It was so innocent when it started. So quiet, so honest. Genuine. I'd thought things could never go wrong, that everything was giving its best. I'd never realized how wrong I was until now.
My name is Ink Drop. I am twelve years old, and I live in Ponyville. I bunk with my sister in the apartment we share, and I'm pretty sure I was friends with everypony in the building, Vinyl Scratch and Octavia upstairs, roomies Carrot Top and Ditzy Doo, and Bon Bon and Lyra. We all get along pretty well- we hang out when we're not busy with work - or in my case, school - and we tend to be oddballs in the crowd. No biggie. Not really.
The trouble started in mid-January, a few months after my meeting with Pinkie Pie. School isn't easy, but it's rewarding. School's not the problem. My school friends, Viper, Hollow Dreams and Color Splash, are pretty cool. Blackwing's sometimes a little iffy, but nopony's perfect, eh? No, they're not the problem. My problem's with Sugar Petal.
Ever since I came to this school - the nice private school near the library, not the crummy one by town hall (where Hollow used to go, I think) - Sugar Petal was always a problem. Even from kindergarten, she wasn't just bratty, but plain mean. She pushed, she shoved, she shouted. Nothing went well. I don't blame her.
Now, I've made "friends" with Sugar Petal. I've tried. "Kill 'em with kindness," as the saying goes. That doesn't work. Everypony knows it. Intrusive? Check. Obnoxious? Double-check. Selfish? Maybe, but the worst part is, she knows what she's doing is wrong! Like, maybe if she genuinely didn't know any better, I wouldn't mind, but she does know that she's getting on my nerves. I have a sneaking suspicion that Sugar's the reason I'm such a big asshole.
Speaking of big asses, that's another problem to add to the list. I'm a little bit of what they call, "pleasantly plump," (especially so for a pegasus) but I want to murder whoever made up that saying. Sugar Petal sure doesn't spare my feelings when it comes to my chubbier legs and arms and tummy. At least I'm not a freakin' walking toothpick like everypony else is. "It's in style," my flank!
Yeah, my life pretty much sucks, but you didn't come here to hear about my social problems, so let me cut to the chase.
The guard, Silver Gloss, in all his armor and trimmings, he asks me questions. Polite and careful questions that make me feel safe, like he cares if I'm bothered. I was fine with him before, but now I think I'm starting to like him a little- guards are more often than not more like thugs than guards.
"Now," he says, "I have something else to discuss with you, something private. Will you walk with me?"
I'm not sure what to say to this. I shift nervously. Be polite, etiquette and respect, I tell myself. It would be impolite to refuse, so I nod. "Okay." I think I say this to him, but for all it know, I might just think I said it, so I say it again. "Okay."
Silver Gloss seems to notice my unease, "If you don't want to come," he says, frowning a concerned sort of frown, "you don't understand. I know how some of the guards can get, and it's natural to not want to walk alone to somewhere you don't know with a strange stallion."
I nod shyly, "Yeah."
"Well," he says, smiling again. "How about this- you meet me at the Rusty Horseshoe at nine o'clock sharp?"
A pub, of all places. He seems pretty serious, and stupid etiquette and respect just won't shut up. "Okay," I finally reply, "I'll be there."
I'm pretty sure I've just made the most stupid decision of my life, and even that's the understatement of the century at best. With a few more words, customary closings, all that crap, we walk in opposite directions, Silver off to do whatever guards do, as I head home. I can't stop thinking about meeting him tonight, and I can't help but blush with pleasure at the dirtier possible outcomes of this situation. I don't think anything's dirtier than my mind.
It's already somewhere around eight-thirty by the time I finish with my schoolwork and all of my usual chores. I feel suddenly self-concious, even before I leave the house, so I spend a good ten minutes rummaging through my closet for some kind of jacket to protect me from the nighttime cold and still look presentable. As soon as I find it, I have only about twenty minutes to reach the Horseshoe before I'm late, and trust me when I say I suck at time management.
I don't reach the square in which the pub is located until about eight fifty-five, which is surprisingly good time for me. I pull the jacket tighter around my body. The bar is packed with rowdy and boisterous customers, some mares but mostly stallions, and most more than tipsy on alcoholic ciders and different brews of beer and booze. I most certainly don't feel safe.
The gentle tap on my shoulder doesn't help with this; I jump and nearly fall over, spinning around to face a silvery-coated stallion. His green eyes are familiar, though I don't recognize his squared, dark, rusty-striped mane and tail. His cutie mark is a pair of tongs holding a shiny-looking silver horseshoe, and it's only as I see it that I instantly realize who he is.
"Silver Gloss?" I half-whisper, "I almost didn't recognize you!"
He smiles sheepishly, "Sorry about that, enchantments on the helmets and things so we all look the same."
I nod, "No biggie. What do you need to talk about?"
"The night watch," Silver says, his smile fading as he pulls me over to an empty table in the corner, "what do you know about them?"
"The night watch?" I echo, confused, "Aren't they Princess Luna's guard? Y'know, take over when the day guard need some sleep and all?"
"I wish it were that innocent," says Silver, "but they have a secret. Didn't it ever occur to you that those batponies that make up the guard all are supposed to be normal pegasi under an illusion enchantment like day guards' helmets, but they're stronger and faster than normal ponies, and they don't seem to need sleep!"
I wish I could say I understand what Silver Gloss is trying to say, but I'm an idiot. "Whatcha mean? I'm sure its just enchantments, right?"
"No," Silver whispers, voice grave. "I have a theory." He paused, clearly trying to add dramatic effect, "Vamponies!"
Seriously? Maybe this dude's a little late for the hooskow after all. "You're kidding, right?"
Silver sighs, "Nah, I knew you'd think I was crazy!"
"It's okay," I say quickly, "tell me what you want me to do, whatever you need, I'm here for ya!"
"Thanks," he says, relieved. I feel better too. "Anyway, I want you to find any member of the night watch and ask about joining, get inside, and feed me as much information as you can get your hooves on! Can you do that?"
Remember how I'd said my life sucks? I guess I might've been... wrong. This should be... exciting.
Prologue - Stranger Danger
The mare sighed, sliding the bits across the counter and taking her produce. She smiled a little and tucked the three delicious-looking honeycrisp apples into her saddlebag with her wing, blowing a lock of her dull brown mane out of her eyes.
"Thank you, Mr. Macintosh," she said.
"Eeyup," the crimson-coated stallion replied with a breif nod.
With another smile and a wave, the mare - though she could barely be reffered to as such - trotted across the square, mostly empty aside from fiery-hued leaves drifting lazily down from the mostly bare trees, over to Sugarcube Corner, intent on a mug of Pinkie Pie's famous hot chocolate.
"Hello Miss Pie," she said shyly as she approached the mini-bar and sat in one of the high stools. "how much would it be for some hot cocoa?"
The energetic pink mare popped up from behind the counter, cotton-candy hair bouncing as she lunged forward, a wide grin on her face. "Hi! I've never seen you before! Also, it's three bits! How do you know my name? What's your name?"
The young pegasus mare shrunk back a little bit at the intensity of the pink party-pony's greeting. "Uh... Everypony knows your name, Miss Pie. My name's Ink Drop." She pulled the required amount of bits out of her saddlebag and gave them to Pinkie. "I'd like a hot chocolate," Ink added with a sheepish grin.
"Cool!" said Pinkie, "What's your cutie mark for? Mine's for throwing parties!"
Ink blushed, fluttering her oversized wings awkwardly, "I draw and write, and sometimes sing." She chewed her lip thoughtfully, "So I guess my special talent is art?"
"That is super funeriffic!" Pinke exclaimed with a playful smile, sliding a steaming mug of hot chocolate to Ink. "Can I call you Inkie? What's your middle name? Mine's Diane, Pinkamina Diane Pie!"
"Sure," Ink replied, promtly blushing, "it's Kathryn..." As soon as she processed what Pinkie had just said, her face lit up, "I'm not the only one with a weird middle name! I used to get teased real bad for that!"
Pinkie Pie grinned wider, "Really? Same here! Can you believe it? Our nicknames rhyme too! Pinkie and Inkie! Or Inkie and Pinkie!" The cotton-candy earth pony giggled with a slight snort, and Ink couldn't help but laugh along.
Ink took an eager gulp of the steaming beverage before her, not caring as it scalded her tongue and throat. "Not to be rude or anything," said Ink, "but what's up with all the questions?"
Pinkie giggled again with a mischievous grin, "Silly Inkie," she exclaimed, "I gotta know everything I can about everypony so I can properly party-plan!"
"Okay," said Ink, more or less okay, "and please, my friends call me K."
"Okie-Dokie-Lokie!" Pinkie replied with a grin, bouncing off into the bakery's kitchen.
Ink couldn't help but facehoof. "Bye, Pinkie." she called into the kitchen, "I'll see you around, okay?"
"Okay... K.!" There was a snort of laughter from the depths of the bakery, "Heheheha! It rhymes!" as Pinkie Pie laughed at her own (not really that funny) joke.
Just a sandwich short of a picnic, and crazy, that one, Ink thought as she adjusted her saddlebags so they rested comfortable between her wings, but what would everypony do without her, I wonder?
Ink, or K. rather, trotted in the general direction of her home, the sweet taste of chocolate still thick on her tongue. She began to sing quietly to herself;
There, ain't no birds, and there, ain't no bees,
Who would dare to sing the same song as me,
But that ain't half-bad,
As those cardboard trees,
Starin' down, growin' wire,
Find'n my stage fright
They all say, 'you ain't gonna win,'
And I just cry out, oh, 'why can't I just fit in?'
But that ain't half bad,
As the perpetual fight within,
Growin' big, cannot slow,
And even though-oh-oh,
There, ain't no birds, and there, ain't no bees,
Who would dare to sing the same song as me,
That, ain't half-bad,
As those cardboard trees,
Starin' down, growin' wire,
Find'n my stage fright...
K. found herself trailing off as she trotted down the dusty dirt road, the crisp late-autumn air cleansing in her lungs. She couldn't keep the spring out of her step, but the minuscule joy was quickly cut off,
"Quite a beautiful voice you have there," said a voice. It was obviously male, smooth and silky, but to the point of stupid fakeness. "I wonder what else that beautiful face hides."
K. jumped, "What?" she spun around to see a stallion with a pure white coat, blue eyes and a blue-streaked mane and tail. He was wearing the signature gold armor of Celestia's royal guard that covered his cutie mark. "What do you want?"
"My name is Silver Gloss," said the unicorn stallion, "and I have a few questions for you, if that's not a problem."
"What kinds of questions?" K. asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Nothing much," Gloss replied, "I'm just asking everypony I can find. A survey, of sorts."
"Alrighty then," said K. "shoot."
Gloss nodded to himself, pulling a clipboard out of his saddlebag and reading from it, "Okay, have you ever been diagnosed with any kind of mental disorder and/or disease?"
"Aren't those the same thing?" K. asked, arching an eyebrow, "And no, I have not."
"Good," said Gloss, "and do you know anypony with any kind of mental disorder and/or disease?"
K. giggled, "Does Pinkie Pie count?"
"No."
"Really?"
Gloss chuckled, "Really, it's been specified not to bother with her."
"Oh, okay then."
