, he stares at her with no change in his face. He watches as she begins to unravel the cloth roll in her wing so she can begin wrapping him back up.

Fluttershy pauses for a moment, finding that she doesn’t exactly have good leverage from standing to his side. She would need to stand in front of him to properly set herself up for wrapping his wounds. She bashfully hides her eyes behind her mane, “I-I need to, uhm…”

“Just do it."

"Please excuse me…” she murmurs, moving to step over him. She positions herself in front of him, standing directly in between his legs. She begins to use her wings and mouth to wrap and roll the new cloth around his body. With the same expertise and grace as before, she does quick work of patching him back up. He occasionally winces at the firm contact when she tugs and ties the cloth, or when he has to lift or shift a body part to give her valid working room.

Fluttershy’s eyes scan along his body as she works with him. It’s not a thought in the forefront of her mind, but she feels herself getting embarrassed, her face becomes warmer as she touches him. It doesn't feel the same as wrapping a chimp’s arm, or bandaging a bear’s damaged hindleg. Interacting with this human isn’t giving her the same sensation she gets from working with any other animal, and she can’t figure out why.

She examines his body as she works, the lack of fur around his body makes his skin perfectly present, but his skin, the skin of a human, is very unique. It isn’t sagging at joints and cuffs, and it isn’t very thick. It’s firm, soft, tight around his figure, and has very small amounts of hair. This minuscule amount of hair is definitely an odd sight to her, and because of this lack of hair, his musculature is prominent and well-defined without the need of contractions giving them extra definition. She is familiar with the muscle structure of some similarly-structured primates to humans, but none of them quite have the dynamic she is seeing in this man’s body. It’s so… proper. Almost regal.

“Thanks,” Crimson states to the mare who’s simply standing in front of him, dragging her eyes across his chest and shoulders.

“Hoh!” her eyes widen, realizing she was already finished and was just gawking at him. She quickly steps off of him, her face reddens from behind her mane at her lack of self-awareness. “Y-You’re welcome…”

“I've got a question.”

“Mh-Y-Yes?”

“… Do you got a phone or know where there’s a phone I can use?”

“… A what?”

“A phone?"

Her timid eyes blink blankly.

"The thing used to talk to people from far away?”

Fluttershy lowers her head in guilt. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is. I-I don’t think we have ‘phone’ in Equestria. I-Is that something you have in Earth?”

Crimson sighs, “Nevermind. I think it's time you go talk to your friend.”

“I-I will, b-but are you sure you don’t want breakfast first? I don’t know how long I will be gone, a-and it’s the most important meal of the day, plus you haven’t eaten anything...”

“Just go talk to her, I’ll be fine. The sooner we can figure all of this shit out, the better.”

Fluttershy’s ears fall to her head, nodding in understanding as she sighs lightly. She does a quick clean-up of the bloody bandages laying on the floor then she heads towards the door, setting aside her morning chores and leaving her saddlebags behind. She takes the door handle into her wing and opens it, nearly bumping into a figure standing right outside her door.

“… Oh?” Rarity’s eyes widen, her hoof lifted up to knock. “Darling?”

“Gyah!” Fluttershy jumps backwards in fright. Her chest rises and falls exaggeratedly, her dilated eyes stare at the prim unicorn who appears to be holding a thermos in her magic.

“Fluttershy? Were you heading out?” Rarity asks. “I stopped by to bring you some of my signature ‘get-well’ soup, I had not figured you would be up and about so early. Are you still feeling ill? You certainly do not look it.”

Fluttershy puckers her lips.

Rarity catches glimpse of something odd sitting on a bed of blankets in the middle of the living room.

She tilts her head to the side, looking past the frozen pegasus, and she makes eye contact with the hazel-eyed creature. “… What in Equestria is that thing?” she asks with furrowed brows.

Crimson stares at the pastel unicorn seriously. He watches with incredulity at the soft-blue twinkling aura of magic that surrounds the thermos, causing it to be suspended in the air.

“Nu-nu-nu-no, Rarity! He's not a thing!” Fluttershy glances back at the man, hoping he isn’t upset at the rather derogatory question. Luckily, he doesn't seem to care, so she proceeds to find an excuse. “He, uhm, he …” her unprepared mind blurs to find a path of explanation.

Rarity glances with furrowed brows between the creature and her friend. “… Fluttershy, would you care to explain what is happening? Are you feeling ill? And what is that he behind you?”

Both mares turn their heads when they hear the sound of grunting emit from the human. They see him rising to his feet, bones pop in his body as he flexes his stiff form around. Rarity’s eyes widen when she witnesses him stand at his full height, she didn’t expect this creature to be this tall, and he certainly didn’t look this tall while sitting down.

She stares at his body, at how battered and damaged he is. Bandages overlap many grotesque wounds, and small amounts of blood stain the newly-placed cloth while some are still white and clean. Her attention is immediately drawn to the one article of clothing that covers his lower region. Her fashion sense is quick to examine the tailor-work put into the garment. It’s quite simple, but well made in terms of stitching—

“Um… oh?” Rarity’s muzzle scrunches at the formation behind the garment. She is no expert on animal anatomy, but she’s confident that this creature is a male. Fluttershy puckers her mouth as Rarity stares without constraint, eyeing the man's 'early morning dilemma.' "F... Fluttershy?"

“R-Rarity, please, let me explain!” Fluttershy pleads desperately.

“I'm gonna use the restroom,” Crimson states firmly, not bothering with an acknowledgement from the mares before beginning his path.

“Nyagh…” Rarity’s head rears back when the creature speaks, staring in disbelief as she watches it turn around and pace up the staircase.

The two ponies remain in silence as he walks up the stairs and enters the small restroom, ducking under the frame and closing the door behind himself. After he is out of sight and earshot, Rarity walks into the cottage and sets the thermos down on the coffee table. She closes the door with her blue magic before leaning her head close to Fluttershy’s, eyeing at her with terrible confusion. “Fluttershy! What in Equestria is happening!?” she whisper-shouts. “What is that thing? It spoke words! Where were you going? Were you ever ill, or was it a fluke? I’m terribly worried for you, please explain immediately!”

“Hooh,” Fluttershy turns her head towards the staircase, then back to Rarity. “… I-I wasn’t actually sick.”

“Why would you lie to me, darling? Applejack would be frowning!”

“I’m so very sorry, I was under so much pressure and I… I—”

“I forgive you, dear, the least of my concern is that you lied, my disquiet lies in your safety. Tell me now, with truth, what is happening with you and that… creature. It appears to be the source of your fret.”

Fluttershy moves her mane out of her face, her eyes remain planted on the wooden floor. “… I-It started two days ago. After we came back to Ponyville from our night out together in Canterlot, I was heading home. Just before I could enter my cottage, I saw… him.”

“Him being… the creature?”

Fluttershy nods quickly. “He--He was in terrible condition, I think he was attacked by a manticore! I was so worried that he wasn’t going to make it.”

“That would certainly explain why he was patched together like an old sweater. He appears to be doing well now though, yes?”

“He is doing a lot better now,” a small smile returns to Fluttershy’s face, “It’s actually surprising how fast he’s recovering.”

“Mn, indeed. Walking around after being attacked by a manticore is no easy feat. That brings me to my next question… what is he? He’s certainly nothing I’ve ever seen before, and even more boggling that he can speak our language!”

“He told me that he’s… a human.”

“A hyu-muhn?” she vocalizes awkwardly.

Fluttershy nods again. “I-I’m not familiar with his species either, I’ve never even heard of humans. T-There’s nothing about them in books, or even what I’ve seen in nature. I… actually don't think he belongs in Equestria… t-that’s why I… lied to you.”

“But why would his presence guide you to lie to me?”

“… Because of what Twilight told me.”

“Twilight? What did Twilight tell you?”

“… W-Well, let me get to that. Once I saw him outside my cottage, I couldn’t just leave him outside. I took him in and helped him get better, then the next day, the day of our spa session, he stayed asleep the entire time. I went to the Ponyville market to get some groceries, and that’s when I bumped into Twilight. We started talking about… Discord.”

“Ugh. Discord.”

Fluttershy smiles wryly, “I feel the same way, but, well, Twilight said that chaos magic could still be around Equestria. Things that Discord has done might still be affecting small parts of the land. … O-One of the things he could have done was displacing creatures in habitats that aren’t their own.”

Rarity’s brows raise. “I would assume that Twilight told you something that potentially endangered the creat--, eherm, the… human?”

Fluttershy nods, “Exactly! She said that anything that could have been caused by Discord’s chaos magic should be… purged with the Elements. That’s when I went home and hid inside my cottage… he was still asleep, a-and that’s when you showed up to my door.”

“… Purge with the Elements? Really? She said exactly that?”

Fluttershy nods again. “I-I didn’t want to risk a potentially innocent creature getting hurt…”

“Did it occur to you that perhaps Twilight didn’t mean elimination of potentially innocent living beings? But instead the eradication of dangerous chaos magic?”

Fluttershy brings her hoof to her chin in thought.

Rarity sighs, but smiles and puts her hoof on Fluttershy’s side. “Darling, I understand your concerns, but you’re overworking yourself over nothing. I am very certain that Twilight would not be so daft as to use the Elements on an innocent creature. … He is innocent, correct? He has not shown any signs of aggression or hostility?”

“N-No, he hasn’t. He’s been… calm? Well, not calm. He’s…” Fluttershy’s trails off as she tries to find the words.

“He’s not calm?”

“I-I don't mean it like that! He hasn’t tried to hurt me in any way. He’s just… he’s having a difficult time. He doesn’t belong here, I think he was pulled from a completely different world.”

“Fluttershy, dear, that’s nonsense.”

“B-But I gave him a map of Equus! He looked at it and got really upset. He says he comes from a placed called ‘Earth,’ he has no idea where he is right now. Would it really be that hard to believe that chaos magic caused this?”

“... I suppose you have a point. This is much more complicated than I thought. A human, relocated to another place entirely unfamiliar. ... I give him reason to be upset.”

“He’s in so much distress, and I completely understand why he acts the way he does.”

“How long have you conversed with the human? You said he was asleep all day yesterday.”

“I was asleep last night, I think he woke up in sometime while I was sleeping. He—uh, … I woke up in the middle of the night also. I got to know him a little better then. From then to now, he’s been… well…”

Rarity raises an eyebrow to her friend.

“… I-It’s not that he’s rude, but he’s… distant.”

“Well, that is certainly not good. If he’s in much distress, it is only a matter of time before something severe occurs. I certainly would lose my patience if everything I knew was changed overnight. Do you happen to have a plan of action for the human?”

“Before I bumped into you, I was actually going over to Twilight’s. I was… going to try to explain to her what was happening. I’m hoping she can come up with some way to help Crimson back to his home.”

“That’s the human’s name?”

Fluttershy nods with a small smile.

“Interesting. Twilight would indeed be our best bet to solve this displacement mystery. ... Hm, Fluttershy, may I ask something a-slight off-topic?”

“Of course.”

“The human appeared to be wearing a single article of clothing. I’m… certain you are fully aware of that.”

Fluttershy’s cheeks tint pink and she nods.

“Do you happen to know where he acquired the piece?”

“I have no idea. When he came to me, he was already wearing it.”

“… How peculiar,” Rarity’s eyes scan the ground in thought. “I shall make it a point to ask him soon. Right now may not be the best time for playing questionnaire, but I find his clothing piece quite fascinating.”

“… I think he needs that piece of clothing.”

“Everyone needs clothing, dear, you cannot be truly fashionable without it.”

“Nu-no, I-I mean… he neeeds it.”

Rarity’s mouth forms an ‘o’, furrowing her brows.

“I… I don’t think he’s, and I mean humans as a whole, are capable of, um… hiding themselves.”

“Oh. Oh, I see,” she states in realization, reflecting back on the certain image she saw under the man’s undergarments before he left. “Yes, I do suppose that is one explanation as to why he has it. But that does not explain where he acquired it. Ooh, there are many things I wish to ask, there is much hidden potential with this human.”

“I have a lot of questions too, but like you said, maybe it’s a better idea that we give him some space… for right now, at least.”

The bathroom door opens, and out comes the red-haired man ducking under the doorframe. He moves to the staircase and slowly descends, holding his left side with squinting eyes.

The two mares turn their heads to stare at him, to which he stares back at them once he stops at the bottom of the stairs.

“Eherm,” Rarity clears her throat. “Crimson?”

The man’s eyes lock onto the pastel unicorn.

“Hello, my name is Rarity. I am a friend of Fluttershy, I am also a tailor and own a boutique in town. It is a pleasure to be at your acquaintance.”

His brows raise slightly. Rather than introduce himself in return, he returns a question, “You make clothes?”

“Indeed I do! I, err, see that you are wearing a piece right now! It is very well done, I must say.”

Receiving a compliment on his underwear is one of the most outlandish things he’s ever heard, but he brushes it aside to ask, “You don’t suppose you’d be able to make me some clothes? I don’t know about you, uh, ponies, but humans kind of need them. I’m practically naked right now.”

“Ah, so your assumption was correct, Fluttershy,” Rarity smiles at her yellow friend, who bashfully rubs her arm with her hoof. “Hmn…” she strokes her chin with her hoof, then she trots over towards him.

Fluttershy’s eyes dilate at how close Rarity is getting to him, hoping he doesn’t react negatively. Rarity gazes his form up and down, taking an analytical eye to his frame. Fluttershy puts her hoof over her mouth as Rarity examines every part of his body.

Crimson watches the little magic-horned pony move around him as she mumbles softly to herself. “It… may be a challenge… but for Rarity, there is nothing that cannot be done!”

“Good to hear,” Crimson's brows raise softly. “What's the currency used here?"

He receives skeptical glances from both mares in response to his question.

"... What do you all take as payment? I'll pay back whatever the cost is.”

“Payment? Nu-nu-nu, no payment necessary, darling. Fluttershy told me of your situation. It is a harrowing thought to be lost in a foreign land. My services to you are completely free, as you now don the goun of our friendship,” she smiles proudly up at him. Crimson squints, giving her a look of incredulity. Rarity’s happy smile slowly drops to a wry, unsure one, and she clears her throat. “I-Is there something wrong?”

“What's the catch?”

“Wh-… Whatever do you mean?”

“Is there some sort’a contract you’re gonna make me sign?”

“Oh?” Rarity tilts her head. After internalizing his question, she chuckles and swings her hoof, “No, not at all, darling! I don't expect anything in return! It is simply who I am. For you see, I…” she blinks slowly and lusciously, “am the Element of Generosity~” she strikes a awkward-looking pose that is supposed to come off as elegant.

“That’s great, but I don’t like owing favors. Point me somewhere where I can find some work and I’ll pay you what it costs.”

“Darling, please, I insist. No payment required, and no favors owed. While I had plans to begin drafts for a new fall line, I will halt that for the moment. Our current situation demands immediate attention! Shall we get started on fitting you with new clothing, mister Crimson?” she asks, turning her gaze back to him.

“Just Crimson," Fluttershy interjects suddenly. Rarity bounces her questioning gaze between her and the man.

"What she said," he tilts his head at her, "just Crimson. And yeah, the sooner the better."

"I should go now," Fluttershy calls, "I have to go talk to Twilight, just as I promised! Um, uuh, h-help yourself to the food on the counter, Crimson! Please be my guest!”

“I’ll go with you, Fluttershy dear,” Rarity says while taking a step toward her. When a thought strikes her, she turns to to man, “Mm, would you like me to bring the materials required to measure and tailor to you? I realize that your clothing situation leaves you quite… exposed. I understand if you wish not to strut across town in your current apparel.”

“That would be preferable,” he replies.

Rarity glances over to Fluttershy, “You would not mind a small, temporary clutter in your cottage, would you, darling?”

Fluttershy shakes her head with a small smile, turning to head for the door. Rarity nods back with a determined grin, trotting next to her friend. Fluttershy opens the door and lets her friend go first. She stops at the doorframe, turning her head to glance at the man one more time. “W-We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yeah.”

The two mares exit and shut the door, leaving Crimson to his lonesome. He stares at the door for a while longer after they leave, his bored, sleepy eyes blink slowly while he trails off into thought. He slowly makes his way towards the kitchen, feeling his hunger biting back at him again. He sees the assortment of fruits and veggies still splayed out, leaving him to pick and choose from the pile. Although he'd prefer a nice chicken breast, his current options are given and without charge. He leans forward, resting his palm on short island. His eyes look at the produce in front of him, but he doesn’t actually stare at them. His blood is boiling at the situation that he finds himself in.

“… I’m still here. I’m still fuckin’ here. This ain’t a dream. I’m really here. How? How did I get here? How in the flying fuck did I even get here? …” his hands ball into fists, “… hrrgh…” He brings his palms up to his eyes, resting his elbows against the counter-top. He digs his nails into his forehead, huffing in anger. “Fhuuuck. Why’s this shit happening to me? Why can’t I just be home? ... Viola… please don’t be mad at me. I’ll do everything I can to get home. I didn’t mean to leave you. I just… rgh, I don’t even have my fucking phone. She has no idea where I am, and I got NO way to contact her.”

"I love you~"

He hears a gentle coo in his mind, a tiny whisper that he occasionally hears from time to time. It sounds like his sister, murmuring her sweet voice into his ear and telling him beautiful nothings in order to ease his nerves. It's one of the hallucinations he has that isn't a complete detriment to his mental health. He’s hearing it now. Her voice is so close and warm.

He lets his palms fall from his face, and he blinks his eyes open again. He squints at the void, standing up straight and furrowing his brows. He knows this isn’t how his sister would want him to be, she wouldn’t want him to be upset.

He suppresses his frustration and pulls up his composure, being angry about it won’t solve anything right now. He just needs to be patient, gather information, and find a way to get the hell out of… where ever the hell this pony land is. He looks down at the produce before him again, reaching down and taking a banana, unpeeling it and biting off a chunk into his mouth.

“C’mooon, Twilight,” pleads the young green and purple dragon. “You’ve been buried in that book all morning.”

Again, he's ignored. He flops onto his back inside of his bed-basket, staring upside-down towards the lavender mare, who’s scanning her eyes on a book held in her magic while sitting in her unmade bed. They both reside in the second floor of the Golden Oak library.

"Twiliiiight..."

“One moment, Spike,” Twilight replies as she flips to the next page, sternly focused on the text.

“Hooh, but I’m soooo hungry! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

Twilight glances quickly towards Spike then back to the book. Her eyes squint at the last few sentences on the right page. “… Huuh!” she huffs, slamming the book shut and letting it fall from her magic onto her bed. Spike recoils at her frustration, thinking it was aimed at him, but Twilight sighs softly and smiles wryly at him, “Sorry. I’m not mad at you, Spike, I’m just… frustrated.”

"Why? Didn’t you just get done defeating the Lord of Chaos? Shouldn’t you be taking it easy now?”

“Just because he was ‘defeated’ doesn’t mean he’s gone for good. Chaos magic is unpredictable, and I can’t take it easy until I’m sure it’s gone.”

“Didn't the Elements of Harmony do that big magic dome thing? It reversed everything Discord ever did. What makes you think his magic still around?”

“Fluttershy.”

“Fluttershy?"

“I suppose you could say it start off as paranoia," Twilight muses seriously. "Two days ago, I was reading up on everything I could find about chaos magic.”

“How could I forget. You didn’t make dinner that night.”

“Focus, Spike. There were very few books or articles of text that had any sort of information about it, and the sources that did weren’t extremely useful. The one congruency that my research led to was the lingering effect of chaos magic. These lingering effects vary, but one of them may be the displacement of wildlife. The only pony I'd know who'd be acting strangely because of that is her.”

“But Discord was trapped back into stone. How could his magic still be around if he isn’t?”

“That’s the part that I didn’t find answers to! This book,” Twilight taps the book she was just reading, “was the last, and most recent, documentation about magic types. The section about chaos was literally a paragraph long! And it only talked about how it’s an ‘unorthodox and anomalous magic type.’ Like that helps!”

“I guess Discord’s really the only guy that knows how his magic works.”

Twilight’s eyes fall to the book, staring at it distastefully. “Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I'll stop trying. I won’t rest until I’m sure Equestria is free from Discord’s clutches.”

“… Could we at least have breakfast first?”

Twilight lifts her unamused eyes to the purple dragon, to which he stares back with a guilty smile. Twilight can't help but giggle back at the silly face he has plastered on his front. “… Of course we can, Spike."

Knock-knock-knock

Twilight and Spike shift their attention to the lower floor.

“Where you expecting company, Spike?” Twilight asks curiously.

“Not me, I was planning on sleeping in today.”

Twilight hops off her bed and trots down the stairs quickly, heading towards the door and using her magic to open it. Coincidentally, she sees her wary yellow and pink pegasus friend standing on the other side, hiding one of her teal eyes behind her mane. “Oh! Hey, Fluttershy. What brings you here?”

“I, um, was hoping I could… talk to you about something. It’s important. B-But if you’re busy, I understand completely.”

Twilight shakes her head and steps aside from the door, “Come on in, I was actually hoping to see you.”

Fluttershy walks in humbly, keeping her head bowed until she enters completely. She spots Spike peeking from upstairs, seeing him wave at her. She waves back with her hoof, feeling a little more invited thanks to his solicitation. He retreats back to his bed-basket and disappears from sight.

Twilight closes the door with her magic before glancing towards her friend, “What was it that you wanted to talk about?”

Fluttershy rubs her right arm with her left hoof, gathering her thoughts together to form an explanation…

Crimson tosses the core of a pear into the trash bin in Fluttershy’s kitchen, finishing off his seventh fruit. He’s not very hungry anymore, but eating nothing but fruit leaves his appetite less than satisfied. Sure, the fruits he ate were exceptionally tasty, better than anything he’s had back at home, but an strictly herbivore diet is starting to sit uncomfortably in his system.

It’s been a decent while since Fluttershy and Rarity left, leaving him to his own thoughts. He hates it, he hates being left alone just to think. He always finds something to occupy himself with so he doesn’t have to think or remember, whether it be working overtime, purposefully staying at school to ‘understand the subject better,’ or just talking endlessly with his sister. But now he stands by himself, in this unknown land, and left idle.

His eyes shift around, looking at everything in sight again. Nothing has changed from his first examination, everything is still in their usual place. He turns his head as he continues scanning the room around in a slow circle.

Fortunately, something catches his attention. His brows raise slightly upon spotting an article he failed to notice before, a note taped onto the fridge door. He turns his body, stepping forward to get a better look at it. The yellow piece of paper contains black-ink scribbles and tiny doodles with pink crayon, appearing to take the form of some sort of list, marked by bullet points. The language used doesn’t make any sense, it looks like runes and glyphs instead of words. It boggles him to think that this note isn’t written in English, considering that’s the exact same language the ponies around him speak.

He spends several minutes gawking cluelessly at the list before the sound of the front door clicking and opening interrupts him, followed by a harmonious voice calling, “Yoohoo! I’m baaack!”

Rarity opens the cottage door with her magic, trotting in with several tin boxes, a sewing machine, and rolls of fabric also in her magical grasp. That’s a lot of things she’s holding at once. Magic is truly impressive.

Crimson walks towards the frame that separates the kitchen and the living room, resting against it, as the pastel unicorn sets everything down on the coffee table and closes the door behind her. “That’s a lot of stuff you brought.”

“Pfft. Darling, I’d be more afraid that I did not bring enough stuff. Creating the perfect ensemble means you’re never too prepared. Now! Let us begin.” She waves her small, snow-white hoof at him, signaling him to come to her.

Crimson leans off the wall and steps forward, stopping at Rarity’s front. She opens one of the tin boxes she brought and takes out some measuring tape. The man watches the long yellow strand of malleable marked plastic float magically across the air, tickling his skin as it grazes him when she takes a measurement. The white unicorn also takes the liberty of enveloping his limbs with her magic, which honestly tickles and doesn’t feel unpleasant, in order to shift them around to get a proper length or turn.

“Mm, these measurements are quite unlike anything I’ve done before, but the framework should be the same,” Rarity mumbles to herself. “Now comes the most exciting part of the process! What sort of style do you have in mind? Would you prefer a more sleek, uniform appearance? Or perhaps sleeveless rogue? The summertime can be quite punishing, but that is no excuse for drab attire! Your body frame gives quite extensive possibilities, do take your time in deciding what apparel you’d like, even for myself it can be a challenging decision!”

“I just want a plain t-shirt and some jeans.”

“… Deh-wha?” Rarity tilts her head.

Crimson raises his left brow, wondering if she truly speaks the same language as him. “A plain t-shirt. And some jeans.”

“Uuhy…” the white mare puckers her lips, “... w-what are ‘jeans,’ darling?”

“You don’t know what jeans are?”

Rarity shakes her head bashfully, “I-I’ve never heard of such a term. I do not believe we ponies have ‘jeans.’ What, um… what material are they made from?”

“Denim. They’re denim pants.”

“Dh-Oh!” Her eyes beam in understanding and she clears her throat. “Jeans, denim. Very, um… interesting terminology. Denim pants is what you want? … With a… plain shirt?” Crimson nods slowly. Rarity looks back despondently at all the material she brought, including the plethora of colored cloths and fabrics. “… Um, I…” she faces the man again, “One pair of pants and one shirt. … Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like? Please do not be afraid to ask, I truly mean it.”

“Just that.”

“…” Rarity’s muzzle scrunches. “… Eherm, then, would it bother you if I made several sets of that clothing? Perhaps in different colors? Your request is simple enough and would not take too much time… and, it would seem that I did bring too much material…”

“If it’s not a problem with you.”

Rarity’s smile returns to her face, feeling some weight lifted from her shoulders. It’s always a relief to have a client without picky standards. “Not at all, dear! I shall begin immediately!”

The white unicorn sits down at the coffee table, using her magic and her hooves to simultaneously work cloth and utilities. Crimson sits down on the couch, getting a front row seat to this mare's art-form. She starts by opening one of the tin boxes she brought and levitates a charcoal pencil and a piece of paper to herself, sketching out the articles of clothing and their proportions, and after she’s done, she begins tailoring.

And that’s the third shirt done. She levitates it next to the neatly-folded pile next to Crimson on the couch, which has the other two shirts and two pairs of pants. She's fast and efficient, and she doesn't seem to mind being watched while working. In fact, it might even be that she enjoys the attention.

It was a shame that she only brought enough denim to make two pairs of pants, but two is a higher number than zero. Crimson doesn’t really recall when she started, but she’s been humming some tune that sounds quite nice. “Hmm-hmm-hmm, stitching it together~” she murmurs to herself. The elegance and grace behind her motions, backed by her strangely womanly and beautiful appearance, is returning such surreal sensations to him.

It all happened so quickly, he still isn’t fully conscious of the fact that he isn’t home. One day, he was dealing with his half-drunk coworkers, somehow allowed to drink during their shift, punching in inventory numbers wrong. The next day, he's getting attacked by a massive lion-scorpion.

He remembers, as if it were yesterday, he was at his professor’s office, pretending not to know what the difference between an igneous extrusive and igneous intrusive rock was, just to get extra tutoring from her. The next day, he's getting medical procedure done to him by a talking yellow pony with bird wings.

His brows furrow, “… How?”

“Mm, what was that, darling?” Rarity asks, letting her red glasses fall further down her muzzle to glance over at him properly.

“… Nah, just… talking to myself,” he looks away from her, towards the kitchen.

“Aw, do not be embarrassed, dear, I talk to myself all the time. Is there something on your mind?” He shakes his head in response. Rarity smiles at him and lifts her glasses back to the proper position, focusing again. "Well, if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm always here to listen."

Crimson’s eyes remain directed to the kitchen. He squints slightly when an idea strikes him.

He glances towards Rarity, then towards the kitchen again. He rises up from the couch and walks towards the kitchen. He looks to his right as soon as he enters, staring at the yellow note stickied onto the fridge. He approaches it, and with both hands, carefully removes it, making sure the tape is left intact. He turns around and walks back towards the living room, shifting his eyes across the undecipherable text.

He walks up to the pastel unicorn, standing at her side. “Hey, uh... Rarity," he announces her name with a tinge in uncertainty. "Sorry to interrupt, but could you tell me what this says?”

Rarity sits up and levitates her glasses off of her face, holding them in the air as she looks over curiously. Crimson holds the paper out for her, and her azure orbs scan each bullet. “Hm-hm-hm, na-na-na…” she whispers to herself as she reads quickly. Her left brow raises, “… This is Fluttershy’s chore list, darling. Where did you get this?”

“It was on her fridge door.”

“How peculiar. Are you unable to understand written Ponish?”

“If this is what it looks like,” he shakes the paper a bit, “then no. It’s nothing like written English.”

“What an interesting phenomenon. I’m certain Twilight will have an enjoyable time with you once you meet her.”

“I don’t mean to keep you from tailoring, but,” he stares at the yellow paper, “… think you could help me translate this? The practice could be useful.”

“Of course, dear! I would never deny you the learning of an essential skill such as reading and writing!”

“Thanks,” Crimson says as he glances around. He sees that one of the tin boxes, which Rarity has brought with her and opened, contains small sticks of charcoal pencil and small sheets of paper. “Hold this for me,” he signals to the yellow list in his hand. Rarity nods and takes it with her magic.

He reaches over and takes a stick and a piece of paper, sitting back down on the couch and resting the paper on his thigh.

Rarity gets up and sits down onto the couch next to him, levitating the paper so it’s in both of their view. Crimson places the tip of the charcoal pencil on the paper, ready to write.

Rarity clears her throat and reads aloud, “My things to do by the end of the week.”

Crimson quickly writes the words that come from her mouth.

“This isn’t good, this isn’t good!” Twilight trots back and forward. “This is only the beginning! There’s probably a hundred of other problems Discord has caused! Fluttershy, why would you hold this away from me?”

“I'm very sorry,” Fluttershy drags her hoof up and down across the wooden floor.

“Who’s to say it’s only Equestria that’s affected? What if we’re facing collateral damage with other worlds!?”

“W-Well, Twilight, I was thinking that maybe we could—”

“Fluttershy!” Twilight suddenly stops pacing and looms over the yellow pegasus.

“Hnh!”

“You said the human creature is at your home?”

“For the hundredth time, Twilight,” Spikes sighs loudly, “yes! He is! If you’re so worried that there’s a ‘temporal anomaly’ attached to this human thing, why don’t you go see for yourself?”

“See for myself? See for myself!? Spike, you--!” her mind comes to a freezing halt. “… You… You’re right! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Spike smacks his forehead.

“That’s what I was trying to say,” Fluttershy huffs quietly to herself.

“You probably didn't think of it because you were going fully Twilight-mode,” Spike retorts snidely.

Twilight’s muzzle scrunches. “… What’s that supposed to mean?

Spike recoils, feeling scoped by the purple unicorn’s eyes. “I-It means, uh, that I, err... am going back to bed!” He quickly retreats from the edge of the second floor and leaps back into his basket, hiding under the blankets.

“… I was also going to suggest telling the other girls to come with us,” Fluttershy says with a small smile. “They should meet him too. Maybe if he makes some friends, he’ll be a bit more open and comfortable. I sure would enjoy new friends if I was forcefully relocated against my will.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Fluttershy. Sorry for being intemperate with you, I've... been kind of stressed lately."

"It's okay," Fluttershy smiles and fixes a stray hair on Twilight's mane, "I've been a little stressed too."

"You said Rarity is already at your cottage with him, correct?” Fluttershy nods to her question. “That makes our lives easier. I’ll go talk to Applejack and Pinkie Pie. Could you go to Rainbow’s and see if she’s home?”

The yellow pegasus nods again with a growing smile.

“Spike, we’re heading out. I left a bowl of gems on the kitchen counter in case I couldn't make you breakfast, make sure not to eat it all at once--”

Without a word, the purple dragon leaps out of the basket, nearly stumbles down the staircase and disappears through the kitchen door frame. The two mares giggle at his antics and proceed to exit the library.

Crimson reads through his own annotations one last time before being satisfied with it. A full list of the yellow mare's things to do around her home. She's quite a busy pony. He had already stuck the original note back in its place on the fridge, so now all he has to do is thank his translator. “Thanks, Rarity.”

“No thanks required! Truth be told, this was a fun exercise. It is not often something like this needs to be done. Language is so simple yet so complicated. Are you sure you don’t have any more questions?”

“I’m sure. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”

“Nonsense, I always have time for a friend,” she smiles at the human besides her genuinely. Crimson stares back at her without a change in his bored expression, then returning his eyes to his own list.

Rarity’s eyes shift away and her smile drops slightly, feeling a bit hollowed at the fact that he didn't acknowledge her statement. Still, she fixes her expression back to confidence before she calls, “Four more shirts and you should have one for each day of the week.” She stands from the couch, returning to the coffee table and sitting down at her previous station. She uses her horn to reignite the sewing machine and she gently pushes the cloth with her hooves.

“That reminds me,” Crimson squints, still looking at his list, “what day of the week is it today?”

“Today is Saturday, darling.”

Crimson furrows his brows at the coincidence. Had everything gone normally back at Earth, today would have been Saturday also. … Three days of absence. Two full days of failing to show up to work and school…

"Hohoo, we're gonna get fuckin' fired."

There's that voice again. That fucking voice.

His fingers begin to crumble the paper he’s holding a bit. His tension slowly begins to work itself all across his body. He flexes his jaw left and right, feeling it pop slightly at every interval.

"Our grades are gonna dip. Military affairs ain’t gonna pay for our school if we drop out. Shame too, we were SO close to getting that promotion."

There’s that ringing again. That ringing in the ears. It’s loud. It’s too loud. His mind begins to pull up memories again...

“Ah, it's that guy that don’t talk much but gets shit done,” says sarcastically a burly man with a goatee and a backwards ballcap. He wears a brown button-up shirt and faded jeans, both loose around his stout frame. He gives off an appearance that displays little effort, but made up for by his sociable personality.

Crimson grunts as he carefully sets a large box of supplies down, wiping his forehead before getting out his notepad. “That's me,” he says to his chief as he jots down the serial number. The sounds of forklifts beeping and boxes impacting the ground resonate throughout the massive warehouse.

“I ain't bustin' your balls neither, it’s a respectable trait. But I’m curious.” Crimson hangs his notepad back on the beltloop of his pants once he’s done, lifting his eyes to give his chief supervisor his full attention. “Why?”

“That’s a broad question,” Crimson retorts.

“Then allow me t'be more specific… what keeps you from talkin’ as much as the average folk? There some sorta underlyin’ premise to your speech, or lack thereof?”

“Talking’s unnecessary most of the time.”

“… Really? That your reasoning?”

Crimson nods.

Draft lets out a hearty laugh and places his hand on the red-haired man’s shoulder, barely tall enough to do so. “That sounds like bullshit, brother. Talkin's very necessary most of the time. Nah, there’s probably another reason. You shy ‘r something? It’s alright to be a little shy.”

Crimson gives Draft an unamused glare. “Less talking means more doing.”

“Hah, that’s a good philosophy actually! Some of the idiots around here should take that to heart. You’re on your way to making bank, brother. I’m about done, and I’mma enjoy the benefits of being an old fart relaxin’ at home doin’ nothing, gettin’ a fat check from ShipCo every month. Being real with you, supervisor here ain’t gotta do shit but show up, and I make dough. Almost four times as much over y’all who’re breakin’ your backs all day. Listen, once my time’s done, I’ll make DAMN sure you take my spot. I know your situation with yer sister and all, so I couldn’t think of anyone better for the position.”

Crimson stares at the ground, his face unmoving in expression. Still, deep inside, he feels a slight warmth building. The thought of making enough money to support himself and Viola comfortably brings solace to his wary mind. She won’t have to work as a mailwoman anymore, and she can finally make that garden she always wanted.

“Life’s hard. You know that too well. ... You keep on keepin’ on, brother,” Daft pats Crimson's shoulder before he lets go, walking off towards the sound of his voice being called by another floor worker.

"We're gonna get fucking fired."

“Crimson, dear, are you alright?”

The ringing comes to a sudden halt and Crimson’s eyes snap open. He didn’t even realize he had closed them. He sees Rarity standing directly in front of him, her hoof to her cheek in worry.

He glances around, seeing that she's already done, everything is organized and stored inside of her tin boxes. The articles of clothing she expertly crafted for him are resting next to him on the couch. He even sees some black sandals made of cloth and high-quality plastic sitting at the very top of the folded pile, even though he completely forgot to ask her for foot wear. Definitely unexpected, but unsurprising coming from an astute clothe-maker.

It would appear that his mental tangents caused some time to skipped him by. It happens too often, to the point where his doctor nearly labeled him disabled and unable to work. He's able to control it if he tries hard enough, but he's finding it very difficult to come with a reason to fight it. With the amount of stress building, he needs to get up and do something.

“… Crimson?” Rarity asks again, placing her hoof at his right knee.

“… I, uh…” his body still feels hot from tension. He looks down at the list, seeing that he’s crumbled and moistened it at the sides where his fingers hold it tightly. “… I need some air.”

The pastel unicorn steps back to allow him to rise from the couch, and he does so, immediately walking towards the pile of clothes and dropping the sandals onto the ground. He takes some pants from the bottom of the stack and hastily puts them on. They fit very comfortably, firm around the waist, and loose around the groin to allow for movement. He then frantically puts on the first shirt in the stack, a plain white t-shirt. It fits perfectly, snug around the body and wide enough at the shoulders. He fails to realize how incredibly well done his clothes are in his stress.

Rarity watches with puckered lips at the rather uncomfortable display he is presenting. She wants to compliment him in how well he looks in his new garments, but she isn't able to find an opening to speak. Once he gets his pants and shirt on over his bandaged body, he slips into the black sandals effortlessly.

“Thanks. Rarity. For the clothes," he says as he steps past her with haste and heads towards the kitchen, he remembered seeing a door there that led to the backyard of this property.

Rarity hears the door open, then close a second later. She stands alone in the living room, staring at the doorframe that leads to the kitchen. Her brows furrow in contemplation, she realizes now what Fluttershy was saying earlier, about his... "distant" demeanor. She fully understands why, but... it's a little difficult to swallow when it's happening to her directly.

Rarity walks to the couch and sits down next to the stack of clothes, sighing despondently.

Uncounted time passes before the front door to the cottage suddenly busts open, startling the unicorn mare. A collage of familiar voices fill the silence.

“OooOoor, maybe we can throw a ‘welcome to Equestria’ party! Now THAT would be a good ice-breaker!” announces the pouncing pink pony as she bounces into the cottage first. “WELCOME TO EQUESTIA!” she calls happily with closed eyes into the room, hoping to surprise the human. Rarity stares at Pinkie sourly. Pinkie’s eyes open upon receiving silence as a reply, her eyes shift around the room that only appears to have Rarity in it. “… Rarity? What? Rarity doesn’t need a ‘welcome to Equestria’ party! She lives here already, you silly gooses!”

“U-Um, actually, the plural form of goose is geese,” Fluttershy corrects as she walks in next.

Rainbow Dash glides in steadily after her, then Twilight and Applejack walk in after. The confused mares glance around the living room to see nothing but the snowy-violet unicorn sitting by herself.

“… Twilight?” Applejack furrows her brows.

“Rarity?” Twilight deflects Applejack's questioning to her.

“He’s… out. He made his exit in order to 'get some air,'” Rarity rubs her left leg with her hoof.

“Well, where'd he go? Let’s go get him!” Rainbow Dash exclaims impatiently, “I didn’t wake up from my nap to sit around doing nothing!”

“No!” Fluttershy and Rarity call at the same time, apparently knowing something that they don't. The other four mares give them strange looks.

“Why not?” Rainbow interrogates.

“He really looked like he need some alone time,” Rarity states. “I believe it would be best if we waited for his return.”

“Well, shoot,” Applejack huffs, “I’ve got an orchard full’a apples waitin’ to get bucked, now I gotta wait around till this here ‘human’ creature gets back. I’m with Dash, I’m thinkin’ we need to deal with them as soon as possible.”

“Applejack, please,” Fluttershy pleas, “it would be rude to bother him. If he needs space, we should be kind enough to give it to him.”

“Aww, but that means I have to wait in order to ask him what his favorite flavor of ice cream is!” Pinkie trots in place. “I neeeeed to know!”

“Did he say when he was coming back?” Twilight asks Rarity.

“He… did not. He only left after giving his ‘thanks’ for the clothing I had made for him,” she hints towards the folded pile next to her.

“You made him clothes?” Applejack glares with little amusement. “Already playin’ dress-up with the new creature. That explains why Fluttershy's cottage gone lookin' like yer boutique.”

“Psh, pfft, no, Applejack!” Rarity’s brows furrow, “I am not playing 'dress-up' with him! He needs the clothing! His body is unlike ours!”

“Well, it would be nice to SEE him already!” Dash sighs in annoyance. “I seriously need my power naps!”

“What’s his favorite flavor of ice cream!?” Pinkie screams at no one.

“Girls!” Twilight cries. Everyone stops and gives their attention to her. “… Girls. You all know we wouldn’t interrupt your daily lives for something that wasn’t important. I haven’t seen him either, and I have things I need to be doing too, but we need to be patient.”

“And ruin my elaborately assembled nap schedule?" Dash questions. "So what if some magic talking animal got sent to Equestria? Just find a way to send him back! End of story!”

“It’s not that simple,” Twilight retorts, “this is CHAOS magic we’re dealing with. The most inexplicable and unpredictable magic type there is!”

“Chaos magic,” Applejack taps her chin. “Sounds mighty dangerous. You said this critter ain’t violent, right?”

“He’s not violent at all,” Fluttershy states firmly, “just very stressed.”

“Then what’s the harm in lettin’ him out into the wild if he ain’t dangerous? Just find a habitat that’s like his original one. Fluttershy, you’ve got that covered.”

“He—He’s not—” Fluttershy’s brows furrow. “Applejack! He’s not like that! He’s like us!”

“What Fluttershy means to say,” Twilight puts her hoof on her aggravated yellow friend’s shoulder, “he’s a being of higher-order thinking, like us. He has resolve and contemplation. I wouldn’t have called you all over if he was like every other animal. He’s different, and I’ve been coming up with a plan to make his temporary stay here more welcoming.”

“Okay, woah, slow down there,” Rainbow motions with both of her forehooves, “so this human thing. You’re saying he’s smart?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Fluttershy huffs and her wings spread apart.

“Alright, alright,” Applejack places her hoof on Fluttershy’s chin, gazing into her eyes. “We’re sorry, sugarplum. We didn’t mean to make you upset none.”

Fluttershy sighs deeply and her wings fall limply to her sides. "... I know."

“You were saying something abooout…” Pinkie leans closer to Twilight with an ever-expanding smile, “making him feel more welcomed? Like a party?”

“Not exactly that, but,” Twilight smiles back, “from what Fluttershy has told me, he comes from another world entirely, a place called Earth. He has his own family and life there, so being separated from it is taking a toll on his mental health. The plan I came up with is very, very simple. It should help him deal with being away from home better, until we can find a way to get him back to his world.” The other girls eye her intently. “Make him our friend.”

Mixed looks come from everyone around.

“… Make him our friend?” Rainbow Dash squints skeptically.

“That sounds like a GREAT idea!” Pinkie exclaims.

“Well I reckon Rarity ‘n Fluttershy got a headstart on that,” the orange earth mare glances between both of them. They both return wary glances and don’t vocally respond to the claim. “But what make y’all believe we can ‘befriend’ this here human? From what y’all tell me, it don’t sound like he was in the market fer makin’ friends.”

“Well that’s just it,” Twilight smiles, “a distant pony won’t go looking for friendships on their own. The friendships should go for them!”

“And what makes you think that’ll work?” Dash questions.

“Because I’m a perfect example of it working. Remember when I first arrived to Ponyville?”

The girls let her words resonate for a moment inside their minds. Small smiles form on the mouths of everyone around.

“… Well, I suppose we ain’t got much to lose,” Applejack nods.

“Eh, I’d still rather be asleep,” Dash crosses her arms dismissively. Everyone around gawks daggers at her. “… What? I’m kidding, sheesh,” she says, sounding quite insincere.

“Hoh!” Fluttershy’s head turns quickly. The familiar sound of the quiet squeaking of her kitchen’s back door opening rings in her ears. Everyone turns their focus to whatever it is that has Fluttershy’s attention. “He’s coming!”

Eyes remain focused intently at the kitchen doorframe. The door can be heard clicking shut, then the soft clack of sandals is heard approaching.

Crimson steps out into the frame, shifting his tired eyes across the spectrum of color before him.

The multitude of eyes looking up at him all share the same expression of mild discomfort. He looks between each of them individually, getting accustomed to their appearance.

On the far left is Rarity, the snow-white-coated and lavender-maned mare who he’s already familiar with. Next to her is a purple unicorn with a navy-blue mane that has pink and purple streaks. At her side, a pink mare with hair like cotton candy has a face-breakingly wide smile. She, like the orange and blonde pony wearing a cowboy hat next to her, doesn't appear to have either wings or a horn.

Fluttershy stands at the very right side, hiding her left eye behind her pink mane. Lastly, a rainbow-maned pegasus with a cyan coat lazily hovers above the others, flapping her wings so slowly, they really shouldn't be keeping her in the air, yet they are.

The awkward tension is nearly palatable as everyone stands there and stares back at the man. Crimson is too busy studying their forms to bother introducing himself, so Rarity turns her gaze to her friends, taking it upon herself to do it for him. “Ahem,” she clears her throat, getting the attention of everyone in the room. She trots to the man's side, “Crimson, darling, these lovely ladies before you would like to introduce themselves. Correct?” she asks demandingly, receiving a mess of clumsy murmurs.

“Yes, uh… hello,” the purple unicorn speaks. She feels the weight of the human’s eyes plaster her, he stares with what she interprets is annoyance and displeasure. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. It’s very nice to meet you, mister… um…”

“Crimson Sky,” he finishes for her. “—Hnh?” he finds himself recoiling back suddenly when the pink pony turns into a streak of lines, appearing directly in front of him but inches away.

“I’m Pinkie Pie! Welcome to Equestria!” she says, bouncing up and down to meet him at eyelevel over and over. Crimson’s eyes follow her movements, making his irises look like they’re jumping up and down in their sockets. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Ahaha! True! Can I ask you another question? D’oh, wait, that’s also a question! What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“… Vanilla,” he replies boredly.

Pinkie stops bouncing. Her expression becomes very serious, it seems like her mind is trying to process his answer, undergoing a series of mental laps as she is fitting the word into plans and ideas. … Everyone stares at the suddenly-idle pink mare in confusion… until she returns her eyes and smiles back up at human. “A classic! Okie-dokie-lokie! It’s super great to meet you, mister Crimson!”

“Just Crimson.”

“Sooo…” the rainbow-colored mare gently pushes Pinkie to the side, making herself the front-view of his sight while simultaneously giving him a scrupulous look. She sizes him down from head to toe, focusing finally on his face. “You’re the human thingy?”

“You see any others around?”

Rainbow squints at his sarcastic reply. “Gh—hey!” Her face takes on further annoyance when she is pushed aside also, this time by the unenthused orange pony with the cowboy hat.

“Pardon Rainbow Dash, she’s a tad cranky at the moment. Name’s Applejack, pleasure to meet’cha, Crimson.”

“Yeah, pleasure,” he repeats, glancing between all of them again. Their expressions are subtly different now that he's actually talking, in a good way.

Fluttershy understandably hasn’t moved, since she doesn’t need to reintroduce herself. She has a slightly worried energy about her, where Rarity has a more confident and eager appearance. Twilight, Applejack, and Pinkie are both smiling to varying degrees, but Rainbow Dash is still squinting at him.

“Now that we’re all properly acquainted,” Twilight begins, “may I be the first to say—"

“Humans are tall!” Pinkie bursts suddenly. “You’re like… three Pinkies tall! Or two standing Pinkies tall!” she vocalizes the last sentence as she stands up onto her hindlegs, balancing on them in such an erratic and unnatural manner.

“Them clothes’r interesting,” Applejack states with a grin. “Are ya’ sure Rarity whipped up that get-up for you?”

“What are you implying?” the snowy unicorn frowns.

“Don’t worry your head none, sugarcube," she hums to Rarity, "I ain’t bustin’ yer britches, I’m just askin’ ‘cuz it ain’t anythin’ like you’d usually make. It’s too simple to believe this was your doin’.”

“Simple is what he wanted. Right, dear?” Rarity directs her unsureness towards the man.

“Yeah. These clothes were my idea.”

“They're simple and straight to the point," Applejack lifts her hat a bit higher. "I like simple and straight to the point.”

Rarity visibly drops a bit of stress upon hearing approval of her work, smiling at the man. Her smile slowly fades when she realizes something, “… Darling? Why is your white shirt already covered in dirt? And your ‘jeans’ as well!”

“… I was taking a walk outside and I fell.”

“Not surprising,” Dash comments abruptly. Crimson shifts his sharp eyes to her, raising his left brow to signal an elaboration.

“Rainbow Dash…” Applejack glances up at her disapprovingly.

“What? I mean, come on! Look at him! Something on two legs with that much mass and no tail is bound to be a walking disaster! How do you even keep balance?” she asks the man directly.

“With my feet,” Crimson retorts swiftly.

“Obviously they’re not good enough if you ‘fell' while walking outside.”

“Aaanywho,” Applejack blurts, cutting Dash off from further speech, “I reckon this is the part where Twilight gives you the run-down about what the future entails for ya’.”

Everyone’s attention is given the purple pony, letting her finally continue. “As I was saying before I was interrupted,” Twilight fixes her unamused face to give the human a more light-hearted expression, “may I be the first to say, welcome to Equestria.”

“But I was the first to say it!” Pinkie exclaims.

Twilight's face falls back into annoyance. “… May I be the SECOND to say, welcome to Equestria. We are all aware of your current situation, and you have our deepest sympathies. If you would allow us, we’d like to help you on your journey back home. There are many fields of research I wish to study, and some of those involve anomalous occurrences such as your sudden arrival to Equestria. Aiding you in returning to your world will also benefit our knowledge of magic and science, so everyone wins!”

“Yeah, that sounds good," Crimson nods. "Fluttershy said you were the expert in magic stuff.”

“Hehehe, expert maaay be a bit of a stretch, but I am definitely well-informed on the matter!”

“Great,” he vocalizes with satisfaction, giving his expression a bit of softness. “You have an estimation on how long it’d take you to figure out how to get me back home?”

“I, uhm…” Twilight’s ears fall onto her head, “… don’t.” Crimson’s face returns to its serious demeanor, and Twilight notices this immediately, “B-But I don’t think it would take very long! Especially now that we’re able to work hooves-on with the problem. I promise you we will help you return home as soon as possible, maybe within the week.”

"A week… a WEEK!? WE'RE FUCKIN' STUCK HERE FOR A WEEK!?"

“BuUuUut!” Pinkie, like some eldritch anomaly, appears directly above Crimson, hovering above him upside down while using nothing to maintain herself there. “In the meantime while Twilight does the magic doo-dads, we can make your temporary stay in Equestria super exciting!”

“How’re you doing that?” Crimson points his index finger at her impossibly-suspended form.

“… Doing what?” she looks down at herself. After her self-realization, she plummets towards the ground, caught by the human who quickly took a step back and held out both arms. She squirms happily in his hold, giggling to herself.

She’s really soft, and kind of warm. For something that’s supposed to resemble a horse, she doesn’t feel has hard and firm as one. She’s a bit squishy and tender... and kind of greasy. And she smells odd.

“Wooo! Nice catch! Let’s do it again!” Pinkie leaps up from his hold and somersaults in the air, falling back down onto his arms. “WeeEeeeEeee!” her wobbly emissions match her recurring bouncing and falling as she repeatedly makes the man catch her over and over.

“Pinkie!" Rarity sternly calls, "cease this immature display immediately!”

“Awww… yes, ma’am,” Pinkie sighs despondently… but smiles again and bounces herself one more time off of his arms, flipping in the air and landing onto her four legs next to Fluttershy like some sort of master of acrobatics. The yellow pegasus recoils in fear at being hit by the falling pink mass, but is relieved to be safe from harm.

Twilight sees that Crimson doesn’t appear amused by Pinkie’s actions, so she clears her throat and continues, “As Pinkie Pie was saying, we’re not only here to help you get home, but we would also like to openly invite you to enjoy your time while you’re here. We couldn’t understand the frustration of being unwillingly misplaced, but please know that we’re here to make your stay pleasant!”

Crimson’s eyes fall to the ground, and after some pondering, he lifts his gaze to Twilight. “A week, huh.”

“Somewhere around that time-frame,” Twilight nods bashfully.

“Is there a place where I can find some work? I need to get myself a temporary stay if I’m gonna be here this long.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Twilight smiles, “we’ll have you covered on that front. See, our plan is to show you around Ponyville and help you become familiar with the world that’s currently around you. There’s no better ponies to do that than the girls you see right here,” she extends her hoof to the side, presenting her group of friends. Their expressions vary, but Rainbow Dash’s stands out the most. Her mouth puckers and her eyes look away, seeming quite disinterested. “Each day of the week, starting tomorrow, we would like you to spend the day with one of us so we can show you around. We’ll worry about giving you a place to rest. This is also a great opportunity to extend our hoof in friendship, and let you get to know us better, as well as allowing us get to know you better.” Crimson stares down at her without responding, his shiftless face drives disconcert into Twilight. “… U-Um… does… that sound alright with you?”

"Is this really alright with you all?” he asks while glancing between them all. “I’d rather not get in anyone’s way.”

“It’s completely alright with me,” Twilight affirms.

“And me!” Pinkie calls. “I’m excited for my turn! When’s my turn?”

“Pinkie does bring up a good point,” Applejack looks to Twilight, “I’m ripe with the idea, but what’s the schedule lookin’ like? This'd go a lot smoother if we got a plan laid out.”

“… Hm,” Twilight’s taps her chin and her eyes glance around the room quickly, stopping at the tin containers found neatly stacked on Fluttershy’s coffee table. “Rarity?”

“Yes, darling?” she blinks twice.

“Would you mind if I used some of your charcoal and paper to make a raffle?”

“Oh why, that’s a splendid idea! Do help yourself.”

Twilight’s horn begins to glow with soft, twinkling purple magic. Crimson can’t keep his eyes from the surreal sight, watching as objects become encased by the ethereal essence and move around without physical contact.

Twilight opens a tin box, and luckily enough, it had the materials for writing in it. She levitates a stick of charcoal out along with a piece of paper. She rips the paper up into six equal sections, proceeding to write down the name of each pony in its own piece.

Applejack is quick to offer her hat for the raffle, and Twilight takes it thankfully. She takes the hat into her magic and holds it upside down, folding each piece of paper in half and placing them inside. The brown farm hat is levitated towards Crimson, ready for him to take it.

When he takes ahold of the hat, the magical aura holding it disperses. He stares down at the folded papers inside, then he lifts his gaze to the mares. “You all sure about this?” A menagerie of nods and hums respond to his question… except for maybe the rainbow colored one.

Crimson places his hand to cover the hat’s hole and shakes it so the names get scattered. He then reaches inside, taking a name out and reading the-- … “…” Crimson resists the urge to ride his palm into his face. He had completely forgotten that he’s unable to read their written language, where even things as simple as names are nothing but scribbles and runes. “… Yeah, uh, I can’t read your language,” he says, staring at Twilight.

“… You can’t?” Twilight asks incredulously, to which he shakes his head. The studious side of Twilight nearly bursts from her chest, finding overwhelming excitement in this phenomenon. “So many questions, so little time!” she murmurs to herself, taking the little paper from Crimson’s fingers into her magic and she levitates it towards herself. “Ahem. So, the first name is…” she squints, reading her own semi-sloppy writing.

The ponies around wait anxiously. None of them had planned for Twilight to come up with such an idea, but they’re rolling with it anyway. Rarity and Fluttershy seem a bit excited, but not as much as Pinkie. Applejack has an unreadable, blank expression, in contrast to Dash’s visible lack of excitement.

“Rarity,” Twilight calls with a smile. The white unicorn glances up at the man, smiling at him wryly, and he returns a nod of acknowledgement. Twilight proceeds to draw the next name. “… Pinkie Pie.”

“WOOOO! I got him Muuuhnday, I got him Muuuhnday!~” she sings while standing up, rhythmically bringing her forehooves in circles to and from her chest.

“Applejack,” Twilight reads off.

“Righty’o,” the orange mare nods. “Hope you’re good at handlin’ farm work.”

Crimson’s brows raise, “… Farm work? … Yeah, I can do that.” Applejack nods firmly at him, smiling with equal fortitude.

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight calls next.

“Ch,” Rainbow squints and crosses her forearms across her chest.

“… Is there something wrong, Dash?” Twilight tilts her head.

“Well, it’s just that, Wednesdays are my training days!”

“Aren’t EVERYdays your trainin’ days? I’m sure you’ll figure somethin’ out,” Applejack glares at her distastefully. Rainbow turns her eyes away dismissively.

“Me!” Twilight calls happily. “Thursdays are usually my slowest days, so this is perfect! And finally, Fluttershy for Friday.”

The timid pegasus nods in acknowledgement, seeming unbothered with her place in line.

“… Wait,” Crimson says, staring at Twilight seriously. “… Where am I supposed to go during Saturday? Will you have it all figured out by then or what?”

“… Well, um—” Twilight begins, but Fluttershy speaks up before she can elaborate.

“I-I don’t mind if you stay in my cottage. There’s an extra room that I can use that’s currently storage and make it a bedroom, just for you. It's upstairs, just in front of my room. It'll be much better than the futon!”

“As do I, darling,” Rarity speaks up with the same wry smile as before. “I have an extra room at my boutique that I seldom use for anything but storage as well. I would not mind renovating it to accommodate for your nighttime needs.”

“…” Crimson moves his eyes between the two mares and their separate offers. “… I’ll, uh… think about it for a bit before I decide. Thanks you two.”

Fluttershy and Rarity both nod happily. Rainbow Dash, caught by the corner of Crimson’s vision, rolls her eyes and turns her head away.

Ignoring this, the man walks towards Applejack and returns her hat to her, receiving a “much obliged” from her.

“That appears to settle that!” Twilight says. “Crimson, since you don’t really know your way around yet, the pony you’re spending the day with will come for you in the morning, which means Rarity should show up at Fluttershy’s front door tomorrow, and so on. Do you have any questions or concerns? Please feel free to ask me or any one of the girls for help.”

“I’m good for now.”

“Great! I need to head back and finish up some research.”

“’N I’ve gotten behind on my harvest,” Applejack states, “so I’ll be makin’ my exit too.”

“As we all should,” Rarity says as she looks out of the front door window, seeing the sun already dipping over the horizon. “It is getting rather late.”

Twilight looks up at the man with a small, warm smile. “We’ll try our best to help you out, Crimson.”

“Thanks,” he utters without a change in face. The ponies, except Fluttershy of course, make their exit from the cottage and return to their respective homes.

Fluttershy tilts her head in confusion, “… That’s odd.” She looks around the chicken pen, seeing that eggs are collected and placed in the collection basket she has hanging on the side of the pen. The flakes inside are also cleaned and renewed. “The bird houses have feed, the chicken coop has new flakes, and the yard is clean…” She whispers quietly to herself as she walks across the grass in her backyard, turning her head left and right. “… But I didn’t remember doing any of it. Did I?”

A gentle breeze blows, it cools the summer evening and sways her flowing pink mane. The peace and calm of nature fills the world around her, just as she loves it. Crickets are commencing their chirps and distant wildlife coos and howls into the amber sky. Everything seems to be in perfect order. If there’s chaos magic about, she certainly isn’t seeing it anywhere near her.

Still, she's befuddled. An entire day’s worth of work done, and she doesn’t remember doing any of it.

Stumped out of an answer, and with no chores to be done, she walks back into her cottage through the kitchen door. She gently closes it, keeping in mind Crimson is laying down on the futon in the living room nearby. She isn’t sure if he’s asleep yet, but she’s cautious anyway.

He has been quiet the entire time after the girls left, he hasn’t uttered a word or asked a single question. She had asked him a few things, like what he thinks of Twilight’s plan or what he thinks of the girls, but his responses where vague and terribly simple. She isn’t one to press on others, so she figured giving him some space would be the best approach.

She walks towards the archway that leads to the living room, peeking only her head past it. She sees the man sitting down crisscross on the futon. … He’s doing that thing where he stares at the door again. He was like that before she went outside to do her chores, and he hasn’t moved a muscle aside from blinking. This attitude of his draws discomfort into her heart, she can’t assume that acting like this is normal for humans, or any living being for that matter, but she isn’t sure what to do about it.

She steps backwards, receding into the dimly lit kitchen again. Her eyes glance around as she thinks, wondering if she should approach him or just go upstairs. Her lips purse in thought. She weights the pros and cons of each decision. Maybe he’ll be more willing to talk in the morning? Perhaps a good night’s rest will help him.

“…?” Her brows raise when she sees something rather unusual. The copious amounts of eaten fruits filling her waste bin in the kitchen is already odd, but a crumbled-up paper that sits atop of the pile of fruit cores and banana peels pulls her attention. It’s the same color and texture as Rarity’s sketch paper, the one Twilight used to raffle the names.

Fluttershy leans down and takes the paper into her mouth, taking it towards the island of her kitchen. She sets it down, using her hooves to uncrumple the paper and straighten it out. She sees marks of slightly-smudged charcoal forming bodies of… words. Maybe. She isn’t sure what she’s looking at, but the spacing of the markings and the order in the way they appear makes her believe it’s written text.

It clicks in her head at what this might be, remembering the little interaction Crimson had with Twilight about written language.

Now she actually does have a reason to approach him. She takes the paper into her lips, walking steadily towards the still human. Upon her soft hoofsteps nearing his side, Crimson moves his eyes slightly to look at her general direction. Fluttershy steps into his view, letting him see what she holds.

His brows raise and he reaches his hand out towards the paper, and she willingly lets him take it from her mouth. He looks down at the paper in his hand, then back up to Fluttershy.

“I-Is… that yours?” the timid mare asks.

“… Yeah.”

“… May I ask what it is?” she humbly lowers her head, trying to appear as least intrusive as possible.

“… Just, uh…” Crimson squints at the list, debating a response. Fluttershy stays completely silent as he formulates an answer. He stares at her, the yellow pegasus before him. The look in her eye is so terribly innocent, and he'd go as far to assume that no matter what kind of bullshit lie he makes up, she'd believe him fully. After a moment, he sighs and sets the paper down while his eyes fixate on nothing. “… A chore list.”

The yellow mare’s eyes grow wide. She uses her hoof to move her pink hair out of her face, staring at him with unobstructed vision. “… Crimson?” His eyes shift over to meet hers. Miraculously, she doesn’t look away. She keeps her eyes firmly planted on his. “… Did you do my chores for me?”

“… Yeah.”

“How did you get so much work done so quickly?”

“… I, uh…” he scratches the back of his head, recalling his actions. “… Don’t worry about it.” The response is met with brief silence.

Suddenly, Fluttershy leans in and hugs him firmly with a wide smile, coupling her small, soft body onto him. Her soft, tender cheek presses itself against his, and her firm hooves wrap around his body, seemingly knowing where the place themselves as to not touch any of his major wounds.

Crimson doesn’t react, he remains completely still, taking the hug and feeling the warm embrace of this small, whimsical being. The sensation doesn’t even feel real.

She breaks the hug slowly, leaving her hooves at his shoulders and smiling with her ears resting on her head. “… Thank you very much.”

“Don’t thank me. Consider it a favor.”

“A… favor?”

“Yeah. For taking me in and helping me, giving me a place to sleep and all. … It was real kind of you... one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Ever.”

Fluttershy’s irises wobble slightly, they lose the fortitude to look him directly back into his. She drops from his shoulders and finds something else to look at, and her cheeks visibly tint pink when she fails to reply to his sudden appreciation.

“I’m cashing out for the night,” Crimson calls tiredly, spreading his legs out from their crossed position and resting down on his back. “G’night, Fluttershy.”

The yellow mare’s heart beats in her ears. She watches him shuffle into a comfortable laying position, resting flat on his back just as he has done before. She wants to ask a hundred things, but not one of them makes it out of her mouth. The only response she gives is, “Goodnight… Crimson.” She sees his eyes close, and just like that, it seems like he’s out cold already.

… After standing there, looking at him for an unknown length of time, she walks quietly towards and up the stairs, getting ready for bed.

As she lies under the sheets, snuggling with herself, she can’t help but smile. She didn’t exactly know what to expect when taking the dying human into her home, but she had a feeling he was a nice person. In her mind, the distant demeanor and expressionless face are simply fronts that hide the caring and good nature inside. Now, she finds it a shame that she won’t see him tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day… all the way until Friday. She wants to get to know him better, and understand why he is the way he is.

As sleep begins to drag her in, she exhales through her nose and relaxes. The other girls will probably have a great time with him, and maybe he’ll be more open by the time Friday rolls around.