Ch 1: This can only end badly
“Fine! I’m sick of this place anyways!”
*SLAM*
Markus let out a deep sigh as he shut himself into his bedroom, listening to the general chaos that came with having so many little brothers and sisters trying to kill each other downstairs. Well, not literally, but with all the stress it brought, they might as well have been.
The man rubbed his face with his hands, his form shaking with suppressed anger. He hated every single one of those little shits with everything he had. All while his mother screamed her lungs out at them AND at him! There is no justice…
“Everything I do for this place, this family… What’s the damn point?” he muttered to himself, just kinda standing there in front of his closed door as his mind began to wander randomly... He felt a certain… buzzing at the back of his skull. His medication was wearing off for the day - probably the only thing keeping him from committing several acts of assault and murder.
ADHD, stress, and anger issues: a bad combo.
The twenty-year old looked around his old messy bedroom, violent fantasies playing out in his head as he started towards the small laptop he had taken for his schoolwork. He pulled out his earbuds and turned on the machine, then knelt down near an old, beat up book bag that he stored his meds in. He peered inside the three bottles; a few days’ worth of those precious mind-clearing tablets. He swore under his breath. He hated being almost out of meds; it stressed him out. Like a lot of things. And people.
Markus then turned to look at himself in the mirror, judging himself. He was clad in a simple pair of blue jeans, as well as a college t-shirt and a grey Black Mesa hoodie with a broken zipper. His skin was mostly pale, being helped along by his preference towards indoor activities. His legs and arms were darker, but only just a little. He had brown eyes, bloodshot and tired, never mind the bags under his eyes. His hair, too, was brown, messy and moderately long. It probably didn’t help that he couldn’t stop playing with it when idle. He gritted his teeth at himself, revealing mostly white teeth, but some rather glaring… “fangs” from a lack of braces when he was younger. “I need to shave,” he thought, looking away from the reflective glass and rubbing his fledgling goatee. He hated shaving.
As the laptop chimed to signal its readiness, he sat down, logged in, and checked his email, all while his earbuds remained coiled around his left palm. He didn’t feel like listening to anything anymore or even trying to play any games. He just let the ear-clinging buds dangle from his hand idly.
“Jesus fuck… I gotta get out of here…” he said to himself for what was probably the 30th time that week alone. If this were a cartoon, his entire face would be tomato red and steam would be steadily flowing from his ears. He thought of where he could go.
He could “hide” at his dad’s place… he had the key and was relatively welcome there. He could see about staying with his friend Eric… That’s it, actually. Markus felt a little bit depressed as he realized that; the socially awkward male never had very many friends. Most of them were online, and the ones he had met in real life had either moved away or hadn’t been seen since high school.
Maybe he could just run out to get some food. He had forgotten how hungry he actually was until now. Maybe it was time to put those birthday gift cards to use after all.
Eventually, he shut down the laptop and grabbed that same book bag, dumping everything but the pill bottles out of it. “… Fuck it. I’m leaving. I’ll figure everything else out when I’m in the car.” He said to himself, carrying his bag to his closet and dresser as he began to pack a few changes of clothes. A flash of lightning from the window startled him just a little. Markus had forgotten about the predicted storm coming. But he paid little mind to it.
After quickly stuffing his backpack with things he would need, he grabbed the things he wanted. His wallet, keys, tablet, phone, chargers for the both, and all the change he could fit in his pocket. He was a poor guy; all the nice things he had were gifts, really. Not that he could complain about that much.
As he zipped up his backpack, he remained in his crouching position, just thinking as he zoned out on the sights of its shiny metal zippers. In the process of packing up, he had had a chance to calm down a little, allowing clearer second thoughts to rise. “… Maybe I should come back after I eat after all… Mom needs all the help she can get…” he said to himself.
“... Then again, I need to get the fuck out of here before I lose it, and a meal isn’t going to stop me from beating Norman’s face into the kitchen counters…”
“Does it really matter that much?”
“… Yeah.”
“… Cross that bridge when you get to it, Markus.”
After the brief conversation he had had with himself, he stood up and slung the slightly heavy backpack over his shoulders, and left his bedroom, locking the door behind him. Markus let out a deep sigh as he went downstairs, watching one of his brothers and one of his sisters rolling on the floor, fighting. With his mother busy in the other room, he ran to break it up.
“Ryan! Kayla! STOP!” he loudly screamed, jumping down the rest of the stairs and attempting to pry the kids off of each other. The boy named Ryan took exception to this. He started screaming accusations and various immature things at his younger sister while she, too, screamed accusations and various immature things.
“Get out of here! To your rooms! NOW!” Markus screamed, already feeling his anger rising. Kayla ran off to the stairs, but instead made a hard right and ran to tattle some more. “What the hell did I just say!” Markus spat, starting to run after her to stop her. That little girl had a knack for getting him into trouble, after all. And Ryan was a dick; he thought it would be funny to kick at his big brother’s legs.
He lost it.
The adult stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face the boy. “… Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!!” he shouted, grabbing Ryan’s shirt and lifting him up off the ground by it. “You NEVER attack me! Or any of your siblings! UNDERSTAND!!?” Markus yelled like a drill instructor.
He was none too pleased when Ryan started screaming back. “BUT KAYLA WAS HITT-“ His ears ringing from the kid’s unfathomably loud voice, he lashed out, throwing the kid to the floor. “YOU LITTLE SH-“ Markus cried, bringing his right leg up in preparation to stomp when he realized his mother was watching. She stared daggers at her eldest son, whom lowered his leg and turned towards her. “Get out.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Markus walked away from his little brother and brushed past his mother as Kayla and Ryan yelled and hid respectively. “Don’t count on me to be back tonight. I’ve just decided that you can all go fuck yourselves.” And with those words, Markus left the house, immediately feeling rain on his face and clothes. He could care less at this point. He walked to the family’s garage, opening it.
Within rested two vehicles. One was a dark blue minivan, covered in his mother’s braggings over her Irish heritage and red hair. Or should I say bumper stickers. Markus’s vehicle was MUCH sexier: a beige Toyota from 2001… A jalopy, really. The rear bumper was hanging on by a cord and the right turn signal had been knocked out of its socket, though still functioned. The internal driver’s side door handle had broken off recently, and he had to roll down his window and use the outer handle whenever he wanted to get out. The fuel needle was stuck on empty and his check engine light was perpetually on. It was truly a glorious piece of shit.
Markus got in and put his backpack in the passenger seat, starting his car as he put on the belt. AC/DC started blasting from his stereo and he rushed to turn it down. He had forgotten how loud he had had it. “… Jesus fucking Christ… My ears…” he scolded himself, putting the beat up 4 door in drive and rolling out of the garage, away from his home.
As he drove, though, his thoughts returned to the despicability of what his little siblings had done. His mother always got mad at him for getting mad at them. Apparently age meant patience… or it was supposed to. This meant that the shittiest of the siblings could do the most despicable, detestable, and utterly irritating things right in front of him and he couldn’t do a damn thing. “… Remind me never to have kids.” He said to himself, getting on the freeway and just driving south. At this point, he had forgotten where he was going, and was just driving for its own sake.
Markus just drove for several miles, passing many familiar exits on his way to absolutely nowhere. He kept going, the outer city giving way to farmland and woodlands. The rain pattered against his windshield in a dull, but melodic beat, and the more he listened to it, the more he realized that it was soothing. He turned off the radio and drove in silence, the rain droplets reflecting off his headlights in the near-night darkness. “....... You’ll have to go back eventually, Markus.” He said aloud.
“I know.” Markus said in return.
“You should probably turn around at the next chance you get.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll probably want to apologize to mom.”
“I’m fully aware.”
“…”
“…”
Markus did as he had been instructed by himself, starting to drive back home as he played out scenarios of his return in his head. Very few of them were good.
So wrapped up in these unpleasant attempts to predict his future was he that he didn’t notice a rapidly gaining set of headlights behind him. And by the time he did…
You can probably guess, but I’ll spell it out for you anyways on the off chance you’re a first grader.
Markus noticed the glare of the approaching vehicle’s lights and looked in his mirror, his unfocused brain taking a second to register that the now apparent SUV was driving at well over the legal speed limit. It swiftly approached his jalopy’s rear, and Markus… well, he panicked. He quickly jerked the wheel to the right as the bigger car behind him hit him from behind. This did not end well.
Just before he was hit, he slammed on the brakes as hard as he possibly could, but what good would that do when the impact sent his sedan careening off the road. The male frantically tried to steer back onto the highway, but it didn’t make it any better. No, this practically killed him itself.
“FUCK YOU PHYSICS!” would be fitting last words for Markus as his panic put the car in a sideways roll, shattering his windows and his bones with each landing.
At last, his now-totaled car came to rest on its wheels in the ditch on the side of the road. Markus lay with his head against the steering wheel, the airbag having failed to deploy at all. And so he lay there, his eyes shut tightly and his teeth clenched. Shattered glass was everywhere, having cut his skin and let blood flow from many deep cuts. He coughed harshly, trying to reach for his seat belt buckle and releasing it. “GAHGHH!” came a loud cry from the pained adult… his arms must have been broken… so much for the no-broken-bone streak he had been carrying for the last 20 years.
His vision was fading… “Gahgh… no… fuckyoustayawake…” he growled weakly at himself, trying to use his other hand to reach for his cell phone to call for help. But the man just couldn’t do it in his crumpled, pained, broken state. He breathed heavily, fighting the oncoming loss of consciousness as long as he could before he eventually lost.
Once someone saw the wrecked vehicle on the side of the road, they called the police (the SUV’s driver never did, for whatever reason), whom arrived on the scene shortly after… Or they would have, if there WAS a scene.
The evidence was all there. The broken glass, the flattened grass, the skid marks on the highway pavement… but it seemed that the car and its deceased occupant had just… vanished.
Darkness. Nothing but darkness. He couldn’t see anything, not even his own body. “… Am I dead? Or just out cold? … If this is death, then being dead fucking blows.” Markus said to himself.
“… Oh… that was rather unfortunate… Hahahaha… Well, we can’t have that…” That voice was… how to describe it… smug like… someone who’s smug about something. Markus never could name tones of voices.
“… Nghh… who’s there…”
“Oh, I’m nopony special… Just a witness to your… *ahem* unfortunate accident.”
“… So help me god, I will fuck you up.”
“OH MY! Such anger! And here I was about to give you a chance to… shall we say, get back up.”
“… *sigh* Go on.”
“I can bring you back to the land of the living a-“
“So I AM dead.”
“How very observant. Now let me finish. I can bring you back from the dead… but on one little condition.”
“Of course. Because nothing is free!”
“You have one month to steal the Chaos Orb, and bring it to a place called the Eris Shrine.”
“… You are aware this isn’t some shitty RPG, right?”
“You can’t prove that.”
“… Fuck you. I’ll do it.”
“EXCELLENT!”
“You’re evil, aren’t you?”
“…”
“Definitely evil.”
“…”
“…. Wel- GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARAHHGHHHHH!” the human screamed as an immense pain hit him. Maybe it was a continuation of the pain he felt pre-mortem. Maybe it was a lot of other things. Who could say; the only light came from two tiny "cracks" above him, and by the time the pain had passed, he had passed out.
Author's Note
If I'm lucky, I might post chapter two tomorrow. We'll see.
Feedback would be greatly loved. Hell, if you want me to put more time into this, leave comments!
“… Nghhhhh… what… what the…” Markus emitted with a pained groan, attempting to raise his head to look around in the darkness that was his supposed place of doom. Wherever he was the air was stale, and smelled slightly of plastic.
*BONK*
“OW! Shit!” came another injured voicing, the male trying to rub his head… It felt strange to do just that, though. It felt like his fingers were gone… or perhaps broken and/or numb. Come to think of it, a lot of things felt like they were gone.
The 20 year old lifted his head slightly and looked around the dark space he had found himself in, his head again hitting something dangling near him. “… What’s this…” he muttered to himself, trying to grab it again and finding it very, very difficult. Eventually, he resorted to using his teeth, grabbing it and trying to pull it down towards him. In doing so, he heard a loud *CLUNK*, startling him and making him let go.
Suddenly, he felt a rush of fresh air flooding his supposed resting place, looking up as light filled in as well. Well… SOME light… the sky - obscured by a single tree from where he lay – appeared to be in dusk, the sky a beautiful red, gold, and pink in the waning light.
Markus felt strength returning to his legs, beginning to squirm towards the edge of his prison and eventually to try to leap out of it. Everything felt awkward… like his arms and legs were locked in a position in front of him. With a few tries, though, he managed to burst out, landing on the ground with a loud grunt and groan. “Fuaaagh… Ngh… Dammit… That hurts…” he said to himself, gritting his teeth as he stood up… or tried to, anyways. He fell forward onto his front as soon as he tried.
“What the… what’s…” he started to say, opening one eye and… seeing his arms… or rather, his legs… The only good thing he could say about this was that his hoodie still seemed to be with him, though speckled with broken shards of what was once his windshield and no less broken-zipper-ed. But the positives ended there. He had no hands. He had hooves. And light brown fur in place of that pale skin he had grown so used to. “… Okay. First concussion,” he said to try to rationalize it. “Gotta be more careful.”
Then he looked behind him. “… Oh, you’re joking me.” Behind his hoodie, he saw more brown fur, a darker shade of brown sprouting a tail just over what he assumed to be his rump. And he had equine legs back there, too.
Markus looked straight ahead and focused, attempting to stand once more. And though his expression betrayed none of it (not counting his lingering pain), he was indeed confused and angry. It took a bit of doing, but he managed to prop himself up on all fours at long last, shaking his head out to try to clear his mind.
He looked around a little, and the first thing that caught his notice… “… My car!” He cried, awkwardly approaching it and noting the open trunk. He’d ask himself how he got in there later. The machine was in much worse condition than it had been earlier, though. All the windows had been shattered, but the body was in worse shape. It was like someone had crumpled it up and tossed it away like an unwanted sheet of paper – unquestionably totaled. Markus came alongside the (more) destroyed ball of beige and metal, looking for his backpack, but to no avail. It was gone… He looked up, just briefly, though, and spotted it hanging from a tree branch directly overhead.
It was as he noticed his possessions hanging out of reach that he also noticed another… new feature of his: a horn, roughly 6 inches in length. And then he shot his gaze skyward, glaring daggers straight up as if he were cursing god himself. He couldn’t help himself. With a loud, frustrated, pained growl, he screamed.
“IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?!?!”
Applejack grunted with exertion as she pounded a stake into the ground, over and over again. She was busy repairing a fence that her friend, Rainbow Dash, had tragically broken during an “emergency landing.” Her bigger brother, a massive male draft… pony named Big Macintosh had a cart of white painted wood right behind the orange furred equine, watching and resting after he had finished his side of the fence.
With one last pound, the last stake had been shoved into the ground, the Earth Pony reaching up to remove her hat and wipe her brow.
“*Phew!* That outta do it! Thanks, Big Mac!” she sighed, smiling at her sibling and getting a silent smile in turn. Not much of a talker. Oh well. “Oh, before ya go, ask Applebloom if she fed Winona!”
“Eeyup.”
Good talk. The Big, red Macintosh pony walked back to the farmhouse, seeing their Border Collie herder lying in her doghouse nearby. Traces of her dinner lined her bowl, so Big Mac just went inside, leaving the little filly be.
Applejack, on the other hand, wasn’t quite done with the work. She began to nail the rest of the fence together; a fence made only of posts is no fence at all. As she pounded nails into the white painted wood, she heard barking from near the farmhouse, grinning as she held another nail in place. But before she could begin hammering, she saw the form of her herding dog bolting towards the apple orchard. “Winona! What in tarnation…!” she called, dropping her nails and chasing after her canine friend. Winona only did this when something was up.
Applejack had to know. Especially after hearing somepony scream something about a joke at the top of their lungs. Sounded like a fight or a criminal doing… something. Or it could be two little colts playing. Either way, she picked up the pace.
“Wait, Winona!”
Markus just stood there, staring up at the dangling backpack, with a frustrated expression. To say he was fuming would be an understatement as he angrily contemplated his situation, his thoroughly ruined car, and his out of reach possessions in the tree just above. He missed his hands already. And his sense of balance. Hell, just about everything. It didn’t help his entire body was still really damn sore.
After a short while of staring and being generally pissed, the newly made unicorn let out a deep sigh, leaning against a tree as he stood up on all fours. He knew he wasn’t going to get it back without help. He had to wonder if the people around here were going to react well to a talking brown unicorn. “Only one way to find out… wait…” he muttered to himself, turning his head to the north as he heard a familiar, but not entirely unwelcome sound: barking. He turned slowly to face the approaching canine, hoping for the best and NOT preparing to punch it. No hands, remember.
He saw a few bushes nearby beginning to shake, and from them, a Border Collie with big, adorable black eyes burst out. It came running up to Markus and wagging its tail. The brown furred unicorn couldn’t help a smile, awkwardly lifting a hoof to pet the little guy… girl. He couldn’t tell from where he was standing. “Hey there, fella… you lost?” he asked in a much calmer tone, feeling Winona beginning to sniff him curiously. “… Am I? I could be, for all I know. What’d’ya think, pooch?”
“Are ya what now?” That voice made him jump out of his skin (or fur), snapping his gaze onto the bushes from which the dog had emerged. What he saw, though, just reinforced one little theory of his: if there was a god, it was having fun with him.
Applejack burst through the foliage to chase down her working dog, the chase having long since taken them out of the orchard and into the woods beyond. She began to worry just a little about whom or what Winona had scented or heard. It was starting to get dark after all, and it was going to be a rainy night, according to the fence-busting Rainbow Dash. As she came through one last cluster of bushes, she came to stop in a small clearing where she saw something very, very strange.
A mass of mangled plastic, aluminum, and rubber, peppered with broken glass and served with a slight unpleasant odor that Applejack couldn’t hope to name. Looking up at the twisted metal, she noted how high the wreck loomed over her, and also the strange looking… saddlebag hanging from a large tree branch immediately overhead.
Then he looked to the more normal of the clearing’s two occupants: a unicorn stranger. Yes, she’d never seen this pony before. Granted, she didn’t know everypony like Pinkie did, but she knew most of ‘em. She gave the stranger a friendly smile as she looked him over.
This unicorn had short, light brown fur covering his body, with a darker shade of such coloring his unkempt tail and mane. On his back and front legs, there was a garment of grey with a hood attached, a strange black symbol with odd black lettering adorning each side of the unzipped piece of clothing. She idly wondered how Rarity would react to seeing that. And adorning his flank was, of course, a cutie mark that she KNEW she’d never seen before.
It was a strange pattern, with a bright white dot in the middle of what appeared to be… clouds of colors ranging from strange reds to bright, vibrant blues. On the top side of the mark, there was a segmented tube that looked like a telescope, from what Applejack could gather.
It was only after she finished observing this stranger that she spoke. “Uh… howdy, sir. Ya lost?” she quipped, sounding friendly, despite those big brown eyes of his being locked on her in a somewhat unsettling manner.
Markus shook his head out to snap himself back to attention, looking over the orange equine once more before speaking. “… What?”
“I said are ya lost?” she repeated. Markus had to wonder why an orange pony would be sporting a southern accent, never mind the reason that an orange pony would be speaking at all. Then again, he was a unicorn and still had his voice, so he dismissed it.
“… That’s a distinct… *pause* possibility,” he managed, pausing only briefly to recapture escaping words. “Where am I?”
“Why, you’re right near Sweet Apple Acres,” she replied, a somewhat proud smile curving her maw. “If ya’ll’re lookin’ for Ponyville, just follow the path from the farm.”
“… Ponyvi-… Okay.” Ponyville. “Son of a bitch…” Markus uttered under his breath, prompting a confused look from the southern stranger.
“Son of a what now?”
“Never mind...” The newly made unicorn shook his head, looking around restlessly. His eyes caught on his out-of-reach bag. “Could I convince you to help me get that down?” he then asked, gesturing at it with his head. “I can’t reach it or throw anything to get it down.”
The orange one nodded cheerfully, trotting up to the wrecked car with a “Caaan do!” Markus watched quietly, seeing Applejack climbing the crumpled mass of metal before jumping at the hanging backpack.
Getting the feeling it was about to fall, Markus walked slowly towards the tree while focusing (well, as best as he could manage) on each individual step. For better or worse, though, he was just a little too slow to make it under the branch, and his bag fell from the tree as the branch snapped.
Applejack landed on all fours with a soft grunt, then turned around to witness a fully grown unicorn moving like a foal that had just discovered how legs work. A look of concern washed over her expression as the stranger gracelessly hobbled towards the bag without so much as a thank you. At least, not until he reached it.
“… Hah… Thanks, miss…” he emitted in a strained tone, looking over his shoulder as he flipped the bag onto its front. Then he started trying to put it on his back, failing just as terribly as that. He couldn’t piece together how to get the damned thing on his back.
Applejack stepped towards the brown, now especially worried. It was rare that ever saw a unicorn having such difficulty using their magic… Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him try. Now that was unusual.
“Are ya sure you’re alright, Mister?” she quipped, moving to the side of him as she used one hoof to boost the strange looking saddlebag onto his back.
“Gahh… Actually, no, I’m NOT alright… come on…” he told her, letting the backpack hang over his opposite side to step into the other loop. “No clue where I am, what I’m doing here, or why m-” Markus then explained, though he cut himself off as he was about to mention the ball of car to his immediate left. He thought on the merits of talking about it.
A few seconds later, he wondered what the point of his hesitation was. What could possibly go wrong with giving a name to the orb of metallic scrap?
“… Ngh… or why my car is here looking like that,” he finished with a deep, frustrated sigh. “Everything that’s happened to me today has been twelve different kinds of fucked.”
Applejack cringed at the vulgar language. Whoever this pony was, he sounded like he definitely needed help. “… Hey now… It’ll be fine,” she reassured him, moving to stand in front of him with a tilt of her head and an encouraging smile. “Mah name’s Applejack. What’s yours?”
Pausing a moment to close his eyes and hang his head a little, he collected his thoughts and mentally kicked himself to stay focused, rational, and in contr- isn’t that a kind of drink? He shook the random thought off.
“… Markus.”
“Alrighty, Markus. How’d ya like to come in an’ eat with us?” she offered, her smile growing a little. “Ah’m sure whatever’s botherin’ ya, a big meal’ll help! Ah know it does me!”
As soon as she said that, Markus’ stomach gave off a rather fearsome growl. He looked down at himself and let out a soft groan; he’d forgotten how hungry he was. “… I think I just said yes.”
Applejack nodded and began to lead the stranger-no-more towards the orchards, with Markus lagging behind a bit. It probably didn’t help that Winona really wanted him to play. She ran around his legs and often came to stop in front of him in a play bow, tail wagging and mouth open. “… Not now, pooch… Little busy here…” he told it, slowing down a little more to try to step around the canine. Winona wasn’t having it. She kept pestering the unicorn, barking at him occasionally as he tried to master the art of walking on all fours.
As he went, though, he began to feel an inexplicable fatigue washing over his body… being dead couldn’t have been that tiring, could it? Well, his mouth was dry… really dry, actually. Come to think of it, he didn’t really know how long he’d been unconscious in his trunk…
“… How long was I in there…?” he asked himself aloud, unknowingly not quite loud enough for Applejack to hear. “… How the hell did I not get crushed in there, too…?” A pause. “Why the hell is my car even here?”
“… You were dead, Markus,” he also said to himself.
“I know.”
“Who knows… other than that… one guy, I guess. Never did ask his name. Should I even care, though…? Probably… Maybe I can find a book or someth-“
“Who’re ya talkin’ to!?” Applejack called back, having finally heard Markus’ external musings and slowed down. “Winona! Come!” she also commanded, the playful pooch running off to walk beside her owner.
“… Nobody.”
The orange equine stopped and gave a questioning glance at the slow moving male, cocking her head to the side for a moment. “You mean ‘nopony’, right?” she corrected, still standing there and giving the increasingly strange stallion a chance to catch up.
Markus returned the confused look, but then became just a tiny bit irritated. “No, actually… I didn’t.”
“You’re not from around here, are ya?” she surmised, subconsciously looking him over. Maybe he was a changeling? Nah… there’s no way.
Markus’s expression softened as he took a deep breath, beginning to move with a tiny bit more speed. “Not by a longshot. Nor should I even be here at all,” he replied very plainly, shifting a little to keep his backpack on his back as comfortably as an equine could.
She had to admit his negative attitude was slightly infectious. The Element of Honesty gritted her teeth and had to stave off an increase in her voice’s volume. “… Well, how’d ya get here?” came the next logical question as the two entered the borders of the Apple family’s property.
Markus opened his mouth to speak, but again, he hesitated. He closed his mouth, looking away from the mare as if he were trying to remember. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her that he had just died…
Applejack took his body language for an answer before he could come up with one. “Don’t remember, Markus?”
“… Close enough, yeah…” he lied, looking around him at the several rows of apple trees, currently bare.
"Are ya sure you're alright? You’re worryin’ me now.”
“I’m hungry, thirsty, and in pain,” came a rather harsh voicing, briefly stumbling as one of his rear hooves hit a rock and made him trip a little. He let out a sigh. “I’m also breathing.”
Applejack really didn’t know what to say. It felt like negativity practically gushed from his voice and radiated from the rest of him.
She nodded softly in response, her smile now forced and beginning to gradually fade as she turned her attention away from him. The next several minutes of their walk back was spent in near silence. As the farmhouse came into view, Markus’s wandering thoughts eventually bore fruit.
“… Applejack.”
The sound of her name startled her just a bit, her smile returning to her face as she looked the unhappy equine in the eye. “Yeah?”
“… Do you know anything about a Chaos Orb?” Markus quipped, his expression blank save for the tiniest of grimaces.
The southern accented Earth pony shook her head. “… Ah’m afraid ah don’t. Sorry…”
“Do you know anyone who might?”
There he went with that “anyone” word, she thought as her smile grew into a more sincere one, nodding her head in turn. “Ah certainly do! Her name’s Twilight Sparkle!”
“Does she live near here?”
“She lives in Ponyville. Ah’m guessin’ ya’ll wanna meet her?”
“Very good. Have a cookie. I don’t have a cookie. Darn.”
Applejack looked back at that last snarky remark, a frown adorning her countenance as they came up to the farmhouse door. “Did ah do somethin’ to offend you?” she quipped, unable to stop herself.
Markus simply shook his head. “Nope. I’ll let you know if you do, but I’m sure you’ll get used to me before that happens. If I stick around, that is.”
What the hay did that mean, she thought, opening the door to let Winona excitedly rush into the house to run off all that extra energy she seemed to have. Markus couldn’t help a chuckle. “Easy, Finn! … Err…”
“That’s Winona. Who’s Finn?” she corrected as the unicorn stepped inside. Markus would be rubbing the back of his head if he still had his hands.
“Uhhhh… sorry. Finn’s my dog back home. Huuuuge, fluffy dog, barely out of being a puppy. I’m so used to him running past me or bowling me or my siblings over with his weight.”
Makes sense to me, Applejack thought, nodding at her guest. “Make yourself at home, Markus!” she told him, before walking into what looked like the kitchen. The male took a moment to look around the room; there was a table in the center of the room, surrounded by stools that looked about right for an equine to use. A few cabinets sat scattered on the walls and a hat rack stood to his immediate right. He elected to awkwardly remove his backpack and place it next to such.
Taking a few steps into the house itself, he also noticed another equine in the corner. Its… no, HER fur was a lime green and she sat in a rocking chair, snoozing in the latter. She looked old. Moving on.
He could hear voices from the kitchen. One belonged to Applejack, but the other sounded male, and only occasionally gave a terse affirmative or negative answer. Markus didn’t go in. He would rather just linger by the door, attempting to pace back and forth to try to get this “four legs” thing down. He began very quietly making a sort of rhythm, making low, nonsensical noises with each step that he hoped would help him in the long run. The sounds of hoof-falls on the upper floor didn’t help, though.
“Applejaaack!” another voice called, followed by sounds of someone coming down a flight of stairs. That voice had a southern inflection as well, but it sounded younger.
“She has kids… Of course she has kids…” Markus muttered softly, and as if on cue, the little girl… filly entered the room. A yellowish coat with a red mane and tail and a comically large pink bow in her mane. Definitely female. She was walking to the kitchen, apparently not having been heard, when she noticed the stranger out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to look at Markus and a smile appeared on her face. “Oh! Howdy, Mister!” she greeted, approaching him, much to Markus’s eternal delight. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“… I got lost,” came his terse reply, looking away from the small equine. He couldn’t really hide the look of annoyance on his face.
“Oh! Well, my name’s Applebloom!”
“And I’m Markus. Didn’t Applejack call you or something?” the unicorn replied almost immediately, refusing to look at the child. She seemed to notice this, but didn’t question or bring attention to it.
“Oh!” Applebloom turned around and headed towards the kitchen again. Her voice could be heard very clearly from where he stood.
“Applejack, when’s supper?”
“Ah’m makin’ it, sugarcube.”
“Who’s that unicorn in the other room?”
“That’s Markus. He’s gonna be eatin’ with us.”
“He looks funny.”
“Applebloom, that’s not nice.”
“But he doo-“
“Applebloom…”
“I’m sorry…”
“That’s better. Now go wash up for supper.”
The little pony left the kitchen with a slightly peeved look on her face, going into another room to presumably do as she was told. Markus looked down at himself. New body aside, he definitely felt a little bit dirty now that he thought on it. “… Couldn’t hurt,” he told himself, starting towards the same door that Applebloom had gone into. “… Do these ponies have running water?” he found himself saying as he approached the door.
Markus was then promptly whacked in the face as the door swung open. He stumbled back and bit his lip to contain a string of profanity before releasing a long, pained groan. Applebloom looked at him with apologetic eyes once she saw him. “I’m sorry, Mister Markus!” she quickly apologized as the stallion brought a hoof up to hold his nose (once he was able to get his muscles to allow it).
Reflexively, he shot an angry look at the little filly, but he didn’t say anything, instead just stepping into the apparent washroom while poor Applebloom sulked away, feeling bad about it.
Indeed, they did have running water. He managed a slight, briefly kept smile as he stepped towards the sink… Now to turn it on.
Markus awkwardly moved to put his front right leg on the basin, managing to nudge the valve open to allow cold water to run from the faucet. He promptly put his head next to the stream, drinking deeply to alleviate his dry throat. It tasted clean enough. After taking a very long drink, he felt just a little bit stronger than he had previously.
Then he glanced up at the wall and the mirror mounted right in front of him, getting a good look at himself at last. He stared at himself for quite a while, examining his new body. Markus had much bigger brown eyes (“… Do they need to be that big?”), his horn looked rather dull (“No goring for me, I guess”), and he had to say… wearing his favorite hoodie looked pretty damn stupid on a creature with four legs.
He turned towards the door and looked at himself from the size, now noticing the mark on his flank. To him, it looked like a telescope aimed at what appeared to be a nebula (a planetary nebula, to be precise) of brilliant reds, blues and yellows, with. Markus raised an eyebrow; he wasn’t sure why he had such a unique marking on his flank. He thought it to be appropriate, though. He WAS an astronomy student before… you know, he died.
Now satisfied that he knew what he looked like, he left the washroom but stopped in the doorway to avoid bumping into another pony. It… no, he had red fur with a sort of blondish mane and tail. He also had some sort of harness around neck that looked like something a plow would attach to. He was also huge by comparison, and even his hooves looked powerful; like this one could easily break his neck if he wanted to. Quickly forgetting that image, and after seeing the mark on his flank, he noticed the one adorning the draft pony’s body: an apple half, core included.
The huge stallion gave a look towards the former human with a mostly blank expression, and the two made eye contact. He looked the quiet type, he’d say that much. But those eyes made him think of himself, actually. They looked like his own when he looked at his human reflection: neutral, thoughtful, possibly tired. Markus watched as Big Mac walked right past him and into another room.
After watching the doorway that the draft pony had disappeared into for a few seconds, Markus fully left the room and gave a quick try at shutting the door with one of his hind legs. He began to smell something cooking in the other room. It smelled like apples, along with another scent he couldn’t quite name. Either way, it made his stomach rumble deeply, and he decided to investigate.
Entering the kitchen, it looked surprisingly similar to what he’d expect from a normal one. Everything was smaller and there was no refrigerator, but fairly familiar nonetheless. Applejack, whom was facing away from him, was standing near the oven and watching its contents while Winona had curled up on a pet bed in the corner. Markus contemplated asking Applejack how long it would be before supper was ready, but one of his expressions for hunger was “I could eat a horse, hooves and all.” Considering his first impressions on his hostess, he didn’t think he’d risk sounding like a cannibal by way of Freudian slip.
He suddenly found himself wondering if Freud had existed in this place at any point.
Dismissing this random thought (and many other branching off it), he slowly walked over to a window and peered outside. The sun was just disappearing over the horizon, with just a few small clouds littering the sunset colored sky.
“Oh, howdy Markus!” The unicorn jumped a little and snapped his gaze to the one that had found him. She was looking at him over her shoulder with a soft, friendly smile, reaching up to fiddle with that hat of hers.
“Hi… What’s that smell?” he quipped, turning to face her and walking towards her. In response, the orange coated mare stepped back to let him see the apple pies sitting inside the oven. “Ooooh… I thought I smelled apple pie,” Markus remarked, smiling a little.
His eyes then wandered up to the counter next to her and he noticed a good amount of what looked like hay, wrapped into bushels about the size of a log of firewood.
“Look appetizin’?” his host chimed as she took a whiff of her own, sighing softly.
Markus nodded absently, staring at the hay. It made sense; horses… or ponies or whatever are herbivores and he couldn’t really picture them eating meat. Applejack followed his gaze to the bales, then wordlessly picked one up by one of its cords and carried it to her guest before putting it down at his feet… hooves. “If you’re that hungry, then go ‘head and chow down!” she invited him, stepping back.
Markus looked at the small hay bale, then at Applejack, then at the bale again, his expression unsure. In his mind, he was wondering how it would taste and he thought it to be just a little bit stupid/comical that this mare was offering him hay. Again, it made sense. He just thought it was disgusting.
And he probably wouldn’t have accepted it if it weren’t for two things.
1: He was starving, and
2: perhaps due to his new body, he felt compelled to eat it anyways. “… Thanks, Applejack,” he said in a low tone of voice, picking it up by the cord with his teeth and moving to leave the room. He took it to the front room where he had left his things and, after giving it some thought, elected to inelegantly open the front door and take his meal outside so he could be alone with his voice and his ponderings.
Applejack watched Markus take his dinner and walk out with that same soft smile still adorning her face. Once he was gone, though, she let out a breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding, clopping over to her now snoozing pet to sit by her and stroke her head with a hoof.
Her smile was gone now and her mind was filled with loads of questions about this strange unicorn, his clumsy gait, his apparent lack of magic use, his speech, and quite a few others that the author didn't feel like naming. But one question was holding her focus more than the others, and it refused to be ignored: “What was he hiding?”
Applejack was suspicious of him, unable to help it in spite of her nature. Their first verbal exchanges had Markus hesitating several times over seemingly basic, easy questions, and some of the ways he had answered her were so negative…
Winona opened her eyes as she grew tired of Applejack’s head petting, then looked at her owner. She sat on her haunches and pawed at her legs, getting the honest one’s attention.
Applejack gently smiled at her canine friend. “Ah’m okay, girl…” she reassured her pet, gently stroking Winona’s back. “… Just thinkin’ is all…”
One other question in particular sprang to mind now.
“Do you know anything about a Chaos Orb?”
Why the hay would he be looking for something called a “Chaos Orb?” It definitely didn’t sound like something good, given just a little bit of thought. If this pony wanted to find it… what would he do with it? More importantly, how should she go about deterring Markus from this thing?
A few methods came to mind. Running out to alert Twilight Sparkle seemed like a good one; nothing bad could really come of it, other than the possibility of her pies burning in the oven. Writing a letter to Princess Celestia could work, too, but Applejack thought that Twilight should be the one to make that decision.
Or she could just talk to him.
A loud ringing sounded through the room and snapped Applejack out of her thoughts, making her stand back up and run back to the oven to quickly pull out the tasty pastries. She took a long sniff of her handiwork and donned a satisfied smile. “Soup’s on, everypony!!” she then called at the top of her lungs, catching the attention of her brother, sister, and even the sleeping Granny Smith, as well as the rest of her relatives that were still out in the fields.
It was a veritable stampede as they all came back into the farmhouse, sitting down at the large table in the front room. Some of them came in through the front door, spotting an unfamiliar brown unicorn sitting on their porch and eating hay, but not paying him any mind.
Applejack’s call to dinner got Markus to look towards the window, but paid it no mind, since his meal was already in front of him. He would prefer to eat alone anyways. And while the sound of a veritable horde of equines rushing inside was something to behold in itself, he didn’t say anything to any of the ones that passed him (though he did offer a nod at the ones that looked at him).
The front door was shut and he could hear them all talking inside, the slew of southern drawls proving to be an interesting background noise.
Markus leaned down to take another mouthful of hay, having torn off the cords and devoured half of the bale by this point. He wouldn’t have thought it to be tasty if you had asked him a few minutes ago, but it was pretty okay. Maybe being a unicorn gave you a taste for such things.
From where he was perched, he could look out over the path that supposedly led to this “Ponyville” place. And he could believe it, too, as he saw what looked like a clock tower spire over the tree line. But that wasn’t what he was watching.
Markus was stargazing. He was looking for constellations, bright stars, and Mars. He noted the moon beginning to show itself on the horizon, committing that direction to memory. He’d need to know where he was going eventually; Markus couldn’t imagine that this “Chaos Orb” would be easy to find. Otherwise, that voice wouldn’t have given him a month to complete his task.
“… Does this place even have the same calendar?” he asked himself aloud, looking behind him as he heard a loud roar of laughter from behind. He wished he knew what the joke was. He also didn’t want to go in there and be subject to the inevitable avalanche of questions that he imagined he’d be hit with.
So he sat there, alone, watching the stars…
