Falling

by JN

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Alternate Universe
Length: 6034

When your entire world is breaking apart and the edges of your reality are blurred, sometimes all you need is helping hand to keep from falling.

When your entire world is breaking apart and the edges of your reality are blurred, sometimes all you need is helping hand to keep from falling.

This time, let's look at a story about a tragedy and a school of magic.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-18 03:54:43 UTC

00: [REDACTED]

Two different shades of red dance before my eyes:

The scorching brilliance of hot flame and the maroon of spilled blood.

It's hot, excruciatingly so. My entire body feels scalded, charred by some unknown, intense heat. The flames that burn on the ground next to me beat on me like rays from the sun. Smoke is in my mouth, my eyes, my entire body, and I cough - which in turn, makes my chest blaze with pain.

With a shaky hand, I try to level myself and stand. But it's difficult. Something inside of me feels broken, an aching that feels both physical and metaphysical. There's some kind of wound to my left leg rendering me incapable of standing - I pick up a lengthy piece of steel that had broken off the.. something, and used it as leverage.

I struggled to rise nearly a dozen times.

And I looked around, panting. I was under a roof of some sorts, inside of a building. But everything was in ruins - there was a train, laying on it's side, pieces of concrete and steel and debris everywhere and.. the people. Human beings, trapped under pieces of cement, under segments of steel, or just lying there, motionless and sprawled across the rough ground.

And the maroon. The blood. It was everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on the people, the maroon of spilled blood.

I coughed again - No, I retched. It took all I had not to vomit on the spot - the stench of death in the air, singed by smoke and flames, reeked worse than anything in the world.

Then something - no, someone caught my eye. Two of them.

A man and a woman. They were collapsed under a large section of debris, looking as if their final moments were spent trying to reach for me. I stared at the two motionless corpses with fearful eyes.

I knew them. But how?

I realized my vision was getting blurry again - I reached up and wiped my eyes. They were wet - but it wasn't raining. That was impossible. We were inside, inside of a building..

I fell to my knees, still using the steel bar for support so I wouldn't collapse completely as I tried to keep focus on the two figures. And then, all too suddenly, I knew who they were, and what had happened.

The scalding heat of the subway station turned to ice cold in an instant. Completely beside myself with shock, I shivered.

They died. They weren't breathing anymore, nothing told me they still had any life in them.

Mother. Father.

Both of them were dead.

I'm going to die now too.

I could still feel the trembling of the ground as the rest of the building's support began to collapse. My breathing was shallow, and every breath I took felt like a knife skewering my lungs. I lost grip on the steel bar, and I fell, my ribs stinging upon contact with the ground, but I didn't resist.

With a final effort, I turned and lay on my back, tears dripping from my eyes like a wine cup overflowing with drink, facing the shaking, trembling ceiling.

To me, even it seemed scared. I reached out towards it with one hand, hoping to reassure it in it's discomfort -

And it cracked. It cracked and chipped and broke and fell to many pieces. A particularly large piece of the concrete foundation started getting closer and closer to me, in very slow motion.

My outstretched hand fell to my side.

I couldn't even find the strength to keep my eyes open any longer. Slowly, but surely, I let them fall.

And I saw two different shades of red dance from behind my eyelids;

The scalding brilliance of hot flame, the maroon of spilled blood -

And something else, too. Another color, faint at first but growing brighter and more intense.

This color didn't reek of death nor threaten to burn - it was soft, kind, and loving. A mysteriously calming mixture of pink and violet cast a wave of comfort over me as if to say, "everything will be okay."

But I couldn't hear it speak.

After all, I was already gone.

01: Memento Mori

Falling

Prologue: You Are Naught but Mortal

By Nuej

RIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

..I woke up to the shrill scream of an alarm clock.

That same nightmare.

It haunted me. I don't hesitate when I say that, seeing as I rarely passed a night without seeing that vision once more. Every time I was forced to look upon that scene, I felt a bit of myself become less and lesser. Nothing, not even time, will ever change the fact that I'll never forget, never get over that memory.

I laid in bed, staring at the blandly white ceiling, the clock still ringing quit loudly. She was right - it did it's job pretty well. I sighed, wishing for more sleep, leaned over, and stretched out my hand to silence that accursed object..

A little further.. a little bit more..

Thud.

My desire to remain in bed betrayed me as an uneven shift in weight caused me to fall to the floor of the bedroom. My forehead and a few other places groaned with pain, but my hand had conveniently fallen on the "snooze" button of the clock.

In that moment, if it were up to me, I would crawl back into my bed and sleep for another five minutes.. or hours. But I was already up, and there was no point in falling asleep again just to wake up an hour or so later. Thus, I steadily rose to my feet.

Now, then - A few months ago, I'd been told that due to the severe conditions, I'd contracted trauma. Let's see if I can remember the whole speech.

Psychological trauma is a type of damage to the psyche that occurs as a result of a traumatic event. When that trauma leads to post traumatic stress disorder, and damage may involve physical changes inside the brain and to brain chemistry, which changes the person's future response to stress and emotional tear.

On the tips of my toes, I reached for the ceiling of the room I resided in, warming up whatever strength I had left in my muscles..

A traumatic event involves a single experience, or an enduring or repeating event or events, that completely overwhelm the individual's ability to cope or integrate the ideas and emotions involved with that experience. The sense of being overwhelmed can be delayed by weeks, years or even decades, as the person struggles to cope with the immediate circumstances. Psychological trauma can lead to serious long-term negative consequences that are often overlooked even by mental health professionals. Trauma can be caused by a wide variety of events, but there are a few common aspects. There is frequently a violation of the person's familiar ideas about the world and of their human rights, putting the person in a state of extreme confusion and insecurity. This is also seen when people or institutions, depended on for survival, violate or betray or disillusion the person in some unforeseen way.

I opened the shades of the room. Still dark out, huh? The clock did read 5:48 AM..

Psychological trauma may accompany physical trauma or exist independently of it. Typical causes and dangers of psychological trauma are sexual abuse, bullying, domestic violence, indoctrination, or being the victim of an alcoholic parent. Catastrophic events such as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, war or other mass violence can also cause psychological trauma. The doctors were afraid that this is what happened to me, and to be honest, I thought the same thing for a while. Long-term exposure to situations such as extreme poverty or milder forms of abuse, such as verbal abuse, can be traumatic. Decently enough, the cause of this was not from any of the above, though, perhaps my situation would be a little easier to analyze if that was so.

However, different people will react differently to similar events. One person may experience an event as traumatic while another person would not suffer trauma as a result of the same event. In other words, not all people who experience a potentially traumatic event will actually become psychologically traumatized. The doctors still aren't sure whether I have that sort of case. I'd like to think so myself.

Even so, this wasn't the best sleep I'd ever enjoyed - but it was my first night here, and the nightmare I just had only punctuated my discomfort. After stretching, I pulled myself away from the bed, staggering slightly, various parts of my arms and torso heavy with fatigue as I, like an idiot, bumped into the nearest wall. The room was still dark, so you could hardly blame me for that..

My eyes adjusted. I was now provided a clearer view of the room I was in. Pretty silly for me to forget what it looked like, but I was disoriented when I fell asleep, and I needed the moment to collect my thoughts. For a first, I went over to the other side of the wall, next to the door, and switched the lights on to avoid further injury. The interior of my room was showered in a decor of dull, washed over, beige shades in amounts so dangerous that it almost bragged of it - that, and a bit of pink. It was to be expected, I guess. After all, this was a girl's dormitory.

It wasn't like I had any monumental, physical problems with that.

It just hurt my pride a bit.

.. well, they did have male dormitories, didn't they? Why was it that I wasn't placed into one of those? I felt strangely as if the school was categorizing me as something that's not male, and that felt demeaning if only a little bit.. so why?

I answered my own question seconds later - the only reason I was here was because they wanted her to keep track of me.

Oh, you're probably wondering who "they" are..

Suddenly, a light rapping noise reverberated against the door.

"Colt? Are you alright?"

My head now light enough to regulate normal thoughts, I instantly recognized that voice. My roommate from across the hall.. um, what was the name now? Despite having cleared my head, I still wasn't used to being up this early. I could still feel fatigue working on my joints, and on my mind..

I turned the doorknob, pulled the door open.

What greeted me was the sight of a slightly disheveled looking girl in her teens; a messy, uncombed, purple mass of hair trailing behind her neck, complimenting a pair of very violet eyes and a milky, light brown complexion. Complete with a slender yet mature figure, the girl was probably what registered in most people's books as a "beauty" - however, there wasn't really a need to say that kind of thing to her face. She must have been even sleepier than I was, not even noticing that her pajama top was disturbed. Enough so that I could blatantly see all the places where her bra and bare skin were exposed from her sleepwear.

I blinked once, slowly.

This girl's name was Twilight Sparkle.

"..."

I lacked proper words, a little ashamed that it took a piece of undergarment to spark my memory.

She, on the other hand, spoke immediately, her speech still retaining it's ladylike, respectable tone - slightly slurred, though, by her early morning fatigue.

"I heard a noise," Twilight said weakly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I responded hurriedly, my voice slightly hoarse. "Sorry to have bothered you."

She smiled weakly, rubbing her tired eyes while straightening her back importantly. The juxtaposition was strangely cute.

"It's alright," the purple-haired youth said confidently, "after all, it's my job to see to your daily needs while you're staying on campus!"

I couldn't help but smile at that.

"I guess I'm still in your care for the time being, huh?"

I spoke nonchalantly, but even as I did so, alarm bells were going off in my head.

Her disheveled top (the faint tease of a cleavage was there..) and below (the bottom button of her pajama shirt had come undone; a sliver of what was unmistakably a girl's smooth belly could be seen..), the sight of it all was really starting to..

..Not good. Is this the uni-breast-al law of gravitation in action? I'm getting drawn in like it's the most natural thing in the world. I found myself getting uncharacteristically excited.

No, this isn't me! This is just my hormones at work! I'm not in a life-threatening situation, so stop trying to scout a mate, you depraved cerebrum of mine!

In a supreme act of self-control, I averted my eyes - rather, I turned my head completely in the opposite direction while putting a hand over my eyes, pretending with all my might that the light of the hallway behind Twilight was a little blinding.

"?"

She leaned forwards in my direction, a spark of curiosity in her eyes, unknowingly making the situation just a bit worse.

"Is something the matter? You don't look so hot--"

Before she could finish that thought, Twilight looked down at herself, appearing to understand exactly how disheveled she looked and the answer to the question of what was "the matter."

As a violent red slowly filled her cheeks, I instinctively took a step backwards. Only one childhood incident (in which I had accidentally entered the girl's locker room instead of the boys' in school) was enough to tell me that if I was self conscious about my appearance, that came nowhere near to how a female reacts to being caught off guard. Twilight stood still for a moment, trembling in humiliation. I braced myself for an explosion, for certain death, the end of my physical life on this earth - but she looked up quickly instead with misty eyes and an open mouth that seemed like it wanted very much to say something. I let down my defense, deciding I wasn't in danger, and gingerly raised a single hand in comfort,

"H-hey," I spoke as reassuringly as possible, "it's no big deal, I--"

The door slammed shut. Light, yet strangely heavy footsteps pattered away from the door and down the hallway. I let my hand drop, instantly feeling guilty.

Twilight Sparkle seemed like a well-meaning person whom I had no business bothering.

Above all else, I felt like this "job" of hers wasn't exactly a one she asked for.

I turned away from the door and got dressed.

My name is Colt. I'm 17 years old, 100-and-something lbs. and 5-feet-and-something inches. My ethnicity, as described by my late grandfather, is a patchwork quilt. A great big collage of many different little slivers of influence from all over the place so expansive that I never once bothered to decode it all before.  I hear most of my trademark features come from the Vietnamese side of the family, and that's good enough for me.

Around 6 months ago, during the winter time, my parents died. We were stationed at a subway tram. The freak accident occurred when two trains were derailed due to various discrepancies in railway track. Luckily, the death count didn't total more than 6 or 7 people, with the other two dozen pedestrians in the area hospitalized but alive, including me. Unluckily..

They still remained alive long enough to make it to the hospital, but it all ended there. The damage wasn't treated fast enough, and surgery was out of the question. My mother was already weak from a pre-existing heart condition. I was with them at the time, but I fell unconscious from the blast. My ribs had suffered minor to severe fractures, and a few bones in my left leg snapped quite cleanly. My chest and torso were also subject to terrible, deep bruises and ghastly cuts from the incident - however, even that much damage was minor considering the state that the incident left some patients in. Rest, recovery, and a bit of physical rehabilitation was all I needed on that end - but my trauma was the biggest problem. The nurse had told me I was in sure danger of losing the will to live, my own heart failing at two intervals during my surgery.

Now that I look back on it, that might have very well been true. I hung onto life by a thread in those days.

And in the long months I spent in the hospital afterwards, I wondered constantly what my parents' dying wish would be. Most likely, it would be for my happiness, and for my older sister's. She wasn't there at the time - she taught at a school a train ride away, the reason why me and our parents were present at this incident in the first place, though, I don't blame her for a single thing.

My sister - didn't mention her name, did I?

Everyone calls her Cherilee. What with my late parent's vague hints, I could never truly figure out whether her name was infringing Cherries or the word "cheer." She does like cherries, and is quite cheerful herself. Either way, she was always good to me - not a lot like your average older sister, who'd kick you out of the house for touching her lip gloss or something. Cherilee's something around 5 years older than me - she's already graduated, and has a job, as mentioned earlier, as a teacher.

After I was discharged from the hospital, I wasn't left with a great variety of choices. With both my parents gone, I had no way to support my residence in our old home, even with Cherilee's paycheck and government funding. The only choice I had was moving in with Cherilee up at that school of hers.

It was a distant experience, watching my house cleaned stripped of everything but wood and carpet and paint - fanned, dusted, and set up properly for the next occupant. Everything that was of value was kept, but besides that, nothing remained left of my parents memory save for the few keepsakes I had. Most of the things I owned previously, like furniture, were discarded and sold in order to support me and my sister. The house was gone, and my future lay someplace else.

All the while, I couldn't help thinking the one most blasphemous thought to the victims of this world, the one reverie that should always remain untouched by those who have lost things dear to them;

What if things had been different?

Cherilee lived and taught at a boarding school up in the mountains called Starlight Academy. Unless I wanted to scrounge up my next meals from a dumpster in some desolate alleyway, It was time to get going.

It was going to be a quite a long journey, especially by train. According to the pamphlet, the ride was scheduled to be about eight hours long. I walked along the narrow isle of seats, dragging my things along with me. When I found a comfortable spot somewhere near the back, I deposited my luggage in the space above, in a similar fashion to a passenger on an airplane, and took a seat.

I wiped a thin layer of sweat from my forehead and pocketed my music player. I didn't think music would help me much. All I wanted to do was just sleep until I could see Cherilee again.

I hadn't seen her for months, only having heard her voice in the many telephone calls we shared during my hospital stay. After those horribly sullen months, I really didn't want anything else but to see her face again. To see a smile that welcomed me as much as I welcomed it.

I don't know how else to describe her other than with affection and positivity. Hair the color of soft pink, oddly curly in quality but looking completely natural on her, trailing down to her shoulders. Although I say she's 5 years older than me, a mere 3 or 4 inches separates the top of my head from the peak of hers - Cherilee was always a little touchy about that, but in the meantime, it's enough for her that she's simply taller than me, no matter the minuscule difference. For a girl her age, she has a rather mature look to her that accentuates the whole teacher thing she has going on; that, and she looks nice in glasses. Real glasses mess with her vision, however, so she wears lens-less spectacles.

A little pointless accessory, in my opinion, but one of the only reasons boys my age ever approached me in high school was for information on my sister.. so I don't doubt the effectiveness of well-placed glasses.

Cherilee herself, though.. how should I say it? She was never the type to treat me like a student - though, it might have seemed like that at some times. The reason she wanted to become a teacher can be cited back to our earliest childhood memories, when she would help me with homework, teach me things about nature, help out with cooking, all sorts of things. But that also extended to dealing with bullies, people I didn't like, people who didn't like me. Life lessons I had trouble swallowing and ideals I couldn't wrap my head around - she, with as much love and rigor as an older sister and teacher-in-training should have, put my young self at ease with all those matters. Cherilee had, in short, what it took to be a teacher. Education in academics in one thing, but I've never seen anyone who understood people more than her in my life.

She had what it took to become a lot of other things too - colleges specializing in health, liberal arts, and engineering hounded her in her final months of high school, but Cherilee pursued her passion. I admire her for that, really.

A dull beep notified the station that the train was now ready to leave. Little by little, as it picked up motion, I let my eyes fall shut.

I was on a train. Something very similar to this had claimed the lives of my parents not long ago.

I forced a nap.

It almost seemed like a few seconds afterwards when I was jolted awake. Extremely disturbed, it didn't take me very long to figure out why. My entire surroundings were trembling violently, the sound of creaking metal and a dull alarm blaring overhead. I wasn't the only one who noticed - everyone else who were in thir seats were awake as well, perturbed by the noise and the motion.

Then, it stopped, punctuated with the ominous hiss of what sounded like an engine at the end of it's life. The speakers came on, the conductor speaking,

"We are terribly sorry for the delay, but we have stopped the train at the Questria Station due to a technical issue with some of our components and pets in three of our units. We ask that all passengers on board would please exit the train and wait in the station for further announcements of departure."

I sat on a bench in the crowded station, seated next to a duo of dark looking teenagers having a heated conversation concerning the inconvenience of the delay. My earphones were plugged in. I raised the volume in desperate attempt to block out the noise of dozens of people.

Not that it worked. Everyone was just too loud.

Frustrated, I tore them off my head and stood up, wanting to take a walk or otherwise get away from all this commotion. My seat was quickly taken but I didn't care.

It was late, around 2 or 3 AM when I last checked. They were still fixing up the train, and were getting a new one to replace the ride to the original destination, so I had some time to kill.

I walked up a flight of marble stairs and came to a landing with some bathrooms and a few shops lodged alongside the walls, only a handful of them open. I reached into my wallet and peeked inside. Excellent, I had some cash.

I took a good hard look at some of the shops. One sold burgers, which I definitely wasn't in the mood for. Another sold books, which I already had plenty of. One sold jewlery, and another pastries. My stomach let out a mild growl. Cherliee said she was going to make something for me when I arrived at the school, but I could definitely go for a sweet right now, considering there are still a few hours left to go on that train.

There was a modest line of people paying for their food at the cash register. In a matter of minutes, I had a neatly folded wrap in my hands with a pastry inside. I sat at one of the benches in the almost empty landing of the station, save for a few people still purchasing miscellaneous items at other shops, and tore off a modestly sized piece of bread, chewing thoughtfully on it. I wasted a few minutes filling my empty stomach with sugar and dough, my hands delighted at simply having something to do. A piece slipped out of my fingers and fell to the floor. I stared at it dully, my mind in other places.

I sighed, and suddenly realized that there was something falling from my face. I lightly brushed my eyes to find tears in them. Suddenly irritated with myself, I tossed the rest of the bread into the waste-bin and hurriedly wiped my face with my sleeve.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Even if the doctors couldn't explain it, I knew tears were a physical reminder of what I'd gone through months ago. A trigger of sorts. For once, can't my illnesses do something useful for me? Like give me a super power or something?

Worried if anyone was watching, despite the landing looking pretty empty before, I looked up..

..and found myself looking at an unfamiliar, feminine face from very close proximity. Large, curious eyes bore into mine invasively.

I flinched horribly but suppressed a yell.

She, whether in response or not, flinched too - but her own shriek was very undisguised.

"I-I'm sorry.." the girl stammered, clearly a bit shaken, tucking some lavender hair behind her left ear. "I was just wondering.. is there a train to Starlight Academy at one of these gates?"

For a moment, we both simply stared at each other.

I found my voice again,

"..Yeah, there is."

I pointed towards the large electronic display clinging to the ceiling, labeled with the train I was on and it's corresponding numbers.

"I was on it just now. It has some problems - everyone's waiting until they're finished fixing things up."

I checked my watch for good measure - roughly 20 minutes had passed since I got off the train.

"I think they'll make an announcement when they're ready," I concluded rather lamely.

The girl found her voice too, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness.. so I'm not too late."

She sat down next to me. Some of the shock of a person actually approaching me first had subsided, and I glanced at her now with a bit of uncertainty.

She got her answers. What reason did she have to sit right next to me? A little close too, with only bare centimeters of distance separating my hand and hers..

I shook my head.

"So you're headed for Starlight Academy too, then?"

That was kind of a dumb question. Why else would she ask me for the train if she didn't want to get on it?

The girl didn't seem to find this strange at all, though.

"Oh, yes. I'm a regular at the school now, actually! I just had to drop by the nearest town to pick up some things before the new term."

The violet-haired youth gently gestured to a paper bag lying at her feet, looking very much to me like she'd put about two dozen bricks in there. It occurred to me that it was a little late for school shopping, but I hear life at a boarding school can be tough sometimes.

The girl let out a yawn, stretching her arms behind her. She seemed tired.

"Um, how.. how about you?" the purple-haired youth turned my question on me tentatively, after she was done.

Deciding to respond truthfully, I replied, "Well.. I'm about to become a regular. Transferring in before the new term starts."

This seemed to perk her interest for some reason. The girl looked at me,

"Ohh," she clapped her hands together delightedly, "so this'll be your first time?"

I nodded.

"Well, I-- oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself!" She stopped herself midsentence, apparently flustered.

"My name is Twilight Sparkle," she stated with a very petite, organized air to her, and held out her hand. "What's your name?"

I looked at her, letting a little smile come to my lips.

"Colt Blackwood. Nice to meet you, Twilight."

We shook on the exchange of names.

A person's hand.. it felt weird. Maybe it's because I hadn't held one in such a long time - the only reason any person had to actually touch me was for medicinal purposes.

Call me strange, but the fact that I hadn't shook someone's hand in such a long time made me a little over-analytical. Subconsciously, I began noticing small things about Twilight's hand - it's softness, juxtaposed with a rather bony texture; how her grip wasn't firm, but at the same time, confident. And, trialing from her palm to her wrist, a scar - only ever so slightly visible, but visible nonetheless. I recognized that scar in particular because I had them too - places where red hot flames had imprinted themselves onto my body.

I.. held her hand a little too long.

"Um.."

"Oh, uh..!"

Very, VERY awkward. I quickly let go of her hand and looked in the opposite direction, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. I risked a glance and she appeared to be doing the same. Her blush seemed to mirror mine. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and found my voice,

"S-so um, what's in the bag?"

Relieved by the new direction our conversation was taking us, Twilight attentively responded while picking up the bag (with what looked like considerable difficulty), "Oh, these are just new supplies for a new student that's supposed to enroll at at the academy in a few days. One of my teachers sent me out to get them on a.. really quick notice."

A new student meant to enroll in a few days time.. and the materials were needed at 2 AM on that particular morning why? The quizzical look on her face told me she didn't quite understand either. Until..

"Hold- hold on."

Twilight stared at me.

"This.. teacher. Her name, by any chance - was it Cherilee?"

I knew I'd hit the mark when the violet-haired youth momentary appeared to be shocked. I've talked a lot about how good my older sister is to me, but to be quite honest, she can be sort of clumsy at times. Cherilee didn't know when to expect me as I had given her a rather vague date-range for my arrival, so when I had called her two nights ago, affirming that I had managed to nab a train that would take me to the academy earlier than predicted, I expect she sort of.. flipped? Which would mean this Twilight Sparkle was all the way out here because..

She listened to me explain all this with bated breath. When I finished,

"So.. you're Ms. Cherilee's younger brother?"

I nodded.

Twilight's expression went anxious all too suddenly at this news, and she hurriedly turned away from me in her seat, busying herself with something in her pockets and muttering in a voice that she apparently thought I couldn't hear.

"Oh noo, I knew this would happen! Well, I didn't really know it would happen, but I prepared notecards in case I actually met Ms. Cherilee's brother! She- she said herself that it wouldn't be good if I said something insensitive or accidentally reminded him of something bad or.. Ooh, how could I let this happen.. But how could I know he was going to show up anyways? Why didn't I just memorize the lines then?! I mean, who even uses notecards for.. ah, jeez..!"

Twilight Sparkle looked to be in considerable distress. I didn't know what to make of this situation, but there was one thing I know I needed to do. I gingerly raised my hand and gently prodded her shoulder with my finger.

"Eeek!"

Maybe a bad move.

Twilight jumped in her seat and quickly turned to face me, her cheeks rosy.

"Y-yes?"

I let my hand drop, and a small, thankful smile tug at the corner of my lips.

"Well.. you're all the way out here this early in the morning on account of me, is that right?"

She gulped and nodded, apparently petrified out of some unknown fear.

"W-well.. thank you. And sorry," I managed to get out. Twilight's stiff shoulder seemed to loosen, a surprised look in her large, expressive eyes. "Sorry for, um, imposing. I mean, that you had to do all this just for me. My idiot sister could have done anything else except make you get up this early just to fetch my school materials if she weren't so lazy."

My speech was awkward and halting, and I felt as if I were just going through the motions contrary to actually apologizing. But I really meant it. I spent too much time in captivity, relying on other people to help me get through the day for it to feel comfortable for me all over again. Fortunately, Twilight seemed to gather this, despite my less than adequate wording.

"It's.. it's no problem at all! Like I said, I had a few things to get personally so.. no harm, no foul, yes?"

"..Sure."

But she never did say before that she had anything to purchase for herself. The only bag she had, excluding her purse, was the plastic bag at her feet. The only thing in it was school supplies. Twilight was nicer than I thought.

We sat next to each other on the rest of the ride to the academy, and as the train picked up speed once more, Twilight explained a few things about the school to me.

"..almost entirely water, so I wouldn't suggest getting it unless you like tasteless coffee, which I really.. Ah.."

She was unable to hold back a rather drawn out yawn.

"S-sorry, it still is a little early for me.."

"No problem," I replied, still feeling a little guilty about her having to do Cherilee's dirty work. "Hey, it's fine if you want to sleep. We still have a few hours left, and if I have any more questions about the academy, I'll definitely ask when we get there, yeah?"

Twilight looked at my sideways with apprehension.

"Are- are you sure? I mean, there's still a bunch of stuff I haven't.. explained to.. to.."

The apprehension dissolved into a drowsy stillness, as her speech became lost in her mouth. The violet-haired beauty had unexpectedly leaned over and fell asleep on my shoulder. I wanted to react in some shape or form, extremely flustered by this intimate (though, entirely unintentional on her part, I'm sure) gesture. I felt myself slipping as well. It was warm and, like Twilight, I was sleepy. Her head on my shoulder created a comfort I was unfamiliar with, but I welcomed it unknowingly. My eyelids fell shut long before I could utter a single word.

Not even a sliver of my recurring nightmare showed it's face. The clickety-clack of the tracks against the wheels of the train that morning created a harmony that put me at peace.