Luna's moon sat idly in the sky. Millions of stars twinkled around it, dancing through in the night. Wisps of cloud slowly drifted overhead, unattended by the Pegasus of Ponyville. Mists hung on the town like a thin blanket. The cool air was enough to chill anyone who stepped outside. Then again, few ponies would be awake this time of night. No one ever seemed to pay attention to the beauty of darkness.
The mist slowly parted around one pony, walking down the street. It was uneven and dirty, almost forgotten. Few ponies lived in this part of town anymore. It was too close to the Everfree, too close to the unknown.
His head was hung low, wings tucked in close. His grey sweater flapped quietly in the breeze. It was the same color as His coat. His mane hung down, dampened by the thick mist. Even with His jacket, He shivered as he walked. The few houses that surrounded Him were small, their paint fading. All the ponies that had been there to maintain them had long since left. He lifted his head slightly, and looked back towards the town. Even this far away, on one of the country roads leading outwards, the soft glow of candles in the library and other buildings could be seen. He stopped for a moment. The light, even from this far away, felt... warm.
He turned away and trudged on, head drooping towards the ground. Even the night's mist couldn't catch the tear the fell from His eye.
At the end of the old, forgotten lane lay a house slightly better off than it's neighbors. The shutters didn't droop, the paint was fresh, and the color scheme was only moderately gloomy. It was alone. So much better for it's inhabitant. The door creaked as He opened it, the hinges unoiled for decades. Papers hung from the walls, lay scattered across the floor, and blew about in the wind. The broken windows did little to settle their flight. He walked through the cacophony of paper without heeding it. He climbed the broken stairs, jumping nimbly past the crumbled or unsteady parts. Another creaky door opened, admitting Him into the bedroom.
A thin, dirty mattress lay in the corner. It had shaggy, torn blankets piled about one end, where they had been thrown in a fit of terror. He slowly moved past it, coming to rest at an angled wooden desk. Stacks of paper lay scattered about it, all blank. Colorful inkwells sat on the most even part of the table. He turned away, ashamed.
Across from him sat the only other piece of furniture in the room. A large, moldy set of large drawers. On top rested a small blade, with a folded piece of paper atop it. The paper fluttered in the wind, but didn't blow away. It was anchored, somehow.
He walked towards the piece, and unfolded it like He did every night. Even as his legs itched and burned, he read the phrase that was seared into His mind through His own will: "Not tonight." He folded the paper back up, and replaced it on top of his knife. He paused, struggling within himself.
The door to His room blew back open, and He pulled away. The floor creaked as He moved back towards the stairs. He had removed the walls surrounding them long ago, and glided slowly down. There was no reason for the stairs to be so long. Long ago, He had thought that the house's builder had wanted a nice little trek in the morning to get to his breakfast. Any such fantasies had passed a long time ago, and now the stairs were another simple nuisance.
As he reached the bottom, a piece of paper whipped into his face. He blinked and looked at it, but it was blown away before he could fully see it. He remembered it well enough. A rainbow trail over a sunset, with a small mach cone forming around somepony near a mountain's range. One of his first drawings of Rainbow Dash. It was magnificent, beautiful, and could rival any of the pieces in even the most prestigious Canterlot galleries. It blew back into the storm of papers, crumpled and ripped by wind, rain, and other art. He stepped through it all, ignoring anything that came near him and crushing any pieces that lay underhoof.
The kitchen was as bare as the rest of the house, and just as forlorn. The shelves drooped, and many of the cabinet doors were missing or broken. Empty bottles were scattered around the room, and all the bottles with liquid still in them had been pushed into a corner. He grabbed one of those bottles, a half-empty glass of Applejack Daniel's. It was empty almost too soon. He turned back towards the mayhem of the living room. Even with all the art fluttering in the wind, the pieces he had nailed to the wall were easily visible. He looked to the left side.
Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash... All of the Element Bearers could be seen dozens of times. The entire wall was covered with their portraits, doing everything. Normal activities, acts of heroism, and a few less... displayable things. He had painted them just as he had seen them. He had followed them often, watching. They had something that he wanted, something that he had been searching for, something that had destroyed him once... They had friendship. They had life.
He looked towards the right wall. There no color, no distinction between pieces. The white faded into black, the black softened into grey, and the grey brightened to white. Tendrils of darkness, notes of pain, images of suffering... Everything that He knew how to express were drawn onto those portraits. Some had characters, some where of himself, but most were simply shapes of emotion. They all shared one common factor: darkness.
He turned back to the kitchen and reached for another bottle. Gray Pegasus Vodka. He picked it up, but didn't drink. Instead, He turned back through the flurry of papers and closed the shutters. The wind inside dwindled until the papers barely stirred. He climbed back up the stairs, went into his room, and reached for the desk. He pulled a feather from the underside of his wing, bit off part of the base, and began to sketch. He would pause occasionally to drink, but he continued all through the night.
When the sun's first like slowly crept over the horizon, it found Him drawing in His bed, the covers drawn haphazardly over of him. Tears stained some of the pieces, but He piled them all next to himself. When He finally put down the makeshift quill, almost twenty drawings lay next to him. He got back up, grabbed the pieces and the bottle, and jumped out the back window. He landed next to a black, empty pit in the otherwise overgrown yard. The papers were balled up and thrown in. He took one last swig of vodka, then dumped the rest on the papers.
Slowly, the ashes drifted into the sunrise while He slept in the warmth of the fire.
The soft strumming of a country guitar was the warmest sound in the bar. There weren't any thugs, or really any bad ponies at all, in Ponyville. Still, Potbelly's Parasprite was were they would meet if they existed. The place was an old, creaky building with dim lighting and few patrons. The only thing bigger than the rack of booze was the bartender's belly. Hence, Potbelly. He sat behind the bar all day, looking sour and talking gruffly. Even the music matched the place.
Caramel, the town's blacksmith, sat at the bar talking with Thunderlane, one of the weather team's pegasi. They were part of the usual crowd, though many of the ponies preferred to keep to themselves. Even after years of sulking in the bar, He couldn't learn their names. The crowd was small compared to the size of the bar, but large enough to produce a dull hum of quiet conversation.
In the darkest corner of the bar, furthest from the warmth of the fire, sat a grey pegasus. He wore a grey hoodie and drank from a worn mug. He sat alone, His front hooves wrapped around the drink. There were a few other ponies scattered through the bar, mostly acting the same. If you walked in, you would probably expect someone to get on stage after the musician and read bad poetry. That only happened on Tuesdays, though, so the patrons were safe for now.
The jingle of bells announced new customers, and everypony looked up to see who had arrived. As quickly as they looked up, they went back to their drinks. A certain cyan pegasus was a common sight, and no one was surprised to see her. Her date, a certain purple alicorn, was only slightly less know at the Parasprite. She got dragged along when Rainbow wanted to have a drink and Twilight at the same time. Rainbow ordered a drink for herself and her date, then sat down with Twilight by the fire. She had someone to be with, which was more than could be said for anyone else in the bar. Especially the grey pegasus in the corner nearest to the couple.
He had moved when they came in, knowing where they would sit. The way the firelight was cast on them, blending Dash's rainbow mane with Twilight's purple coat, was beautiful. It would make a nice painting. If He had color, any color at all, He would paint it. Then again, Rainbow flying was beautiful as well... It was all she talked about, all she did, and all her life was, really. That being said, at least she had a purpose.
They spoke quietly, and the low murmuring around the bar slowly came back. They were easy enough to ignore for those who wanted to ignore them. Anyone who wanted to pay attention, however, had a harder time. They almost whispered, and it strained the eavesdropping pegasus' sharp ears to make out the words. Something about Rainbow having weather duty near the Everfree, and weird stuff happening there. Twilight seemed bothered by the strangeness, but Rainbow took a while to notice. She was pretty dense at times. When Rainbow finally noticed and asked what was wrong, Twilight paused.
Twilight's explanations always went over everypony else's heads, but Rainbow tried her best to look interested. There was something about a gate in the Everfree, other worlds, evil, dark magic, secrecy, and other technicalities. Nothing that Celestia would want anypony to know, but Twilight trusted Rainbow Dash. Rainbow was the element of Loyalty, after all. She would never betray the secrets of her friends or of Equestria. Other ponies, however, were less trustworthy. And more inclined to eavesdrop on conversations. He had sat in his corner, quietly listening and trying to understand. Despite the intricacy of the explanation, He understood most of it.
There was a power in the Forest, something that made it so unnatural. A gate, like some sort of door, that could lead to places. It was impossible to find, impossible to open, and impossible to use. It had existed for long before Celestia and Luna, or even Discord. It was a relic of the Elder Gods, a testimony to their mastery of the cosmos. Even when sealed and magically bound by Celestia herself, it emanated power. The gate would destroy any who tried to use it, and anyone lucky enough to survive would find themselves in an entirely different reality.
Twilight finally fell silent, her lecture having covered, to her, the most important basics. Rainbow blinked a few times, then laughed. Twilight was confused for a moment, but started laughing with her. She had been talking for more than an hour, and Rainbow had had more than a couple drinks. They kissed briefly, then went back to irrelevant chatter. Something about a misplaced thundercloud and missing mail.
He slipped out of the bar without paying his tab, content with the knowledge that the Everfree held an opportunity. An opportunity for a fresh start, for Him to move on. To finally gain what had been lost to him. Twilight had given to Him the very thing that had been taken so long ago; a chance at life.
The hoodie He wore, and had always worn, was more than unnecessary in the heat. The weather team had decided to make it overly humid, for some reason incomprehensible to anyone outside of their ranks. He was sweat as He slowly flew back to his home, but the hoodie was too essential too take off. Cal it sentiment, call it obsession, call it what you will. He never removed it, not when there was a single soul around to see. Despite the fact that no one ever really bothered to look. Not for a singe, nondescript pegasus flying through the night.
