two. she. monster.View Onlinehe. she. we.two. she. monster.two. she. monster. One of the last things I recall is a group of six mares, floating in the air, powered by the still-inexplicable items known as the Elements of Harmony. To this day I’ll never understand them, even though I have far more experience with them than I care to have – both as wielder, having utilized three of the six against Discord and Sombra…and as victim, when my own flesh and blood – my sister! – brought them to bear against me. The second to the last recollection is the blinding, searing pain as the harmonic forces within the Elements hit me harder than a rampaging hydra. I see nothing but prismatic energies, increasing, blinding me, enveloping me in a tornado of kaleidoscopic spellfire. A blaze of light runs through my soul, as sharp as the cut of a knife. I briefly experience a sensation where I feel as though I am cleaved in twain. But it’s the last sight that I see that hurts the most: As the rainbow tornado dissipates, I see a small alicorn filly with soft blue hair looking up timidly at my sister. The smaller alicorn begs for forgiveness, and Celestia embraces her, taking the small foal in a hug that makes me remember the past and why, I now realize, my war with Tia has been nothing but a expensively-futile folly, paid in blood and regret. But then I realize something that makes my heart stop: that filly is not me, she looks like me, when I was a foal, but that’s n— Then there is nothing but darkness. But not before I can scream. The next thing I feel is that I’m lying against what looks and feels like cold, polished wood. That, in and of itself, is the first sign that wherever I am, it’s not Castle Everfree. The wood is all I can make out, and that’s because my face is smashed against it; around the edges of my eyes is a cold, unfriendly light. With a great strain, I push myself up to my hooves, my eyes stinging and still flaring from the sensoria. I feel violently ill, and it takes virtually all my willpower to prevent me from voiding the last thing I had in my stomach – say, when was the last time I ate? It’s somewhat…discomfiting…to realize the last meal I had was a millennium ago. As my stomach settles down and my eyes refocus, I realize wherever I am…is not home. Gone are the deep, brilliant colors that make up the Everfree, or for that matter Equestria or even Equus in general. This place is….it’s faded, washed out, and even the brightest colors, like the deep red…it doesn’t feel alive. There’s no “pull” to it. A second later, I realize why: there’s no magic here. This place is barren, dead… Magicless. I recoil from the unnatural state of it all so much that I nearly forget that I needn’t worry: I am Nightmare Moon, or to use my birth name, Clare de Lune, or Princess Luna, to those who chose not to utter my regnal name. I am the Princess of the Night, the Regis of Nightmares, and an alicorn – a goddess! This place might have no magic, but I shan’t be here long – all I need to do is find my way out of this trap and make my way back to Equestria. I shall rule the land, and my sister will pay for what she has done to me! But for the moment, I’ll need to store my magic away. And that means…returning to my natural form. A shame, that; I’d grown to like the look the Nightmare Force had given me. I was finally the equal to Celestia, not her “darling little sister”, emphasis on little. And it’s not as though I was going to stay in my normal form permanently; I fully intended to return to my Nightmare form as soon as. So with a quick lighting of my horn… …nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing. Wondering what in Tartarus is going on – did Celestia’s damnable daughter, Twilight-whatever-her-name-is, slip something onto my horn while I wasn’t looking? And if it was correctly placed, my magic would be well-neutralized until it was removed. Calm yourself, Luna, I tell myself. There’s a valid reason for all of this. Frustrated, I opt to stretch; I need to keep myself limber in the event that physical situations are called for. With my magic neutralized, well, while I was hardly reduced to nothing, I had to be a little more careful. As an alicorn, the syncretism of the three tribes, I had the constitution, strength and durability of an earth pony…but even the hardiest of earth ponies have their limits. Well, then, if I am going to find my way out of here, I need to take better stock of my situation. Looking around, I realize where I am: a bedchamber. A monstrous bedchamber. The bed is as large as I remember Celestia’s having been, and while the room isn’t anywhere near as opulent as hers – or the one I had, for that matter – it is still well-furnished: a variety of woods and fabrics that are familiar, along with materials and textiles that are new to me. Seated to my left on a table that looks as though it is made of a smooth stone – yet is not – is a black, perfectly rectangular mirror…except that the mirror is dull, and has a name engraved on the bottom. To my surprise, the name is in Equish. Samsung, the name reads. So I must be a prisoner of this “Samsung”. Hrm. The name sounds Inarijin – has Celestia asked the kitsunes to be my gaolers? I look back at the bed, and my eyes narrow. That would explain the large bed, from what I remember, the Ō-kyūbi, the great nine-tailed emperor of the kitsunes had many concubines…and what a prize catch the Princess of the Moon would make for him! Well, I intend to show him the error of his ways. And if he’s lucky, I may just let him live to tell his progeny of his folly. Noticing that the door to the bedchamber is slightly ajar, it’s foal’s play to nudge it open quietly. To my surprise, the room is not only unguarded, but the path ahead leads down a long, tall hallway. In the distance, I can hear an odd clatter, like a myriad of wooden-clad hooves in applause. Perhaps there is a celebration at the capture of the Dreaded Nightmare Moon? If so, I will be more than pleased to teach them the foalishness of their ways. This plan of mine lasts right up until the point where I step on a board and it makes a strange, creaking sound. The applause suddenly stops, and a single voice calls out in perfect Equish, “Is somebody there?” And at that moment I tense, preparing for battle in this strange castle – whether I face the kitsune emperor or this Lord Samsung retainer of his, they are nothing compared to my might. And as my opponent steps into view, for the first time in my life, I know terror. My eyes widen and a gasp of shock utters from my mouth. I have fought the spirit of chaos itself. I have faced Tirek and bested him. I have even waged war against my sister and nearly came out on top had it not been for her use of the Elements. But this…this is an enemy I cannot beat. This is an enemy Celestia cannot defeat. Through the horrors of childhood, the terrors of youth and the darkest myths of my people comes the name of this abomination standing before me: a human. Though I try, I cannot take my eyes off him. Dear stars, the thing must stand well over seventeen hooves in height and weigh nearly eleven gemstone! I look at him with his unnaturally beige, furless flesh, save for the dark brown tuft on the top of his head. Beady brownish-gray eyes look back at me in surprise, I must have caught him off-guard as well. He is wearing trousers – though I have seen some species don them for reasons I’ll never understand, they seem rather restrictive – and a tunic that reads “The Byrds” in a highly-ritualistic script; I’ve no idea what it could mean. He closes his eyes for a second, and that’s all I need. Forgetting for a moment that my magic wasn’t working earlier, I cast an emergency teleport spell. Normally it’s meant to take me back to my bedchambers in Castle Everfree, but given the situation and all that has occurred, I don’t know where I’ll end up. By the time I realize of what happened earlier, I feel a tendril of magic wrap around me and I’m gone in a flash— —and the next thing I feel is pain. Screaming, wrenching pain. I look to where my right flank is sending jags of agony through my body and I see that my not-so-coordinated landing hasn’t quite brought me to safety: I crashed into what looked to be a broken chair, and a spar from said chair impaled me. Wondering if that monster is still around, I try and bite off the pain as I extract myself from the wood, but it’s too much. Collapsing on the ground, bruised and battered beyond care and almost entirely helpless, I slowly let go and surrender myself to my despair. By now, the most animal part of my mind has almost taken over, the fleeing instinct that is so strong within my kind; small wonder, given that I realize, with horrific clarity, what has been done to me: Celestia used the Elements to bind me and torture me, then throw me into a place that makes Tartarus look like the Unicornia Fields. That almost hurts worse than the healing wound on my side: my older sister just threw me away. I am nothing to her now. And then as if to pour salt into my wound, the abomination’s voice rings from above, both vague and yet all too clear: “Excuse me, but…are you okay? You’re not harmed, are you?” I pause into silence, both frightened by the creature’s sudden call – does he know I’m injured? Is it a trap? – and worn by my own wounds. Feeling like a foal, I cry myself to sleep. I wake up hours later, to a horrible din. That din is me, and to my shame, not only did I cry myself to sleep, I continued on doing so while in the dreamlands. The dream realm is powerful, and most mortals tend to forget that sometimes what happens there can affect the waking realms as well. The long and short of it? I’ve been crying – wailing – in my sleep. As a result of it, my mouth is parched and as dry as the surface of the moon. And as my thoughts settle upon that, a wellspring of emotions come up. My moon, my precious moon, a part of me and yet separate. My responsibility, my duty, my home… …my prison… I shut away the memories of a thousand years of being entombed under tons of lunar regolith and instead look at my injuries. The wounds look hideous, even though I know that eventually they will heal completely without even so much as a scar to mark their passing. Weighing the risks, I opt to remove my armor at the moment, as it will let me sleep and move easier. It also puts me in terrible danger if the human finds me, but I’m still weak and wounded, starving, parched and sooner or later my strength will flag. I know that legend states that alicorns do not need to eat, sleep, or anything that mortals do, and that we commit these acts merely because we wish to understand our ponies further. Nothing could be further from the truth. Goddesses we may be, but we are just as flesh and blood as our ponies – though we are ageless, we are not immortal. We can be killed. We can starve. We can suffer the slings and arrows of war and so much more. And as the stinging buzz in my side reminds me, we heal, just like our people do. But I will burn through my magic reserves if I do not get some food soon. Part of me wonders if I should risk leaving this darkened hovel and teleport back to where I was, to beg for food and water. Another part of me scoffs at the very idea; I am Nightmare Moon – I can take what I want, as it is my right! But that idea falls flat in the face of my recollections of the towering human and how much he overcla… …Wait. In my normal form, that human should be taller than me, obviously; I stand, maybe thirteen hooves, last I remember, but in this form, I am the same size as Celestia, a full sixteen hooves in height! I should almost be on par with the human, and based on the brief look I got of the creature, I should have been able to outmuscle him! But to me he appeared as a giant! Does he give off a terror aura or some sort of magic spell that was able to get past both mine and my armor’s defenses? The growling in my stomach cuts that line of thought off immediately. I need food, and fast – forget the “haven’t eaten in a thousand years” bit, I’m famished! Closing my eyes, I prepare a teleport spell to take me back to the last location, and a second later, I’m back in harsh light of the strange passageway, just in time to hear his voice in the distance: “Look, I don’t know when the last time you ate was, but I hope this will be of help.” A few seconds later, I see him walking from around the corner. He’s carrying a brown bottle and a plate of some kind; scents waft from the platter and though I can identify most of the scents, something from it smells exotic and strange – I’m not sure I want to know what it is. In any case, I wait until he reaches his destination and bolt into the room. For all I know, it’s a trap, and that strange smell is cooked alicorn. But by this point I’m too hungry and I take the risk…though maybe I should have worn the armor. What I see next makes me cry. Absolutely weep. Tears of joy and gratitude, that is. Whatever this monster is, cruel it is not. This is…well, to the commons it would seem like simple fare, but to a mare that hasn’t eaten in a thousand years and was expecting bread and water? This is…. I reach up and wipe the tears from my eyes, looking at the space where the human had been earlier, then back to the salad before me. Lettuce, onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and shreds of carrots, all lightly doused in a vinaigrette dressing that is music to my olfactory senses. At the side are two small loafs of bread, and next to it is a bowl of water. While I would have preferred wine, one cannot look a gift horse in the mouth, as the old Pegasopolean saying went. But what really catches my eye is the icebox that sits near this feast. I remember when Master Star Swirl had been working on such a device; to my amazement, this one is far more advanced and makes Star Swirl’s prototype look positively eohippean. Curiosity getting the better of me, I open it carefully with my magic, hoping the human won’t notice an— Oh, sweet stars…orange juice! He has orange juice! Greed possesses me and I take it immediately. Oh, sweet ambrosia, nectar of the alicorns, they called it in my day, the fruit that only grew in dragon lands and was beyond rare. I’d had it once at a banquet held by the king of Zebrica, and it was far more intoxicating than any elixir, its sweet explosion on my tongue making me nearly forget my troubles, even if for only a moment. I eat my repast and consume the remainder of the liquid preciousness, and I am content. But a realization comes to me: the human…I have wronged him. Not only have I stolen his precious elixir, but…no monster would savor such a sweet treasure as this. And he gave me not the meal of a prisoner, but the refection of a fellow being worthy of respect. Whatever my battle with Celestia, I should – and shall – hold nothing against this honorable creature, this benevolent Lord Samsung. As I finish my meal, I feel that I must be kind enough to leave a note. A princess must be honorable in all things, lest I end up a monster like Sombra. I fight the voice in the back of my head that says I already have. Summoning my writing implements – and thankful that the spell still works, as I have not used it in over a millennium – I leave a note for this generous soul. Hours later, I dare venture out again. The meal…I have never had an aubergine cooked like this before. I am in utter awe – if the chefs of old had ever created such refections, mayhaps I would have felt much more appreciated and would have never…committed to my current posture. Nothing could make this moment any more perfect. Perhaps it’s time t— As if life intends to further slap me in the face, a melody fills the whole of this bastion. And as I hear the notes…it breaks my heart. It’s The Symphony of Stars, created by the great composer Gran Concerto upon…upon…. Mother, why did you have to go? What was so important that you left me with Tia and departed, never to be seen again? What could have possibly compelled you to think that a teenaged mare, even if an alicorn, raising her baby sister, namely me, would someday become the rulers of the realm? Did you not consider Discord? Or Sombra? Or…what happened between Tia and I or the fact that our ponies spurned me? Wronged me? Abjured me? I…I barely remember you. I commissioned Gran Concerto to commemorate a symphony for you in the hopes that you would hear it and return, but… I cry like a foal, leaving the meal half-eaten. I run. I hear Lord Samsung say something and it almost seems apologetic, but…. Mother, I miss you so much. I retreat to the familiar darkness where I was earlier, slip on my armor and hide in a corner of this darkened place, fearful to turn on a light. I am, once again, reduced to a mewling wreck. Me, the Princess of Nightmares, the True Ruler of Equestria! Now nothing more than a frightened filly running from songs. What is happening to me? I’m back in front of the icebox, clearly made by a master artisan, gazing at the myriad treasures within, things that back in the palace could have only been kept as is by magical means – milk, a liquid so easily spoiled if not consumed nigh on the spot, and it has a place here. Even better – it’s chocolate! As if orange juice wasn’t enough of a valued prize – Lord Samsung has milk of chocolate as well? I down the liquid happily. I recall a time when I was ill with strephorn; Mother tended to me personally and let me have chocolate milk as part of my reparatives. Oh, Tia was so cross when the jar came from faraway Donkonia – and she couldn’t have any! Mother put her hoof down that day! ‘Tis a shame that my gaoler is in Celestia’s orbit; I see he would have been quite the ally to have. Plus, quite honestly, the human has amazing artisans creating miracles and wonders for this grand bastion! If I ever have the opportunity to meet this IKEA individual, I will have him make his masterpiece for my palace. Such incredible talent should never be wa— Red intersects within my mind’s eye and I see a flash of memory. And those memories are not mine. —In my mind there’s blood so much blood the screaming the knife I have to stop the knife why did you kill her you bastard why did you take her away from me oh God I’m in He— Lord Samsung has need of me, and in the span of less than a second, I enter his dark dream. This human has done me more of a good turn than I, as a prisoner, have a right to. He has treated me as the princess that I am, and for his kindness, this stallion deserves mercy – I could not, in good faith, be a princess were I to turn from this stallion in his hour of need. In his mind, I see horrors. I see another human, smaller, with a longer mane and…without going into detail, I presume this is his mare, and…oh, sweet stars…she’s being murdered by another stallion. I delve deeper, and I learn more. His name is North, and the mare’s name is Rachel. And she was murdered by her uncle, when he was visiting another kingdom, the knave taking advantage of Sir North’s sojourn to the Land of Cleve to murder…his niece? The foul monster committed nepticide – and of a mare he raised as his own? I weep for Sir North. Looking into his mind, I see why he departed his Grove of Gardens, though oddly I cannot see how Celestia fits into this. Perhaps she keeps the cur in a dungeon beneath Castle Canterlot? Or she is the one who created the dungeon he sits in now, though I know not where the town of Sankwentin is. He doesn’t deserve to live with this unending, unyielding self-torture. I push it away, replacing it with memories of the blue skies of Equestria and the hopes that he may be reunited with his Rachel within his dreams. But he may have questions as to why this occurred. We thank thee for the treats, I tell him through the dreamscape, though we imbibed the remainder of thine chocolate milk – wouldst thou be so kind as to replace it? And to make it crystal clear: And we hope to relieve thee of thine night terrors. We know much of Nightmares; we shan’t have our host afflicted with such as well. And though it hurts me, I send the song along of earlier this evening: the Symphony of Stars. It must have had meaning to him and his Rachel and I dare not expunge that from him. Though it wounds my own soul, I dare not let another suffer. I may be a Nightmare…but before that, I am the Princess of Dreams. I step outside into the bitter cold of winter. I have been a “guest” of Sir North for a month now and what I have discovered in that month has filled me with sorrow and shame – and hopelessness. For starters, I am no prisoner. No, that would be a kindness. What I am, is much, much worse. I am not even Luna. I discovered that one day while I got adventurous enough to wander through the house – just a house, not a palace, fortress, or anything of the like, merely an everyday home – and for the first time, I came across a mirror. I find, to my shock, there is a reason I am not Celestia’s size any longer…and that I am just the size of a normal mare, as though I were a typical female member of the tribes. And I cannot change back to the form of my birth…because there is nothing to change into. The blue filly that I saw Celestia tearfully embrace so long ago wasn’t my fevered imagination – that was Princess Luna, stripped away and purified of the Nightmare Force. Stripped away and purified…from me. I am just a nightmare. And yet I have Luna’s memories, emotions and regrets…but strangely, not her anger or rage. Maybe that was removed from me as well. But the truth is incontrovertible: I am just the Nightmare, merely Nightmare Moon. I am no princess. I am no prospective ruler. I am nothing. And with that epiphany, the world became clear: Sir North acted like no gaoler…because he was never one. I am an intruder in his home, tossed to wherever this is from Equus. I serve no value or purpose; indeed, I am nothing but a drain on him. And yet…yet even still, he continues to take responsibility for my presence, even when I cannot face him due to my shame. Instead, I take the time to familiarize myself with this wondrous world I’m in now. If I ever return to Equestria, I will use the knowledge…to better myself. To prove that I am somepony. That I. Am. Somepony! Luna’s problems are hers…or are they mine? Ours? I see this is going to be a problem for me to figure out, at least where she’s/I’m/we’re concerned. Oh, dear. I look at the white snow and words come to me: “A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n.” Those words were written down by a man named John Milton ages ago in a book called Paradise Lost. The book details about a once-bright spirit, having turned into an evil creature and made to suffer for eternity as penance for wrongs done – to watch the world as it continues, but to never be a part of it, even while being separated from the lands it considered its home. I am amazed the work is not about me. I set down the controller, feeling slightly bad about the pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream that I’d just eaten. Third one this month, but I can’t help it! I will have to send letters of thanks to Messrs. Ben and Jerry – the two of them must toil constantly to make such delights! I can’t help but wonder if Equestria has anything of the like. Maybe I will find out someday. Maybe I will even be that mare. That is, if me/she/we/Luna has been forgiven her/my/our transgressions. But Tia/Celestia/the Princess/my enemy/my sister/my sister? was always a forgiving soul. I can only hope that forgiveness will include me someday. Teleporting the empty tub to the trashcan, I look at the screen and sigh, bored. Honestly, I have got to find a better group of opponents in this game. For all their violent intentions and reputation…humans are...shitty, to use the local epithet...at war. If they fight like this, I’m surprised another species hasn’t conquered them yet! Lucky for them they’re the sole sapients in this reality, if everything I’ve read is true. I’m about to check out one of the other games on Steam – as always, my kind benefactor has given me my own account and has let me learn the ways of his people through these technological marvels – when I hear his vehicle pull up. I’m not ready to face him yet, and besides, I need to finish the laundry. Yes, me – the once princess of nightmares, now doing laundry. Perhaps I’ve been reduced to a housemaid, but better than the alternative, I think. At least I have somepony I can believe to take care of me. “Moon? It’s North. Can we talk?” I hear him call out, and as always, I make a step towards where he is. But then I pause in shame. All I have done, and all my sins laid bare…he will cast me out if he finds out what I really am. Funny that when I first saw him, I thought he was the monster – when I have since discovered the only monster in this dwelling…is me. Forgive me, Sir North – I long to thank you in-pony for all your kindness and everything you’ve done for me… …but until the day I prove worthy of the kindness you’ve given me, I dare not show my face before you.
four. she. soi.View Onlinehe. she. we.four. she. soi.four. she. soi. I listen to the music, as it’s nothing like I’ve ever heard. Instruments of sounds and tones that are unlike anything back in Equestria, possibly even all of Equus! And it’s all coming from this incredible little machine, via these silvery, plate-like things! I’d briefly heard something about a device called a “phonograph” during my all-too-short return to Equestria, but if these are the same, it’s more proof that human technologists are far more advanced than anything ponies or the like have ever dreamed of. With my magic, I gently place the disc into the slot, then close the cover. I then press the button named PLAY – there’s two of them on here, the other one for another kind of device I’ve never seen that looks rectangular – how odd. The music suddenly blares out at a loud pace and drives me back. Fortunately, this time I found the volume control; I think Sir North would be largely cross with me if I were to break his gramophone here. Then the singing starts, and though the voice is rough and minotaurish, I actually enjoy it… …right up until the chorus. “In the sunshine of your love”? I sigh. Why can’t there be a “moonshine of your love”, Mr. Creem? I’m standing around the corner from him. I want to come out, show myself to him and beg his forgiveness for everything I’ve done since I’ve been here – months, surely; it’s been so long that I’ve failed to keep track. But the shame wells up within me and I continue to hide. What is wrong with me? Sir North obviously doesn’t hate me, else he would have evicted me long ago; furthermore, from what I know of him, he is nothing less than an absolute gentlestallion. Gentlehuman? “Moon, would you please come out? I have a present for you.” His voice is as calm and cheerful as always. And for a moment I almost believe that I can trust myself not to make a donkey out of myself in front of him. But I don’t know if I can live with the shame and ignobility of the truth about me. I silently move underneath the coffee table, getting a clear view of things while Sir North holds a bag of that mysterious “plastic” material – after being here all this time I still cannot comprehend it: A material as hard as stone or wood, made from oil? – and from the shapes and form I can see something within is for me. And I wonder what it is, when suddenly I see a silvery apple-like shape on the bag, and my jaw drops. Admittedly, while I was in that small town, I’d heard faint musings about the Apple family, whoever they were, but from what I’ve seen of the culture here so far, the Apple clan that is composed of humans in this world makes some of the most advanced of these machines I’ve been using! And he got me one of my very own? Guilt roars through every mote of my soul. This…this isn’t right. He’s shown me nothing but kindness, given me things that no prisoner would ever hope to have. And now that I know I’m no prisoner, but instead an interloper, the fact that he has met my entrance with hospitality and equinity is far more than I ever deserve. And now this. I cannot stand to let this pass. But how can I…? The answer hits me as soon as it comes to mind and I dash back down to the house’s dunge…I mean, basement, in order to retrieve my armor. In it, there’s a fire ruby that kept within that helps to maintain the defensive spells enchanted onto it. Alone, the purity is worth a small fortune, or at least it did back during my time; I’ve no idea of its value in modern Equestria or even here; as for the gem, were it not for its purity, it would be a bit a dozen, perhaps in my time, maybe even less now. Plus, once I remove it, I will never be able to imbue it again, and my armor will just revert to unenchanted dark mythril, leaving me defenseless. But I doubt I will ever need protection on that level ever again. I am no longer questing for a throne that was never mine. In fact, I may never make it back to my home reality, ever again. And perhaps somehow Sir North can make use of this now-useless bauble. I hope the trade will be equitable; I dare not insult my good host. Without further thought, I wrench the ruby from its position. The deep vermillion glow sputters out and dies. With that, I immediately rush back to my hiding place. I arrive just in time to see him sigh and say in a somber tone, “I’ll…just leave it on the table.” That set in motion, I make my move: as he’s focused on the icebox, I rush over to the bag, grab it, then leave my gift in return. As he’s turning, I make sure I brush his hand with my wing so he’ll know I was there and whisper a quick, “We thank thee for the gift, Sir North,” before rushing into the room where I’m keeping my inventory. As I depart, I hear nothing but silence. A part of me hopes that I haven’t grievously insulted my host; I would not want that. I have nowhere else to go and he has been a lifeline to me, better to me than an un-pony such as I deserves. As I enter the room, I set the bag down and then open i— Oh. My. Stars! An…he didn’t…he did…. My jaw drops from the shock. An Ipod! I’d heard about these in one of the games I’d played; it makes the gramophone sitting next to me absolutely primitive in comparison. In fact, one of the books in the house indicated that if a regular phonograph was like having an orchestra play before you, one of these Ipod things was like being in a sea of orchestras! I could have a whole bevvy of music at my hooftips, once I mastered the instructions. I feel tears coming to my eyes, and it’s a feeling I’ve been all too familiar with since I came into Sir North’s life. He has been kind to me – too kind, and all I do is continue to act like a mule. I hope that the gem I gave him is a small compensation towards what I owe this gentlestallion, and were he a stallion and I a mare – a real mare – I would be happy to accept his troth. I hold the Ipod close to me and as I read the instructions on how to connect it to the electrical communication systems in the house, I know I will treasure this gift forever. But while I’m reading, I keep wondering… Why do they keep misspelling the device’s name as “iPod”? While dusting in the home, I almost knock over his treasure of treasures: the picture of his beloved Rachel. As I catch it in my magic before it falls to the ground, I get a good look at her. What memories I gleaned of her when I went into Sir North’s mind during his nightmare were just that – twisted, distorted memories of the mare – no, “woman”; an adult human female is called a woman, I need to remember that – that he loved. They look absolutely happy together in the picture, and it makes me feel a little uneasy inside. Not for their happiness, obviously, but rather for what I’ve lost myself: family, friends, everything. Or was it Luna that lost it? The thought stirs up all those feelings again: the pain, the loneliness, even simple things humans won’t understand, such as the fact that while I can “feel” their moon, it feels cold and dead, not a living part of me as Equestria’s had been. And that opens up more questions and thoughts: I am Luna. I was Luna. I am not Luna – at least, not anymore; of that last part I’m sure. I both love and hate Celestia, who may or may not be my/her/our sister – the pronouns trip me up and I’m not using the Majestic Plural in this case. And then I feel the crushing emptiness of a world where I shouldn’t exist and don’t belong. It makes me wonder: what of Luna? How fares she now that we are separate? I know Celestia’s forgiven her; my/our/her sister is just that kind of mare. And of her daughter, Twilight, whose full name I’m not sure of? She did the right thing in confronting me/us/her/Luna. I/we/she deserved to be put down. Eternal night? Damning Celestia to the sun? It would have been a death sentence for all of Equus. With a clear head not filled with fever dreams of becoming queen of all, I know that now. And just the other day I’d read about a man who lived nearly a century ago that started a global war and killed millions of people, many of them simply because they had different beliefs than he did. And to think…he would have been an amateur compared to what I/we/she/Luna would have done. I opt to take a shower, since I can hide the tears easier that way. Given what I’ve been through in my recent memory (even if it isn’t recent in Equestria’s time), and my fondness for these “combat simulator” games younger humans play – though I wonder where the term “first-person shooter” came from; I thought that was the point – you would think that I would be used to the noise of the past few days. I’m not. I can hear the constant roar of a crowd not too far away. There must be a day of celebration going on, but to me, given the timeframe and the summer sun, all it reminds me of is the last summer day that I/we/she/Luna participated in, the day of the Summer Sun Celebration, where I/we/she/Luna was finally freed from our prison…and then immediately, through my/our/her own stupidity, requalified for it once more. Though it hurt like nothing ever felt before, I am glad it happened. Luna is finally purified of her jealousy and madness, I presume, and as for me… …I hope I am better than what caused my creation in the first place. The noises get louder, so much so that I can hear them through my earbuds, and it all stirs up memories of a dark would-be queen staring down at her “subjects”, not knowing what would happen in just a few short hours. I do not know if Luna ever thinks of what occurred. I know that I obsess over it and the events of the past are, to use a term that I’d read in one of the many books Sir North has on the shelf, “a monkey on my back”. But right now, I just want to shut out the world and just keep listening to Vampire Weekend – what a curious name for a musical ensemble! – and hope the world forgets about me. About noontime, Sir North calls out for me and said he made lunch…and he was hoping that I would come out and join him. And this time…I would. I really would. But the noise gets louder outside – apparently that Prentice boy that Sir North oftentimes complains about is setting off something called a “firecracker” in the field behind the house – and I just lose it. Like a little filly, I hide beneath the blanket here that was left for me, wishing the noise and storm would all just go away. This is the final blow to any dignity that I, Nightmare Moon have: I once was the greatest power on Equus. I once, even if for a little bit, ruled the whole of the world. Now, I am just a crying filly hiding underneath a blanket in a world completely alien to me, with no hope of ever returning to my native reality. I wake up, and am shocked to discover that it is night. It…it no longer calls to me instinctively, and maybe it always did to me/us/her. Knowing that, I feel more alone than ever. Perhaps this sounds strange, but…I could use a hug right now. Fortunately, I know where I could get one. Unfortunately, he may hate me for it. As I head towards his bed, I wonder if this is the right thing to do. And I wonder if I’m being a foal about it. He…is a male. Not a stallion – a shame, but nothing in life is perfect, I suppose – but still a male, all the same. And I am but a female; damaged, worthless and a hanger-on, but a female still. What I’m suggesting is…improper, by my standards, perhaps even by the mores of modern Equestria. And, from what I know of this world, it’s a thousand times more so. Humans, as inexplicable as it is, are the only sapient species here on Earth. All they have is one another. Everything else is sub-sapient at best, merely sentient, or even less than that. And yet as I slide my forelegs around him and drape a wing over him, something feels…dirty. Like I’m expecting Tia/Celestia/that bitch/my sister/my sister? to break into the house just to yank me by the ear. But as I snuggle next to him, I suddenly sigh in contentment. I’m not sure why, but suddenly I feel as safe as I can be, like a newborn pegasus wrapped in the most comfortable cloud ever. I feel like a little filly again, safe in her/Tia’s/Celestia’s forelegs just as she used to do with me/us/her so long ago. Then I suddenly feel him stiffen in my grasp and the first thing I want to do is fly. Far. Fast. Now. But unfortunately, my left foreleg is pinned under him – heavens, humans are a lot more physically dense than I expected! And besides, I know I’m safe right now. Better than the explosions that had just occurred outdoors, reminding me of the savage war I/we/she/Luna/that idiot started. And while this might not be the safest place there is…I can think of much worse. In any case, I know I am safe; I know that on an instinctive level. I then feel something – multiple somethings – sink into my mane. I sigh, and – oh, right there! Perfect! – I/we/she haven’t had anypony do this in years! Yes, it’s a simple pleasure, but…but…. Oh, my…. Did I just nuzzle him? That’s….that’s rather intimate. I blush furiously, hoping that he cannot see that in the darkness of the room, or else I am done for. Thankfully, I finally feel him drift off into sleep. And as he slips into slumber, I gently nuzzle him again – a bit more chastely this time – and whisper how glad I am to have him as a friend. Perhaps, recalling Milton, it is better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven. And if Celestia meant this to be my hell, well, while I’m not exactly in charge…I’d almost be happy here. I sneak out of the bed at half past four in the morning, mainly because I think I have something in mind. Looking at the alarm clock, I notice that I think I’m becoming jaded with all this technology; humans don’t have magic naturally, so they invented it instead. I wonder: If we ponies had also gone the technological route, would we have the skills we do? After all, the mules and donkeys, though they are distantly related to ponykind, do not have magical abilities, and I/we/she was not back in Equestria long enough to ascertain how much that species had changed. Would they have things like alarm clocks, ready to chime a soft tune to wake a softly-dozing mare or stallion from a peaceful night’s slu— As I think about that, I’m about to turn red with embarrassment. Dear stars, what was I thinking? I invaded Sir North’s privacy and forced myself on him! He will think me a mare of the night – in that other way, no less! What have I done? I slink off to the kitchen. I’m hungry, and since he won’t be up for another hour, maybe…I could do the cooking? There’s a gruyere, spinach and mushroom omelette that I’ve been meaning to try. Admittedly, I’ve not done it in a long time, and I will have to adjust to some of the cooking equipment here, but…I’m sure I can do, it, right? One foreleg with scorched fur and a scalded hoof later, I guess I didn’t. At least it will heal within the hour. I just hope he likes the breakfast…. “There’s a star mare waiting in the sky….” Okay, I know that’s not how the lyrics go, but maybe if I’d shown up decades ago, good sir Mr. Bowie might have said, that, right? At least I think he would. Perhaps I should visit this “England” place and pay him a visit. Discreetly, of course; I wouldn’t want to jeopardize what little life I have. I’m outside right now in the late July night, looking into the clear, starry night, at the beautifully plump moon, facing it all – knowing it’s not mine. None of it is. The only stars under my command now are the ones in my mane – and those are more a part of my nature rather than the brilliant magical energies that burn within the night. I suppose that’s Luna’s problem now. I look at the asphalt location where the motoriz – car, must remember that term – normally is. But good Sir North isn’t here. He’s somewhere out there, beyond the mountains, down in the valley below. Some person named “Carrie”, and something about a fruit of some kind…a date I believe. That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and I wonder if I should teleport his laptop up here so I can look up alternate meanings of the word. Oh, wait – how stupid of me! A date! Obviously this Carrie person must be supplying him with a calendar! I facehoof at my own silliness; how could I not have realized that? The year’s more than halfway over, if I’m reading the human calendar correctly; he may very well be obtaining some calendars so that he’ll be prepared when the change of the year comes. That’s so very much like him – diligent and through. Very charming qualities to have, and absolutely natural for my good Sir North. At last, I hear the thrum of his car down the street, and I teleport myself within the house. If I time it correctly, I’ll be able to make sure the auberg…“eggplant”, they call them eggplants here…Eggplant Parmesan is nice and warm for him. I spent the whole day working on the recipe; I hope he’ll like it. Oh. So that’s what “date” means. A synonym for courting. Something tells me I should be concerned about that…. I hear him arguing over the phone with someone. My word, I’ve never heard him so angry before! While my good Sir North is nothing but a gentlestal…gentleman, to hear him rage and sputter at the obvious scoundrel on the other side. That rapscallion must really deserve a thrashing if Sir North is this angry. “Look, you said, I wasn’t going to have to attend SoutherNet this year!” Moving over to the kitchen to get a better view, I realize that I forgot to do the dishes. Well, I suppose I’d best get to that. “What about Nate? Guy lives in Nashville for fuck’s sake – he should be the one to go!” I would hate to be this Nate fellow; I assume this Village of Na…no, it would probably be called Nashville; not everything is named the way it used to be back in the day. In any case, I assume Nashville is close to this Southernet. I wonder what Southernet is. Maybe I’ll have to leave a note for Sir North asking hi— “Fine, I’m leaving!” My heart suddenly stops. Sir North…is leaving? Does this “Eddie” have such sway over Sir North that he would leave…me? I suddenly feel cold, colder than anything I’ve felt before. The world turns claustrophobic, worse than my time imprisoned in my/our/her/Luna’s moon. My mind suddenly turns to a maelstrom and the only clear thought I have is radiating through my skull, accompanied by the sound of a thousand crystal bells sounding, as if I were back in the wreckage of the Crystal Empire after my/our/her battle with Sombra. I don’t want to be alone, the thought screams in my head. I don’t, I don’t…. He’s going to leave me – the realization fully sinks in now and I think I’d rather have the Elements used against me again than to feel this. Why? What did I do? Please don’t leave me, Sir North. You are my protector, my succor…. My friend…. My only friend…. Tears sting my eyes and everything becomes a blur. I look up and see him, and I know he’s surprised to see me there, but I cannot hide anymore – I don’t want to hide. Let me live with my shame, let me be as damned a mare as that poor woman in The Scarlet Letter, but please, if there is any mercy in the universe, please don’t let this happen. And before I know it, the words are tumbling out of my mouth: “Th-th-thou…art leaving?” I barely hear what he has to say next. My body is no longer under my control. I rush at him and hold him like the terrified little filly I am, no different than the foal once afraid of her/Luna’s own shadow. Or perhaps I am that shadow and I was ever afraid of the filly attached to it. Either way, I know I’m more afraid than I have ever felt in my life and the only thing I know is that I don’t want to be alone, ever again! “Please do not leave us,” I beg him. Sir North, I will do anything if you do not leave me. I will be your scullery maid, your…I’m not even sure of what I mean to you, but please, please do not leave me! Then I feel his fingers running through my mane once more, can feel the warmth and strength as each bit of flesh touches a star within my mane. And then I feel a hand cup my face and bring mine to his as he asks, “Why would I leave? I live here!” “But we heard….” Suddenly I find the floor very, very interesting. I don’t know if I have a right to what I’ve asked. Perhaps this Eddie is the family patriarch, and Sir North must leave for familial duties. Or perhaps it’s something else. Either way, he looks at me and says, “I think we need to talk.” Yes, yes we do. A few seconds later, we are on the chaise. He looks drained, as though he’s been through a battle of wills that he has barely won…or barely lost. I wonder if I have anything to do with that. Then I remember the events of the past few months and I cannot help but be afraid. I am an interloper in his home, a guest that was never bidden to be here. I am nothing. I am less than nothing, the fever dreams and egotism of a mare who has since learned her lesson and tossed me aside – rightfully so. But I owe him an answer. For all that he has done for me and for all that he has cared for me, I owe him that much. I shuffle my hooves nervously, wondering if this is the first, last and only time we will ever talk face-to-face before he throws me out of his home for being, well, me. Taking a breath for courage, I begin: “We…we suppose that we should start first: We are…our name is Nightmare Moon, and we are…we are a nightmare. The nightmare, truth be told.” “I’m sorry, Moon, but I don’t follow.” The confusion on his face is as plain as moonlight and I then tell him everything. About my past, and my shame. About Luna, and her/our/my creation. About my/our/her war against Celestia and the aftermath. About my/our/her return to Equestria after a thousand years of exile, only to be bested by Celestia’s daughter and her shieldmaidens. “But we failed,” I tell him, “and for our crimes were sentenced to the moon for a thousand years – and now that we have failed to learn our lesson, we were banished here. We must wonder if we were even expected to survive the Elements’ assault.” As I tell my tale, I watch him carefully; it may be the only warning I have before he evicts me. And yet…his eyes. They show both utter disbelief and, at the same time, genuine sorrow. And in this waking state, I cannot read his mind; that is not within my power. But the look on his face…is he horrified by my actions? Does he feel sorrow for what happened to me? Or for what happened to Luna? Will he trust me? Have I lost his friendship? Did I ever have it in the first place? He is not in Celestia’s orbit, not as I thought he was…but he’s not in mine, either, nor will he ever be. I am no princess…and he is only my knight in my eyes. “Wait, a thousand years?” “Celestia used the Elements of Harmony on us. It’s a powerful set of magical amulets which embody the spirit of harmony itself. Once used on an opponent, it becomes a fearsome weapon the likes which you have never seen.” He seems to be grasping at comprehension; I can hardly blame him for that. “So…it’s like a direct hit from the Death Star?” he asks. A Star of Death? Other than that being one of the epithets used for me during the war, I know nothing of a “death star”. “We are…not familiar with this ‘Star of Death’ you refer to.” “Well, it’s a giant space station, an – waitaminnit, we’re getting off track; I’ll just show you Star Wars later. Anyway, go ahead.” “We…see.” I scratch the back of my head nervously; it’s an odd habit, one I’ve never had until recently. I wonder if access to human media has exposed me to that. “In any case, after a thousand years, we returned with revenge in our hearts, but we were countered and defeated by the Elements of Harmony once more. By Celestia’s daughter. But this time, it was much worse for us.” As the memories of pain and anguish return, I try to steel myself against them, but that’s not in the cards. “We were…painfully torn away from Luna, torn asunder by the very Elements themselves. It…it hurt.” I feel tears coming again and out of the corner of my eye, I see him reaching for me. I don’t know if it’s to throw me out or to comfort me, but regardless, I must remain strong to finish this – if it’s the last thing I do before I never see him again, I will give him his due. “We thank thee, but…we must be strong on our own.” I pause for breath briefly before finishing. “The next thing we remember aside was the very nightmare we were forced to live: being exiled here. And now we are here, a guest in thy manse – an unbidden, unwanted guest, no doubt. And now…thou art leaving us, abandoning us as we deserve.” The look in his eyes is unreadable. I don’t want to leave. This, even in the smallest way, this has been my home for the past seven months. I don’t want to be alone. I want to mean something to somepony. And even though I don’t say it, I look at him and give him a silent plea: Please don’t abandon me. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to hide anymore. I’m so tired of this. “Why did you choose to come out now? Why not before? You’ve obviously made yourself at home here, but you’ve never come out, even when I asked. Why now?” Even though it will damn me, I tell him the truth. “When we first arrived, we thought thee a monster summoned by Celestia to eternally punish us for our sins…in our world, humans are to ponies as monsters are to thine; inequine beasts whose only purpose is to kill and terrorize. But as we got to know thee, we realized thou art kind and gentle…and it is we who art the monster.” I hear a choked sob and it ends before I realize that sound came from me. “Once we realized that we were the monster, we feared that thee would push us away once thou knew the truth. That we would lose the only friend we have had since our punishment, just as we have lost so much already.” “How could you think you’re a monster?” “We no longer know what we are. We were created from the pain and suffering of Princess Luna and now we have been ripped away from her. What are we now? What purpose do we have? Are we even real?” One beat. Two beats. Three. My heart rages in staccato. And then… …he embraces me. He holds me close, runs his fingers through my mane, and whispers a simple question, one that I’ve struggled to answer these past few months: “Do you feel real?” Yes, yes I do. And it hurts so much. The shame that I must live with. I am not even blessed enough to have forgotten my/our/her crimes. And in the end I must live with the memories. I thought I’d cried more than enough tears today. But more still come from me. My mouth is dry and my eyes feel red and stinging, yet the tears won’t stop. And then he tells me something I long to hear: “Moon, you are no monster. I don’t know where you get that. If anything, what I see is a sad, lonely female in need of a friend.” “Are we friends?” I dare. He looks at me and nods simply, giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. In return, I nuzzle him. Well, it’s a friendly gesture and he is my friend…it’s not like there’s anything else behind it! He holds me for the longest time and when we both pay attention, hours have gone by and I’m exhausted. In a good way. And hungry. He then looks down at me and asks, “You know, I’m famished. Why don’t we just order in tonight. Chinese okay with you?” “Chinese?” Not familiar with it, but sure, I’m an adventurous mare. Just from watching him, I learn how to use these “chopped sticks” pretty easily. He’s absolutely in awe of my magic. I wonder how he’d react if I told him that I’m just as in awe of human technology and that magic is rather pedestrian and utilitarian to me. As I take a bite of the Kung Pao Tofu, I’m impressed by the cooking – Chinese food has all the flavor and exoticness of Zhanguonese food, and from my/our/her last state visit just prior to the Crystal Empire incident, I recall a spicy bamboo dish that was very similar to this. I wonder just how similar our worlds are. It will be something to study in the future. I take a sip of the merlot – I cannot countenance how Sir North stands that “beer” swill of his; wine is the gift of the land and a flavorful bounty to be had, nearly as valuable as orange juice…which I’ve since found out is extremely common here on Earth. I still can’t believe how stupid I felt when I discovered that. During dinner, he tells me everything about himself. Like for starters, his family’s name isn’t Samsung; that’s the name of the artisans who built some of the electronics. His name is actually North Shores, a very stallionly sort of name, if you ask me. He tells me of his life growing up here in Los Angeles – the name of the major settlement here as well as the greater area – and of how he met his Rachel. Eventually he tells me about what happened, and I swear upon whatever I am left within me I will once again be the nightmare and visit every horrific crime on Russell if I can. “Moon, I…just leave it be. Bastard’s rotting in jail for life and I don’t want to give him any extra victories by making him think anyone even remembers he exists.” I pause at that, but accede to his request. Even still, should Sir North ever change his mind, I will unleash Tartarus upon that monster, Russell. I may be a monster, but he is beyond that. Finally, as dinner winds down, and Sir North serves us ice cream – I’m glad I didn’t eat that carton…or at least more than half of it – I have one final thing to ask. I have no right to do so, all things considered, but if he can arrange shelter for me until I find some means of taking care of myself, I will forever be indebted to him – more than I already am. “We have nowhere else to go, but if you will be so kind as to allow us to loan us means of surviving for a short period of time, I would be forever in your debt.” That is what I mean to say. He doesn’t even let me get that far. “You’re welcome to live with me,” he tells me, matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t expected anything else. This man, this generous, honorable man wants me to say with him. Me! It’s all I can do to cry tears of joy. For the first time that night, I’m welcomed to his bed. No, not that way! In any case, as I lie there, I tell him about my more positive experiences with the moon, and that I/we/she would have wished our ponies would have appreciated it more. But if that had been the case, I would not have come into being. As I think about it, a lullaby Mother – no, I don’t want to get into that argument right now – sang to me/us/her long ago came to mind, and before I know it, the soft, lilting melody is coming from my mouth. The song is in a language so old that I’m not even aware of what half of it means, only that it makes me think of Mother. I haven’t seen her in countless centuries, but now, with my exile, I probably never will again. But at least I have someone here with me, and better exile than being imprisoned once more…or worse, imprisoned in the place you’ve been exiled to. Before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep, my head falling towards the pillow. When I wake up with the first rays of dawn, I see him, still laying there, asleep and at peace. No more nightmares – well, okay, one, as I’m still here – and things will be better from now on. I’m sure of it. Finally, as I’m watching him, he opens his eyes, briefly blinking away the last vestiges of slumber. “Good morning, Sir North,” I tell him, happy to experience a morning for the first time in ages. “Morning, Moon,” he says back, giving me a half-awake smile. He then props his head up with his hand, giving me a more studious look. “So what now?” What now, indeed. As I turn to glance out the window, I acknowledge to myself that I need to seriously consider it. What will I make of myself in this world? I wish to learn more about it, to become an expert at these devices and knowledge so that should I ever return to Equestria, I may be able to better my little po…my fellow ponies. But I may never have that chance…and I may never even have the chance to study all here. I am, after all, an alien in a world that may never understand or desire me. And having played enough of their games – and having beaten them in quite a few of those – I know what humans can sometimes think about extraterrestrials such as me. Even still…if this be my exile, I’d rather it be my home. My choice is clear. Turning back to Sir North, I say with a smile, “I think….I’ll live.”
six. she. alis volat propriis.View Onlinehe. she. we.six. she. alis volat propriis.Author's Note Yes, this contains the original ch2, but a lot of it was rewritten. I'd recommend rereading. six. she. alis volat propriis. I’m soaring high above the clouds, eight miles high, watching the sun set as a string of pearls lights up the cold, expansive dark beneath me. In the distance, the City of Angels and her suburbs glow with the joy of people switching from their daytime schedules to their nighttime plans, enjoying the beautiful yuletide season. Had this been my homeland, I would have been thrilled to see this come to pass…but had this been my homeland, and this occurred – I probably wouldn’t exist, not an iota. Up here, however, the skies are clear and cold, an uncontrollable sun starting to slide down beyond the line of the Pacific Ocean. Slipping below the clouds, I feel the light patter of snow fall on my back as I knife my way towards the ground. North told me that snow in Southern California, at least here in the mountains, isn’t common, but that the white covering the whole of the Southland is nigh a miracle. Part of me is reminded by the old Hearth’s Warming Eve tales of the Windigoes and their blanketing of the world with the cold of their dark arts, but that’s another world, another place, another time…and what the falling white here, is nothing more than holiday cheer. Winging my way back towards the mountains, confident that no one will see me, I move on; between the darkening skies and the illusion I placed, the only thing anyone should see is just another rare and endangered California condor trying to survive in this anthrocentric world, something that I’m altogether familiar with. Even still, I know I probably shouldn’t be out here; all it would take is just one slip-up on my part, and suddenly my picture is all over some conspiracy website at the very least. But North’s displeasure aside…I have wings. I’m not meant to be constantly cooped up in a house twenty-four hours a day. I’m a mare with needs and desires and one of those is to have a normal life. Well, as normal as I can, given the circumstances. Landing in a copse of trees by the side of the house, I’m able to see what the mailcarrier brou…oh, good, there’s the Christmas gift I got for North. Admittedly, he kinda already knows what it is, given that I had to borrow his credit card, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Pausing just long enough to grasp the package in my telekinetic field, I then teleport straight into my room, the one that he always jokes looks like IKEA, the Disney Store, Hot Topic, Spencers and Forever 21 waged a war for marketing domination – I have plushies, the laptop he got me, the bed, dresser and a desk. Opening up my dresser, I debate briefly on what I should wear. But then I remember he’s going to be home late tonight, so it’ll give me plenty of time to make dinner and such. Plus, having been out there on a flight, I’m due for a shower, and probably need to preen my wings as well. Fishing out my Seattle Mariners jersey and a pair of jeans I had to magically tweak to fit me, I head towards the shower. But as I’m leaving my bedroom, I see the one thing present that doesn’t match the rest: a polished oak pedestal upon which sits my old armor – Nightmare Moon’s old armor. Looking at it stirs up all those old feelings again: the pain, the loneliness, the things I can’t share with North, such as the fact that while I can “feel” their moon, it feels cold and dead and not a living part of me as Equestria’s had been. And even that line of thought opens up more questions and thoughts: I am Luna. I was Luna. I am not Luna, at least not anymore; of that I’m sure. I both love and hate Celestia, who may or may not be my/her/our sister – the pronouns trip me up and I’m not using the Majestic Plural in this case. And then I feel the crushing emptiness of a world where I shouldn’t exist and don’t belong. And then there is my own self-loathing. I may have abandoned my name and “birthright” but I can never run too far away from what I am – I see it every damn time I look in the mirror. And every time just before I see my reflection I hope it changes; I hope to see midnight blue, the starry mane of night and normal aquamarine eyes. And then every time I look I see unnaturally black fur, the violet of a nebula and inequine slits of turquoise. I’ve never admitted it to North, but when I abandoned the “Nightmare” part of my name, I wanted to change it all completely, to never even have so much as a reminder of my heritage. But a pony can never run from her cutie mark or what it’s telling her. I’m glad I decided to take a shower first before starting dinner. It’s easier to hide the tears that way. I’m adding the finishing touches to the quiche when he gets home. As usual, I wait until he’s completely in the house and the door closed before I rush over to hug and nuzzle him. My savior, my best friend…my first and only friend, unless you count the ghosts of the past. But that’s not a fair comparison of what North means to me. He was the first one to dry my tears, to offer me a home and a life, to give a Nightmare dreams of her own. He knows the loneliness I feel, because he felt it for years as well. I know he doesn’t like talking about his deceased wife much, but from what little I know of Rachel, she was absolutely wonderful to him as he deserves. And now he has me. As he is so fond of saying, “Yeah, life sucks.” From the kitchen I can hear the clattering of his fingers against the keyboard; it sounds like a host of thundering hooves racing towards me. Admittedly, I could watch his fingers type all day; I’ve known a few griffins or minotaurs that had similar digits, but none of them seemed to have the talent that North does, moving those slim digits with grace that’s only matched by his smile an— Damn wings; there they go again. Why the hell do they keep doing that? I wonder if I picked up some kind of neurological disorder when I was split from myself/ourselves/herself/Luna. Well, unless a miracle happens and I get ahold of a simpl…sorry, doctor, have to remember that “simple” means something else nowadays…either way, unless I can get a doctor to look at – and comprehend – my wing issue, I’ll just have to live with it. The phone rings. Twice. Three times. I call out to North to let him know the phone’s ringing, but I guess he’s busy or something. Well, what can be the harm in answering it? I float the phone over with my magic, then hit the answer button. “Shores residence.” “Is the lady of the house home?” a voice asks. “Speaking,” I answer. Well, it’s true. Yes, I’m aware it means something else, but…well, while North and I don’t have that kind of relationship, I am kinda sorta the lady of the household, right? Besides, if I corrected him to “mare of the household”, the guy on the other line would probably not get that. Turns out it’s one of those telemarketer calls I hear about all the time on TV. Well, sorry, sir, we do our own work on our computers here, but we really do appreciate the offer to sell us antivirus service. Besides, I’m pretty sure that if the computers here somehow catch a virus, I can either take care of it through my magic, or North can figure out what to do next. He’s very smart and intelligent in that matter, the kind of intellect that I like in a sta— Damn, just what in Tartarus is up with my wings? Later that night, dinner’s a really simple affair, more because we want to spend as much time with each other as possible instead of slaving over the stove. And, hey, the vegetarian lasagna is quick and easy. He has to leave first thing in the morning for his parents, because he’ll be spending Christmas Eve and Day there, which means tonight is just for me and him. I blush at that; just knowing that the smile he has just for me makes me feel…special. Special in a way I haven’t really felt in a long while. But we get though that really quickly and then park right by the sofa. I insist on him opening his gift first; I know he already knows what it is, but I want him to be surprised by the second thing. Sure enough, it’s the mouse he’s been raving about, but he knew that. Then, just as he’s about to set the box aside, he hears the rattle. Looking at me briefly, he digs into the box again and finds the smaller box. Opening that…the smile on his face just made it all worth it. A week of learning Blender, taking enough reference pictures of myself, then sending the file off to a 3D printer service to have it printed…the small figurine in his hands makes it all worth it. “You made this for me?” he asks. I nod, and he looks very touched. Where did I put the camera? I really need to take a picture of this. “Well, your turn,” he tells me, hoof…I mean, handing me his gift; the box is shaking, oddly. Carefully I remove the ribbon and the wrapping, then open the… He didn’t. He did! I can’t help but squee. I’ve been wanting this since forever! “Is this…?” He nods. “I only wish I’d thought of this sooner.” “No,” I tell him. “It’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Thank you,” I say, meaning every word of it. I then look down and take my gift out of the box, holding it close to me as it – as he – licks my face. “Where did you find him? And where have you been hiding him?” He grins. “The Prentices owed me a favor, so when I found out about this little guy, I asked them to watch him until an hour ago.” I look into my new puppy’s beautiful eyes; one blue, one brown, so he’s got unusual eyes, just like me! He’s so adorable! “What’s his name?” “That’s up to you, Moon,” North tells me. “And in case you were wondering, he’s a border collie.” I look him over carefully. Mostly reddish-brown, with white. “What about Pinecone?” I ask him. The puppy yips in delight, then starts licking me in the face again. “Pinecone it is, then.” I set Pinecone down and give North a huge hug. “Thank you!” “Hey, this way you won’t be alone if I ever have to travel,” he tells me. “I hate to have you here by yourself all the time.” I smile softly as Pinecone starts looking at my tail and starts playing with it. I have so much now, more than a mare like me deserves, and I can’t even begin to make up for it all. Maybe, by just being me – a new me, not encumbered by the past – it’ll be a start. Just me and Pinecone and North, a happy famil— Aaagh, what is it with my wings? The Yuletide is the most special moment of the human calendar. And like our calendar, it shifts from the end of the year to the beginning of the next, signifying rebirth and rejuvenation. And today, January the second, is a very important day to me, the night I first came to Earth. While I’m making dinner and watching Piney yap and chase my tail like the sweet little thing he is, North looks at me strangely, like why is this day any more important than any other day on the calendar. Hearing him say that hurts, cuts me to the quick. And I want to tell him that he’s a dork for forgetting our special night tonight but then he smiles fondly and pulls out a bottle of champagne he’d saved from yesterday just for this occasion. And as he hugs me close, I can’t help but feel warm inside, knowing what it’s like to be wanted. Dinner that night goes well; the brüt pairs well with the quiche Lorraine and the grilled Brussels sprouts – though I knew them by a different name in Equestria, they tasted absolutely horrid when I first got here. Thankfully, though, one of those cooking shows on TV showed me a different way to prepare them besides boiling; grilling them instead brings out this nutty, delicious taste I never knew they had! But just as important, North likes it! Stars above, I can never get him to eat enough vegetables. I practically weep when I realize what he lived off of before I moved in. Still, as his roommate, friend and mare of the house, I should look out for him, right? After dinner that night, we watch some old 50s movies, because he’s absolutely a fan of Audrey Hepburn. We see both Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Roman Holiday and it’s during the latter that North points out that though she’s been gone for years and that though Breakfast at Tiffany’s is over a half-century old and Roman Holiday even older than that, even today she’s considered to be the most beautiful woman that ever lived. I shrug; I’m not human, so I have little basis for what constitutes human beauty, and furthermore, there were nothing like movies back in my day. Even still, I’d seen enough plays when I was younger, and I can tell a talented thespian when I see one – and she was clearly a mare of many talents. I’m not sure I watched all of both movies. Instead, I think ended up doing what I tend to do a lot: I lay my head down on his lap and he plays with my mane, a gentle sensation that runs through me until it lulls me to sleep. At one time, I probably would have died of embarrassment to think that me, the goddess of the night, was now sleeping in at that time, but humans don’t need me to watch their nightmares, and I have no interest in doing so. That job belongs to another mare in another place, and even if the job was available here, it’s not my cup of tea any longer. I can barely feel him as he carries me back to my bed and tucks me in. But I swear I’m awake enough to feel him kiss me on the forehead and tell me that I look prettier than Audrey Hepburn. I blush. “No, Piney,” I tell him gently. “You’re not supposed to chew on the socks, okay?” Pinecone pouts preciously until I give him a pat on the head to let him know everything’s all better, and then he brightens up before running upstairs to do whatever it is puppies do upstairs while unattended. North went off to get groceries and pet food for our little bundle of energy, leaving me to be a…Domestic Goddess! … Okay, that does sound stupid. Who in Tartarus ever came up with that joke? After making sure the last batch of laundry’s in the washer, I come upstairs to play with Piney for a bit before I go on my morning flight. I briefly turn on the TV to the Today show while I entertain my little pup. North’s told me that morning television is brain-rotting and probably only meant to turn viewers into consume zombies, but hey, they occasionally have a good recipe on and besides, I really like the hostess’ mane…er, hair. As I’m looking for Piney’s chew toy, I suddenly overhear the neighbor, Betty, just outside the front door window. North says she’s okay, but that he really doesn’t know her that well. But I have to wonder why she’s so close to the house. I listen in on the conversation in case I need to hide for some reason, and what I hear does not make me happy: “So, yah, anyway, guy’s somewhat of a freak, but from what I can tell he’s completely loaded. Hell, I’d try to get in his pants if I wasn’t so sure my husband would divorce my ass!” “So you sure he’s single and not gay or anything?” “No, he’s single. Apparently his wife got bumped off a few years ago and he’s here to just hide from the world. Guy probably needs his rocks off just to cope with society again, if you ask me. Creepy fuck, otherwise.” My blood starts boiling and my mind starts thinking of at least twenty or thirty different painful spells I can cast right then and there. The only reason I don’t is because I don’t want any of it coming back on North. However, I do plant a mental marker on both speakers. If I can, I think I’m going to be making a little visit tonight in someone’s dreams. North’s asleep right now, because there’s enough space and sound barriers between our house and the neighbor’s, so he wouldn’t be able to hear anything. But because of my better hearing – and well, because I’m me – I can hear Betty’s screaming and her husband Phil’s cries to get her to calm down, it’s only a nightmare. Mission accomplished, I think to myself, as I put my head down on the pillow. Now to deal with the other one. “You’re awfully chipper this morning,” he says to me at breakfast while I’m filling Piney’s bowl. I pat my pup on the head, rush over to the kitchen sink real quick and wash my hooves, then join him. “Slept great last night,” I tell him – well, I wasn’t lying. He doesn’t ask what I mean, and as I pick up my coffee, I’m not about to tell him. Although part of me hopes that he doesn’t want to know what I did, at the same time, I want to just crow that I put those two cows through night-terror school for what they said about him. I know he wouldn’t be too happy about it, but I won’t stand for anyone talking smack about him, not when I can do something about it! “So what’s the plan today?” I ask. “I’ll probably be gone overnight,” he tells me. Something about a staff meeting at the Technon offices, then meeting his parents for dinner and probably will be there late enough to stay the night. Thirty minutes later, he’s out the door and I sigh; I was hoping to make a new tortilla Española recipe I found on Nibbledish last night. But at least I know that when he says he’ll be back, he means it. He’s someone I can trust completely and utterly, somepony I can believe in. Unlike Celestia, that bitch. The anger, sadness and cornucopia of pain wells in me again, and I can’t help it. At least Piney’s there to cheer me up; I hug the little guy closer to me as the tears start again. Tia, why did you abandon me here in this Tartarus-forsaken place? I’m absolutely lucky to have found North and I cherish the time I have with him, but that’s the thing: it was nothing more than that, the fortuitous turn of fate’s wheel. From what I see in human media, they don’t have much of a trust framework when it comes to aliens or the supernatural, and I am clearly both. Did Luna mean so much to you that you had no love for me/us/her? What do I/us/she deserve? Don’t…. Don’t…. I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of running from my past. I’m tired of being reminded that I was once a goddess and I’m now just a freeloader. If it wasn’t for North, I don’t know where I’d be right now. In fact, I wish he was here right now, so that I could hold him and just melt into his arms…. Wait. My heart skips a beat as I start thinking about him once more. And as I realize he’s not here, the crushing emptiness is back, but now there’s the star of hope at the center of the dark well of sorrow, the knowledge that I know he’ll return to me. To me. And finally an epiphany sets in, one that I never thought I would have, one that both frightens me and fills me with a joy I’ve never known. I’m in love with North. Well, that explains the wings, I guess. Tonight’s the night, filly, I tell myself. If I don’t do this now, I might regret it forever. Dinner tonight’s an ornate affair. I’m in a skirt, blouse and my pearl necklace – well, he thinks they’re pearls; I wonder what he would do if I told them that they’re (now-inert) magical explosives that could theoretically carve the top off Mt. Baldy if I used a live one. I always had them in case my magic was compromised, and after having removed the magical charge from them, they look just like pearls. I think I’ll keep that one under my hat. Well, my metaphorical one, that is. After having dinner, he asks, “What’s with all this? You usually…oh, duh, let me guess: you need something, it’s going to be expensive, and this is your way of making it up to me?” I shake my head. “No, not that. It’s Valentine’s Day, silly.” I remember just before my/our/her banishment to the moon, there was a pegasus poetess named Hearts Aflutter who was trying to petition Celestia for a new holiday called Hearts & Hooves Day. I wonder if that ever came to pass, though if it did, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was just like Valentine’s Day here on Earth. “Really? Completely forgot about that, sorry.” He then looks at me strangely and says, “But that’s a holiday regarding your true love, you know.” “I know,” I tell him. “It’s you.” Then I kiss him. No nuzzling or nose boops or typical pony methods of affection, this one is mouth and tongue, probing. He’s surprised at first, and I wonder if I’ve now made the mistake of my life, but a second later he’s joining in. We’re not stopping. It’s like the floodgates have burst and I’m watching myself from outside of my body as a human male just pours all his emotions into me. I think it’s the same way with him, and something’s taken over both of us. The human taboo against bestiality is strong – incredibly so, since they are the only sapient species on this world. And I’m sure humans would be surprised to know that ponies have this taboo as well; we’re just luckier that we have a larger variety of potential mates outside our species to choose from. But in the end, just as a human wouldn’t be intimate with a dog or a horse, a pony wouldn’t be with a timberwolf or a hydra. It’s intelligence that forms affection and desire, that meeting of the mind as equals that does it – this is why animals mate, but sapients love. This is, at least, what I’m telling myself while I’m passing on my maidenhood. I love him, and I want to be his mare. He feels something for me, and he wants me to be his girl. And that first night? It’s special. And painful. Very, very painful. Humans aren’t built for…well, let’s just say that if bolt A is made to go only in slot B, it goes into product B on item X. If item Y has a slot B that’s similar, it’s…well, even though it’s similar, somepony’s going to have a lot of pleasure and pain. That somepony is me. I will probably be walking funny tomorrow. It will probably be worth it. I/us/she remember when Tia told me/us/her about this, what humans call “the birds and the bees”. I wonder where Tia found out about all that – for all her pranks and worldliness, the sun princess is as pure as the driven snow. I’m finding out that a lot of it is incorrect, and that I’m fighting instincts to take us five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet up – that’s probably the pegasus drive in me. In any case, we experiment all night, trying to find something that…um…suits us both. We finally settle for me being on top. That, and well, he likes me brushing him with my wings. Kinda kinky, I know, but…I want him to enjoy every moment. Finally, we are spent and collapse in two balls of sweat. There’s the scent of musk, honey and chocolate in the air. He smells it as well and wonders. So do I, then figure I’ll worry about it later. I kiss him gently against the ridge of his jaw, and for the first time, I fall asleep in his arms as his mare. Breakfast the next morning is awkward and painful. And no, I’m not talking about the fact that it hurts to sit down…though there is that. Breakfast is mostly silence and staring at Cheerios. And then, finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Does this change us?” I ask him. He’s looking at me, thinking about his words carefully. My breath catches in my throat and my stomach curdles – I’d probably vomit right now if it wasn’t for the fact that all I had was toast. “If anything,” he tells me, “I’ve felt the same way about you for some time, but I didn’t want to say anything.” He didn’t answer my question, though – and that frightens me. “North, have I lost you as a friend?” “Of course not, Moon. No matter what happens, we’ll always be that.” “But does this ch—” “Of course it does!” he says sharply, banging his fist on the table and startling me with an anger I didn’t think he had. “Moon, if you were a human, you’d be the perfect girl. But you’re not human. How do you think it sounds if I were to tell my parents that I’ve met the mare of my dreams?” My cheeks flush at that, but then I realize what he means and my heart stops. “Moon,” he continues, “couples go on dates, meet friends, and do all the physical stuff besides. And then they get married, have a life together and grow old together. But they don’t hide from the world…and we have no choice other than to do so. The moment I take you out there, do you know what’s going to happen?” “I don’t care about that!” I tell him. “Is that why you leave the house to go flying?” he asked. I gasp – how did he know? A second later, he confesses: “I got home early one day, just as you were landing. I don’t know how you haven’t been seen by anyone else, Moon, but it’s only a matter of time and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “I don’t care about that, either!” The words are out of my mouth before I can even think about it; great going, me. I probably sound like a petulant schoolfilly right now, but I can’t help how I feel. “I want us to be together, North! I want to be your special somepony!” I tell him. “Which is another thing,” he says, and his voice carries a tone that sounds like guilt. “Last night…I know it hurt. Hurts for human girls the first time too, I’m told, but they’re….” He scratches the back of his head like he does when he’s just stopped himself from saying something he’ll regret. Finally, he chooses to phrase it as, “I just…I don’t want you to hurt anymore, Moon.” “What about what I want?” I ask. “Moon, I….” Another headscratch. Oh stars, this is not looking good. “Could we talk about this later? I—” “No!” I shout and with a flash, I teleport into my bedroom – how I wish it were just the spare bedroom again. I lock the door, crawl under the sheets and start crying. As I lie in bed, North’s at the door, knocking, asking me to let him in, that he does love me, that I shouldn’t just shut him out like that. I don’t care. My heart’s broken right now – the man I love doesn’t want me…because of what I am. I have never been ashamed to be what I am, nightmare, alicorn or pony. It’s these broken memories that stay in my mind as I drift off to sleep. The next morning, I wake up. I have to apologize to him for my behavior, despite everything that happened. Regardless if we are paramours, he does deserve my respect and I was less than kind yesterday. Slipping on my favorite Van Halen t-shirt – why is it I’m always wearing this one whenever I’m down? – and a flannel top to go with it, I tie my mane into a docktail – where did the humans get the term “ponytail” for the same style? – slip on a pair of jeans and step out of the room. The minute I do, I’m regretting it. There’s breakfast from this morning, and knowing him, he probably left lunch and dinner from last night, as well. I don’t see Piney anywhere, but I do see a note on the serving tray, and when I do, it stops my heart. My tears stain the paper. I hurt him because I wanted him to love me. I hurt him because I wanted him. When he was inside, I may have been the one injured, but he was hurt. And it’s all my damn fault. “Dammit, Tia,” I say to the air, hoping that somehow it will reach the sister/not-sister/maybe-sister I’ll likely never see again, “Why did you do this to me? If I am to remain here on this Earth, why like this?” Being like this…being able to love, but not share it. This isn’t redemption or even punishment – it’s a damnation worse than when I/we/she was in the moon for a thousand years. That night, just to keep my mind off things, I make an ass out of myself. I play a few of my favorite videogames for a while and after some time I’m getting the usual “You’re a bitch, Nightmare Moon!” comments over the voice channel – I wonder how the other players would react if they found that Nightmare Moon isn’t a screen name and the “rendered” avatar is my actual photo? – and I forget my fears for a while. Eventually, I start playing with a friend, well, an on-line buddy – I’ve never met her, and most people don’t even know she’s a she. I only know her by her screen name, DeathScythe325, and while we’re busy beating the hell out of each other online, we also tend to skip the trash talk and chatter on about life. Scythe doesn’t know it, but I’ve learned a lot about human things from her. At one point while we’re mopping the hell out of tangos – sucks to be those other players! – she finally says to me, “Nightmare, you’re kinda quiet tonight. Something wrong?” “It’s been a rough night for me,” I tell her. “My co…er, roommate and I had a fight last night, and it was my fault.” I then go into a heavily-edited part of what happened – I’m not about to explain what I really am and besides, I’m not talking about my intimate encounters with North, thank you very much. “I see. So you slept with him, didn’t you?” I almost get myself killed just stopping to figure out how the heck she managed to figure that one out, and she laughs. “Careful! You almost got wallbanged!” Before I can ask, she replies, “I guessed, because you’ve always spoken about him in glowing terms, so I guess you two never fought before. And since there’s only a number of things that could have started a fight, that had to be the most logical reason. Well, let me ask you this: do you love him?” “Yes. And he told me he loves me, too. It’s just…well, there would need to be some changes involved,” I start. She laughs. “Then why not? Go for it, Nightmare! You only live once and no one’s young forever!” “Scythe, it’s not that easy,” I sigh. “Nightmare, it’s never easy,” she tells me over the line. “That’s why it’s love. If I gave up on my boyfriend, we wouldn’t have proposed last month. Trust me: it might be hard, but if he means that much to you, then it’s worth it.” I gasp. Is it really that easy? I ask myself. “You’ve given me something to think about, Scythe. Thanks.” “No problem; I know how that is. Besides, I gotta call it an early night tonight; got a thesis to write for college. Talk to you later, Nightmare. Best of luck!” And with that, she discons from the game, and after getting a few more headshots in just for good measure – I do have a reputation to maintain, after all – I discon as well. The next few days I spend wracking my brain for ways to unlock the power I need for this. I need to access the part of my magic that I’m missing. I need to access her magic. She who is me and yet not me. I sit down to remember all of my/our/her youth. Studying at the hooves of Master Starswirl, me and my sister, ponies of unknown parentage that stood up to ancient monsters and demons in our adult years and became…other. Something Starswirl’s predecessor, Clover the Clever, theorized, but never could prove: ascension. I barely remember the pegasus that I/we/she was born as, or the unicorn that that cunt/my sister/our sister/Tia/Celestia was born as. I cannot remember our parents at all. My first clear memories were of facing down Tirek or assisting Starswirl with dealing with the siren sisters. Then the next thing I remember is something that looked a lot like the hyperspace tunnel in Star Wars, and then…alicorn. Just like that. Part of me, the most elemental part of me, is reminding me that I am a goddess; why in Tartarus should I need to change for anypony? I ignore that part of my mind. It’s probably what got me/us/her/Luna in trouble to begin with. I ignore it: I might be a goddess, but even a goddess deserves to be happy, right? I then remember a lecture that our master gave to us one night, the first one that explains so much. Theories, and so much more, including something particularly useful. Time for me to get to work. My love life is on the line. Two days later, and here I am. North will be home in a couple of days, so I don’t have much time left to do this. Making minor changes, I add some tweaks here and there to the casting circle, hoping that the sand I used – a “fuckton” of it, as North is so fond of saying – from the beach. I double-check everything to make sure that all is well, then I triple-check. Completely sure that everything is in place, I light the candles – these had better be pure, Yankee Candle, or else I’m showing up in-person to demand a refund! – and apply the magic. The candles’ flames rise, as expected, then grow larger, start curving and form a sort of dome around the circle. Then the flames change color, from the warm yellows and oranges of tallow and wax – or whatever they make candles out of here on Earth – to deep blues, sea greens and acrid violets. And as they connect in unison, they start shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow. Rainbows? Oh, shi— I hear a scream. The pain starts ripping through me before I realize it’s my own. The pain is overwhelming, encompassing – it makes the pain from the other day feel like a papercut. Stars, it makes the time I was torn from myself/ourselves/herself/Luna feel preferable! My vision starts swimming, and all I see is rainbow over and over again. My throat feels bloody and raw, and my voice becomes hoarse from the constant yelps of pain, but I can’t stop. I. Just. Can’t. STOP! I see a pair of lilac eyes looking down at me both from everywhere and nowhere. I can’t tell if the eyes are damning, or pitying. But I want to scream at them, scream every obscenity and beg within every bit of my life. Tia, why are you doing this to me? Aren’t we sisters/not-sisters/bitter enemies/complete strangers? Do I/we/she/Luna mean nothing to you? Is it my/our/her fate to be continually punished for sins that were paid for a millennium ago? If it’s because you think I’ve/we’ve/she’s forgotten, I can tell you I haven’t! The pain somehow becomes worse, and I curl into a fetal ball. All plans of anything other than survival are abandoned. I remind myself I’m doing this for North. I then remind myself that at this rate, I might not live to see him again! Oh, stars, this hurts! North, if you can hear me, I need you! Help me! My vision washes out in a mixture of pain and suffering and as I fade to black, the last thing I see are those eyes that seem to be looking at me from everywhere and nowhere. The look in them is one of great pitying, as if I’m an insect about to be devoured by a spider and there’s nothing that can be done but to mourn its passing. And I was wrong about the eyes. They’re not lilac… …they’re golden. My eyes open and I’m treated to the smell of charred and burnt flesh and fur. I look around the house and see that the walls are carbon scored, and everything in the house is ruined. I freak out about Piney before I suddenly remember that he’s at North’s sister’s place. Speaking of which, North is going to kill me! But that’s the least of my worries. I look at my foreleg and it’s a cracked, blackened mess, so utterly destroyed it’s clear that I’m never going to… ...the charred ruins of flesh crack and split open. Pools of blood leak out, and I see something else. I smile weakly before passing out. The door opens and I hear North call out and tell me he’s home. Wait – he’s home? I swear I just crawled to the bed an hour ago – how long was I out? “MOON!” He screams my name, having seen my hoofwork in the living room. I can hear him running towards his bedroom, where I am. He’s frantic, I can tell – I can feel his heart; he’s worried. “MOON!” he screams as he arrives in the bedroom, followed by: “Moon?” I force myself up. “North? I’m sorry I couldn’t clean up everything immediately.” I’m cold. So cold. Everything is freezing. I can hear my teeth chatter and that hasn’t happened to me since the time Celestia and I/we/she/Luna faced Discord when he decided to turn the world into ice cream for no reason at all. “Wh-what did you do?” His voice is half-frantic, half-stunned. I don’t blame him. Things are…different now, and I left a lot of carbon-scoring and blood around the house. “I did it because I love you,” I tell him. “H…how?” he asked. “Magic,” I tell him with a smile. “Help me up, please – I think I’ve been asleep for the past two days, and I still feel weak.” Gingerly, he assists me up and I struggle to move over to the bathroom, where we have a full-length mirror. I look at myself for the first time with new eyes. Well, with old eyes – strangely enough, that’s the only part of me that hasn’t changed. Everything else? Well…how many purple-maned…er, “haired” white girls do you know running around? I’m petite, I guess, and I get the feeling if anyone asks me something, they’ll ask if I know I look like Audrey Hepburn. “Wow. I mean…you did this for me?” “No, I did this for us,” I said, leaning into him – basically because I’m going to have to learn how to stand on two feet now. Dinner that night tastes great! I know it’s meat, and I don’t care. It’s flavorful and savory and I don’t care if North says that it’s probably not healthy – now I can see why he has his eating habits. Mr. McDonald, you have my business! I’m sitting wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants, as my clothing doesn’t fit me anymore, since they were made for children, apparently and I’m much larger as a human than I used to be as an alicorn. He’s still looking at me and around the house and oh I’m in trouble, aren’t I? “Moon….” he tells me. “You didn’t have to do this.” “Yes I did,” I reply. “You didn’t want a marefriend – you wanted a girlfriend. I wanted to be whatever you wanted me to be.” I finish up my Big Mac – for some reason I feel as though I should know that name – and reach in the bag for another. When I told him I was starving, he went and bought a few. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he tells me. “I love you, Moon. I didn’t care if we weren’t going to have sex for the rest of our lives or not – I just didn’t want you to be hurt by the differences in….” He blushed – it’s so sweet! “Bodyframes?” I suggest, before taking a sip of Coke. “Uh, yeah, that’d be a good way to put it. But now, you’re….” A thought hits him. “Are you?” “Am I human?” I finish his question and shook my head, then pointed to my eyes, which haven’t changed. “No, I just look it. I’m still the same immortal alicorn inside, I guess. I might have some extra body functions that don’t come with the standard pony model, but for the most part, I can pass for it now.” “Not with those eyes,” he tells me. “I’m not sure even contacts are going to fix that.” “Don’t worry, I’ll fix that somehow, though I’m going to need to do a little more research to make sure I know what I’m doing.” I sigh. “North, if this bothers you, when my magic comes back after a couple of days, I’ll change back. I’m going to have to clean up my mess anyway.” “Well, we can go to the Arrowhead Lake Hotel for a few days until you get back to normal,” he tells me. “We’re going to have to do some shopping for you anyway – I have no idea how to shop for a girl, though; Rachel always did her own shopping.” “I guess we’ll have to figure it out, right?” I say, smiling, reaching out with my hand to take his. He takes mine and squeezes gently, a warm, sensational feeling that makes me feel tingly inside. “So, I guess we’re back to what you asked earlier,” he said. “What about us? Well, this changes everything even more now, Moon. With this, you can be your own woman and have your own life. You don’t have to stay here anymore if you don’t want to. But,” he says, bringing my hand to his lips as he kisses it gently, “I do hope you’ll consider staying with me.” I smile softly. This is my life now, for better or worse. I finally have somewhere I belong. Goodbye, Equestria. And maybe, good riddance. We spend the next two days at the hotel. When we’re not eating or shopping for clothing for me – thankfully the internet had info on how I could get my measurements! – we’re doing other things. And yes, when bolt A goes into slot B like it’s supposed to…it’s heaven.
seven. he. outside.View Onlinehe. she. we.seven. he. outside.“Everybody, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Moon.” It’s been a week since her change and things have…well, it’s been a mess. Due to Moon’s unintentional barbequing of the inside of the house, she’d exhausted herself completely fixing everything. Unfortunately, as a result, I had to miss a dinner I’d planned with Mom and Dad – she was reviewing a new restaurant in Malibu and she invited everyone – and when I explained why, the cat was out of the bag. It was going to happen anyway. But in the process, I got the parental grilling and as a result, now it’s Sunday and we’re having brunch with the family at the El Torito in Pasadena. Growing up, we always had Sunday Brunch at the one near my parents’ place in Santa Monica, and apparently either Mom or Dad – probably Mom – thought it’d be a great way to get to know her. As Moon and I sit down at the table across from my parents, Carrie, Don and Tae, we’re nervous, though for different reasons. I’m nervous because not only is this her first major exposure to other humans face-to-face, but it’s my family in particular. All it’s going to take is one pony-related remark and they’re going to start wondering about her…as if the purple hair and turquoise eyes aren’t going to be topics of conversation already. At least with the hair, we can say that she’s rocking the Goth look. But for Moon, it’s different: She wants to “prove” she’s human, because she wants us to be a normal couple. She did admit on the drive down that she’s not completely sure that the enchantment she placed on the glasses work completely, and if it fails, she goes from a girl with unusually-colored eyes to what looks like a succubus. Yeah, that’s going to go over real great with my parents. “Hello, dearie,” Mom says, starting the opening volley. And here starts the tennis match. “I have to admit, Moon’s an unusual name.” To my surprise, Moon’s response is perfect; she’s clearly been practicing for this. “It’s actually a nickname,” she tells my folks. “My full name is Selene Cynthia De Lune, or ‘lunar-based name, lunar-based name, lunar-based surname, so I might as well just roll with the motif.’” Dad jokes that Moon’s parents must have had a strange sense of humor, to which she replies that she has no idea who gave her the name, as she’s never met her parents. Huh? «It’s sorta true,» she tells me. «I don’t know about Luna, but I can barely remember my parents. It’s been thousands of years, after all, and my imprisonment and separation may have affected me that way.» She then looks right at my parents and says, “I’m originally from a small town just outside of Vancouver, Canada called Gibsons. I was found just outside the RCMP local station there, and it was a Mountie that gave me my name.” She then went on about her life growing up in Vancouver – where the hell did she get all that research? – and then about earning a full scholarship to UCLA, where she studied art and computer programming, which led in a roundabout way to her current career. At this point, I can see that Dad’s interested, and he bites: “So then, Moon, what do you do for a living?” She leans forward and says with a smile, “Cyberathelete.” When they look at her with confusion, she then explains: “Professional videogame player.” I’m trying to keep my face straight as I’m floored by that level of bullshit – I know Moon’s been logging some serious gaming time to the point that she wore out her Onza last week, but…could she have at least come up with a better story than that? My parents look at her oddly, expecting her to say she’s joking or explain something else, but instead she launches into this long story about EVO – I recognize parts of it as the article I wrote as an assignment for last year – and there’s enough of her story that while it seems like it matches, doesn’t quite par up with what I got going. Where did she get all this? At this point, Tae pops in. Both she and Carrie are suckers for true love, and probably moreso for Tae, who grew up on romance manwha. “So, how did you guys meet?” “About January last year, I was prepping for an upcoming tournament, and so on the recommendation of a teammate, I applied to rent a fully-furnished vacation place on Airbnb; the system set me up in a place in ‘the City of Big Bear’.” She says that last part, air quote included, and suddenly everyone in my family understands; after all, it’s a common enough mistake. A lot of people assume that the area I live in, Big Bear City, is “the city”; actually, it’s an unofficial town and technically just an unincorporated part of San Bernardino County. The actual city is Big Bear Lake. She then looks to me to continue. Fortunately, we practiced this part. Looking at my parents, I then tell them that I get home from my trip to Atlanta and find this strange girl there, lying on my couch, playing this tricked-out gaming system and eating my Doritos. After we talked everything over, she showed me that the key to the rental place is the same type as the one for my door. Since it was too late in the evening to send her out, I let her stay in the guest room that night, and she got up early and made me breakfast as thanks. We talked over breakfast and got to know each other better, and though she went to the rental cabin that day – and I changed the locks on the house – we agreed to go out on a date that night. Needless to say, I tell the fams, we hit it off. Strangely enough, it’s even more bizarre than the actual truth…though I’ll have to change the locks when we get home. Moon looks briefly at me and she nods, knowing what I was going to say. Do we have some sort of couples’ telepathy going on? Oh, that’s right – we do. A few minutes later, Moon excuses herself to the restroom, and immediately, Mom, Carrie and Tae do the same. Divide and conquer is a classic tactic my family uses when checking out the prospective other of one of my siblings. I should know; I was on the other side last time when me, Dad and Don grilled Carrie’s last boyfriend. Glad she realized what kind of creep he was. Dad scratches the back of his head as though he’s trying to avoid saying something – and Moon wonders where I got that habit from – before he finally says, “Well, son, she’s…ah, ‘interesting’.” “Interesting?” I ask. Another head scratch. “Well, for starters – and I know this is probably partially my fault since you grew up on the stuff – but I swear she looks like Audrey Hepburn. That and she…has an, um, ‘interesting’ job, I, uh, guess?” I have to do this, sorry. “Dad, if you think she’s interesting now, you should’ve seen her two weeks ago when she was still a winged unicorn.” Both of them stare at me at that comment, and I laugh – they think I’m cracking an absurd joke just to set them at ease. Yeah, I can be an asshole at times. “North,” Don begins, “we just want to make sure that she’s not screwing you – and I don’t mean in that sense. Let’s be honest: You have more money than most guys your age, and some girls do pay attention to that. I’m sure you’ve heard of seekingarrangement.com, right?” “Not really, but I’m wondering how you know about it,” I tell Don just to fuck with him. Yes, I’m familiar with Seeking Arrangement and Ashley Madison; I did a freelance article for Maxim on them and used myself as the guinea pig – I still get girls contacting me on the throwaway email account I set up. I see him squirm and then decide to let him off the hook. “Seriously, though, Moon’s dependable. She’s been there for me when I need her and strangely enough, bank account aside, her paycheck is more regular than mine is.” I know that much because at my article for EVO, I met a gamer by the handle of “Th3/\/\4ndar1n” who said he makes more off of endorsements than he does in tournaments. “She didn’t even know I had money until well into the relationship. Trust me, she’s not after my cash, and I think Mom and Dad raised me not to be that stupid.” “Well of course not, North,” Dad replies, “but we just want you to be happy, is all.” “I know,” I tell them, genuinely grateful. “I’m especially happy that this means Carrie doesn’t have to try to fix me up with another one of her college friends.” “Tell me about it,” Don groans. “I told Mom, Dad and Tae about that Destiny chick, and at that point Tae was going to just call her family in Korea to see what cousins she had that were attending college in the US. She then told Carrie not to fix you up again with circus freaks.” Dad nods in agreement. “As much as I think Moon is…unusual, don’t get me wrong, she’s sweet – you did better with her than the bimbo Carrie thought you’d like.” The drive back to Big Bear is interesting; while Mom and Dad wanted us to come over for dinner that night, we had to decline as I had some research on an article I needed to do. Besides, Moon and I needed to talk about her performance. “Okay, hon, spill,” I tell her as we’re approaching the LA city limits. “Where did you get all the information?” “Well, remember my friend Scythe?” she says. “Turns out that she’s a professional gamer herself and after all the gaming we’ve done, she wants me to join her team because they want a five-on-five at Digital Carousel.” “Wait…so you’re serious about this?” She nods. “Isn’t this the part where I point out you’re a goddess—” “Retired goddess,” she huffs, crossing her arms and pouting. She’s so adorable when she does that. “And no, I don’t cheat when I’m gaming; that wouldn’t be fair. It’s just pure, one hundred percent me and my hands.” “You, ah, didn’t have hands until a week ago.” “Okay, okay, so I used my magic to control the keyboard and mouse, or gamepad or whatever I was using at the time,” she admitted. “But other than that I didn’t cheat.” “You’re missing my point, hon,” I tell her. “You were doing it all by magic, and have you played anything since your change?” “No, but I know my skills.” I roll my eyes. “Oh, really,” I drawl. “Look,” she says, looking over the edges of her glasses at me with her real eyes. “Here’s the deal: you and I, tonight – you can pick the game. If you win, I’ll give up all my plans of being a videogame player and I’ll do all the chores in the house this week, even the ones you didn’t have me do because it meant going outside. But if I win, you’re driving me to the Electric Planet on Tuesday and you’ve got the chores.” “You’re on,” I tell her, knowing I’m going to win this. Yeah, I’ll acknowledge that I’ve seen her play some FPSes, and she’s good. But I’m a fighting game kinda guy and I’ve played more than a few in my time. No sweat. As I’m putting the dishes in the dishwasher, I berate myself for not realizing that “retired goddess” still means goddess. When I put in Street Fighter IV, she admitted she’d never played it before – then lost the first round while she methodically figured out the controls. That was the only round she lost from that point. We went for a simple best of three. Then five. Then seven. Then nine. Then she said that she’d consider it a loss if I managed to win the next round. Finally, when she’s looking at me while I’m staring in shock at the Character Select screen, she whispers wolfishly, “I’ll consider it a loss if you manage to hit me once.” I sigh and get up, heading to the kitchen to put away the dishes, while she giggles madly. My mom always said she didn’t raise any idiots, but I think tonight I just proved her wrong. As I’m putting away the last dish, when she taps me on the shoulder and gives me this girlish look. “Okay, now you have to do the next chore.” “And what’s tha—” I ask before she silences me with a very passionate kiss and starts leading me to the bedroom. Yeah, I think I can live with this chore. We park in front of The Electric Planet, a barcade on the corner of 3rd and Walnut in Huntington Beach. It’s a couple of blocks northeast of the pier, and I suggest that after she’s done, we can go take a walk there. She makes an odd sound that sounds like “squee” and with that, we go in. As we enter, I’m recalling stuff that I vaguely remember from my earliest years, the stuff my Dad was goofing off with while he was around my age: Depeche Mode posters, the whole 80s Tron look and whatnot. Only difference is, this place serves drinks. Who says there’s no such thing as progress? The waitress meets us at the door; she’s dressed as Chun-Li. “Welcome to the Electric Planet! What can I get for you two?” “Got any beers?” I ask. “The usual domestics, imports and craftbrews plus a special IPA that the guys down the block at HB Beers make for us called ‘Cruise Elroy IPA.’” “That sounds good.” “And you, miss?” “Just a Diet Coke,” she tells the waitress. “I’m here for the Vector Vixens tryouts.” “Oh, good. We just started,” she tells us. “Sign-ups are over there. I’ll bring you your drinks.” As Moon’s looking around, I comment, “You know, when I was just a kid, I always wanted to come to these kinds of places. But by the time I was old enough arcades pretty much shut down. Barcade scene only started up a couple of years ago, thankfully.” She smiles, replying with, “You must have been an adorable kid.” “More like a pain in the a—” “North? North Shores?” A voice catches my attention and I’m turn to look. There, wearing a midriff shirt that has Pac-Man on it with the caption BITE ME and strategically torn jeans is this hot little Asian number with red hair. I know for a fact that she’s only half-Asian; her mother’s originally from Ireland and her dad’s local-born Vietnamese. “Katie?” I ask, still disbelieving. God, the years have been kind to her. She hugs me. “God, it’s good to see you! What are you doing here?” “Well, my girlfriend here is trying out for some group here,” I tell her. Gesturing to Moon, I say, “Honey, this is Katie Nguyen. I used to babysit her when I was in high school. Katie, this is my girlfriend, Moon De L—” “Nightmare Moon?” Katie asks. “Hi, I’m DeathScythe325. Wait – if you two are, then….” She blushes furiously. “So you took my advice?” “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Moon says. “So, what’ve we got?” “Well, I’ve played with and against you enough times that as far as I’m concerned, you’re not only in, you’re my team vice-captain. We’re gonna need another eighteen girls on the squad, though; Digital Carousel rules require ten on team – five mains, five alts. In addition to that, we can have five independents cracking the solo charts, and five understudies in case something happens, for a total of twenty, which is manageable – we can always grow the team later. Got some promising stick movers coming in, including one that just quit the Joystick Jills. C’mon, I’ll show you the hardware.” We’re there for the rest of the day. I go back to the car to get my laptop and camera so I can write an article and take some pictures of this place; we don’t have a gaming editor on Technon and everyone’s filling in until we can find one. Meanwhile, both Katie and Moon put a bunch of girls through her paces. Most of them are about Katie’s age, with a few in their late teens, leaving Moon as the oldest on the team at the tender age of “25” - I think they’d freak if they found out she’s been around for thousands of years, give or take. Finally around five in the evening, they get a team cobbled up. This is where things get interesting: Her contract is a steady paycheck, backed by the Electric Planet, in return for 25% of her wins at tournaments. She can do endorsements and other commercial deals, provided they don’t conflict with anything Electric Planet or Vector Vixens do. And there’s a few other things, too. All of which…I really have to think about telling her. Still, as we’re strolling on the pier, she’s happy and animated. I’m having a hard time believing this is the same individual who showed up a little over a year ago in my home, frightened, morose and decidedly less human looking. That sinks a pit into my stomach; breaking my girl’s heart doesn’t really go over well for me. But either I do it now, or things get really ugly later on. We decide to have dinner at Ruby’s that night, eating at the pier. Over burgers, fries and shakes, I break it to her gently: that to sign the contract, she’s going to need a bank account for the money to go to. To get that, she’s going to need a social security number, which means she’ll need legal documents to live in the country; and since she said she was from Canada, she’s going need documents from there as well. As I’m explaining what I repeatedly say is just what I know off the top of my head – I’m no expert – the smile starts disappearing from her face. “Oh,” she says, as she starts to understand what’s going on. “Plus, according to this contract, you need to meet with the team regularly, which means either you’re going to be driving over two hours each way – which means I’ll be driving, since you don’t have a driver’s license – or we need to move.” She suddenly looks very down, as if she finally realizes what she’s done. “Hey, we’ll figure something out,” I assure her, even though I have not a fucking clue of what we can do about this. To fix this, I’d probably need some Hollywood-style superhacker, the NSA and the entire contact list of that guy at the CIA that I interviewed for an article two years ago. “No,” she says, somewhat sadly. “I can fix it – that’s not the problem. The problem was that I like living at our place. I don’t want to move, but I guess it makes sense that we have to.” She pauses for a second, before adding, “Why not somewhere around here?” I look at her as though she’s lost her mind. “Hon, I’m really sure you don’t have an idea of what I’m talking about, do you?” She gives me a soft, playful smile. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I am a goddess, after all.” “Retired goddess,” I point out. “Still a goddess,” she replies. Joy. Well, when they ultimately throw my butt in the slammer, I can at least ask them not to put me in the same cell as Rachel’s uncle. That’d really be hell for me. We get home around nine, and while I turn on the computers and consoles in the living room, she heads straight to our bedroom – still getting used to calling it ours vice separate ones for her and me. No sooner than Windows finishes booting up, then she comes out of the bedroom…. “Back in your old form?” I ask her, as I see the familiar inky-black shape. She flutters her wings gracefully, stretching them as though they were appendages that she hadn’t moved in a while – maybe they are, and I just don’t see them. She nods. “I’m probably going to need all my power for a few days to pull this off and staying shapeshifted 24/7 can be tiring, unless you’re a changeling, and I’m not one. So we’ll just go to bed tonight and I’ll get started first thing in the morning, after breakfast.” “That works for me,” I say, reaching out to rub her head, running my hands through that oil-like substance that she calls her “ethereal mane”. She purrs gently and says, “You’d better stop that, before you get me in the mood, hon.” “What, do this?” I tease, running a finger down her furry back. Granted, I love Moon no matter what she looks like, but there’s something about her original form that’s exotic and wild. Hey, at least it’s not bestiality, right? “I thought you didn’t like doing anything when I was in my native form,” she looked at me with mock-accusation. “Well…as long as we—” That was the first time I’ve ever been teleported in my life. I didn’t even react as I was tossed on the bed, with her on top of me. “You’re going to pay for that….” she teased. I am probably the only person in history who can confirm he’s been with a goddess, and the only one who can say he gets his rocks off from his sexy alicorn sweetie. If I ever make it to heaven, Rachel is soooooooo going to kill me. The following morning I wake up late and find myself alone in bed. Moon’s already up, getting to work. She’s glowing like a great indigo-hued star, and her wings are on both her and my laptops while her iPad floats in front of her. She’s got that jury-rigged Bluetooth headset on, and she’s got one of my old phones – a Samsung ATIV that I was given to review – glowing the same color magic. The screen of every electronic device within her magic field is changing so fast, I can’t even keep up with what’s there – it’s like a bad LSD trip. I probably don’t want to know what she’s doing. “Morning, sweetie,” she says softly as I bend down to kiss her. “Breakfast is on the table: made some breakfast burritos,” she says with an even voice while she’s focused on the tablet in front of her. Without looking at me, she says, “Oh, and I just got an email from Katie. We’re supposed to meet at Caballero’s tomorrow night for dinner and planning out the strategy for the Digital Carousel tournament. Is that okay with you?” “Caballero’s the one that lives in Diamond Bar, right?” “Brea, actually,” she replies. “Will you be done and…uh, ‘cleaned up’ by then?” I ask her, and she nods in response. Really not sure how to refer to her transformation, now that I think about it; so much of what we know is Harry Potter bullshit and probably very wrong to how actual magic works. “Any recommended banks I can get an account at?” she then asks. “Um, I bank with Wells Fargo, if that helps,” I tell her. “Perfect. I guess I’m going to need checking, savings and credit card accounts?” “Um…yeah,” I say dully. I have no idea what she’s doing, though I’m starting to get the feeling that my gal is a one-mare NSA, CIA and super-hacker crew. A second later she floats some paper to me. “What’s this?” “Could you put some money in my accounts, please?” she asks. “I’m going to need some for validity.” “You couldn’t just…?” She nickered – yeah, kinda weird hearing that from my girl. “That’s stealing,” she reminded me. “So, forgery and fraud is perfectly fine, but stealing is out of the question?” I said, teasing her. Before she gives me that look, I said, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go ahead and do that.” I head over to the desktop, head to the bank’s website and dump a few thousand in each account. “Okay you should be good.” The cellphone – which as far as I know is not attached to any line whatsoever – immediately starts dialing a phone number. Once it connects, she begins. “Yes, hello, my name is Selene De Lune, and I need to report some lost credit and debit cards…Yes, I’ll wait. Thanks.” She then sits for a few minutes before she’s connected to another person, and from there, gives relevant information, verifies her address and all the usual stuff. Finally, as it’s done, she says, “No, thank you – you’ve been a wonderful help. Thanks again for your time.” As the phone goes blank, she smiles. “Well, that’s taken care of for the moment. I’ll finish up the rest this afternoon.” Getting back to her feet – hooves? – she stretches briefly and says, “Well, let me take a shower and then we can get going.” “Going?” “Yeah, need to get to the DMV so I can get my driver’s license. And then maybe this afternoon, we can start looking at houses down in Huntington and Costa Mesa. That okay with you?” I look at her with what could best be described as utter bafflement – she just joined the human race on an honorary basis mere days ago and she’s already planning to cause road rage and piss off the local HOA? Have I mentioned how much I love my gal? The following evening, after a day of getting her a driver’s license – hell, I’m surprised she’d already had her info! – and finding a nice little place in Irvine that we inquired about, we finally arrive at Caballero’s. Turns out the girl in question was born in Afghanistan, left just as we started turning the place into a black glass parking lot back in 2001 and settled here in the LA area. Now, she’s bleached her hair to bottle-blonde perfection, acts like she was born here and dresses with as little clothing as possible. I wince as Moon slugs me as I watch Caballero bounce around, rhythmically and happily. Part of me wonders if she’s a belly dancer; the other part of me figures she’s just an exhibitionist. As Moon glares at me through her glasses I’m suddenly reminded that my girlfriend is an elemental creature not of this world and a literal nightmare. For the better sake of valor, I decide to take my eyes off the girl with the tight t-shirt emblazoned with “Yes, Hooters Loves Me” and turn my attention back towards my gal. The girls go over their plans for Digital Carousel. Team A – that’s Katie’s team – is going to be part of the 5-on-5 in Team Fortress 2. Meanwhile, Moon and Team B will be raising hell in the Ultra Street Fighter IV tournament, which somewhat surprises me since Moon tends to play FPSes and hadn’t picked up a fighter until this past Sunday. There’s also a few players roughly assigned to Team C, under Caballero, who will be soloing certain games. Team D, the newbies at hardcore gaming, will be assigned to study all the other teams’ plays and find weaknesses and repetitions, where possible. Interesting battle plan and very much in how I’d figure Moon to operate. While the girls are practicing and making plans, I’m talking things over with a few of the Vixens’ significant others. I’m one of the older ones, if not the oldest. Surprisingly, one of them, Todd, is a professional skateboarder – he tells me that his girl Sharon, or Troublemaker, as her alias is, got into gaming while being bored out of her skull at his tournaments. “And now the shoe’s on the other foot,” he tells me. “So, what about your girl? Moon, I dunno, she looks…well, she looks more like she’d be an actress or model or something, not a gamer girl.” I grin. “Well, Moon’s gotta keep herself busy…or maybe she’ll just go back to haunting everybody’s dreams.” When he looks at me oddly, I just smile knowingly. After all, I probably should build up my GF’s mystique, right? Finally, we’re back home, and I’m headed straight for my desk. I need to finish up the article, especially since it would make a nice contrast against the article Kotaku wrote about the Frag Dolls back in November. After all, I have the pictures, and their names are going to get out there after DC. I crack my knuckles and am just about to start typing when I feel warm breath on the back of my neck, followed by a sultry voice cooing, “I need a partner to play with.” I sigh; I really need to get this article done. “Hon,” I tell her, “the article’s due on Monday.” “It’s only Friday,” she whispers in my ear. I can smell chocolate and honey and that immediately tells me she’s in her native form. It’s going to be one of those nights, clearly. Sure enough, I feel feathers brush against the back of my neck and I shudder. She really knows how to hit my weak spots. Still, I need to get this done and even she knows that. “Sweetie, this article’s going to put you and the others on the map, so I have to make sure it’s just right.” I can already hear her purse her lips in annoyance. “I already did the ‘worshipped by millions’ thing before, you know. Right now all I want is an audience. Of. One.” She pokes her head in to kiss me, and I feel the soft sable of her fur against my cheek. And here I always thought that I was going to be the hirsute one in a relationship. She looks at me with her beautiful serpentine aqua eyes, and whatever feels she was going through disappeared, tempered by her understanding. “Don’t stay up too late,” she reminds me. “We’re having lunch tomorrow with your sister in Rosemead. Some place called the Bahooka, if I recall.” “Yeah, tiki restaurant. Parents used to take us all the time – it’s a SoCal institution.” I reach over and rub just behind her ears; she coos in appreciation for that— —and just like that, she’s teleported me to our bed. She’s looking down at me, hungrily. “You can wait until tomorrow for me, right?” I sigh and give in. The things I do to keep a happy household…. I wake up at seven in the morning, both hungry and exhausted at the same time. I feel like I could sleep for a dozen more hours still – after I get something to eat. Moon is still asleep, in her native form. I think she prefers to be in it while we’re at home and I can’t say I disagree; she’s not human and she shouldn’t pretend to be when she doesn’t have to. It does mean that I have to adjust to being in a relationship with a non-human, though. Wow, I’m in the first cross-species relationship – why the hell does that sound like something out of a weird-ass fanfic? But, this is real life, and I love Moon, and I know she loves me. And I’m going to support her as much as I can. I sit down at my desk and look at the picture of Rachel and I. It was the very first thing Moon fixed when we came home, and it looks as new as the day we took the picture and put it in this frame. And as I look at it, I know I’ve done the right thing. Rachel wouldn’t want me to grow old, lonely and bitter, and had the situation been reversed, I wouldn’t have wanted that for her. Maybe I’m not in the kind of relationship that she would have expected, but I can say that my love for her is never going to die, even as my love for Moon is different. “She loved you very much – I can tell.” Moon’s voice behind me is unexpected, but nothing bad, as I feel her kiss me on the cheek. I turn to look at her and she kisses me again. “I…I hope you know I won’t be jealous because you still care about her.” “I never thought that,” I told her. “My love for you is different than what I felt for her. Just as strong, just…different.” She leans forward and nuzzles me, then said, “I’ll make breakfast. Pancakes okay?” I nod and watch as my girlfriend wanders off to the kitchen, gracefully fluttering her wings…and leaving a mess of black feathers we’ll have to vacuum up later. If nothing else, my life has gotten really interesting….
eight. she. lotus eater.View Onlinehe. she. we.eight. she. lotus eater.I hear the crowds cheering, the blaring of the music and the sensory assault of dozens of lights and lasers. I smile as I watch the opposing team come on. “And now for the final match of the Digital Carousel 5-on-5 Fighting Extravaganza! In the red corner, Team Kill Your Co-Workers!” TKYC walks onto the floor, each of them introduced individually, each of them dressed in the “team uniform” of a suit and tie, all covered in paint spatters meant to look like blood. Because that’s going to make them all that much tougher. As if. For the past three days, this has been my temple. These have been my worshippers. I am a goddess ascendant. “And in the blue corner, The Vector Vixens! On System One, Broka-Cola!” Broka-Cola, aka Brooke Cole, is my lieutenant for Team B. She says she’s been playing Street Fighter since she could walk and I believe it – she moves Guile like nobody’s business. “On System Two, Frisbee!” Frisbee walks onto the stage…or rather, bounces onto the stage like she’s downed a dozen cans of Jolt. Her real name is Diane Pye, and for some reason, that’s another name that I feel I should know. “On System Three, Ms. Glitch!” As we watch Caitlin walk out, I’m talking to Janus – real name Pumpkin Spice; how she got a very pony-like name is beyond me, but she says it’s legit. In any case, she’s the former member from the Jills, and while she’s a great stick mover, she’s the most skittish member of our group, and probably the reason why the Jills let her go. And though she’s been winning, this hasn’t been easy on her. “You going to be okay?” I ask her. She nods. “Yeah, but crowds really make me nervous.” I take off my eyeglasses, then look right at her. “Freak them out like crazy instead.” She looks right into my eyes – my “unnatural for a human” eyes – and she’s mesmerized by them. “Your…your….” I grin. “Contacts,” I tell her. “All part of the act. Thinking about recommending them to the team.” “Sign me up!” she says with a smile as one of the backstage crew flags her and I hear the announcer’s voice boom, “On System Four, Janus!” Pumpkin walks out there and while I can sense she’s nervous, there’s something else about her that I really can’t quite define. But I have to prepare for my own entrance now, and as the stagehand motions to me to walk out, I am ready. “And finally, on System Five, Team Captain – Nightmare Moon!” I walk out in my own outfit, something I put together myself: based on Kyo Kusanagi from King of Fighters, the only thing that is missing is the headband, the gloves, and instead of the sun symbol on the back, it has a cartoonish picture of my normal form, or what people think is my avatar. My body’s glistening – a little magic application never hurt anyone – and as I walk down the path towards the ring, I’m shaking hands, giving high-fives and hoofbumping…I mean fistbumping…everyone I can. All the while, I scan the crowds, looking for the one that makes me complete, the love of my life. And there he is! Oh, and looks like Carrie’s come too! I still don’t know his sister well enough, but I should give her a chance, right? I finally make my way to the stage, where my team is milling and talking to the TKYC players. In particular, a tall gentleman with a scowl on his face walks up to me; his uniform tag reads HELLO MY NAME IS MURDERHOBO. He looks me over and says with a sneer, “Ain’t ever broken a girl before. Hope you don’t cry much.” His tone indicates this isn’t just smack talk; this guy’s a genuine asshole. I look at him, eye to eye, and say right back, “And I doubt you’ll find out, because I’m out of your league.” He looks at me again and said, “Those contacts supposed to scare me, bitch?” “No, but you’d better hope that I don’t scare you – you’re not ready for that.” As the audience starts to feel the tension between me and this idiot, I send a message out to North. «I’m going to break him, hon.» I can practically feel the hesitation in his comment. «I thought you were going to make this fair.» I then give him a recap of my discussion with Murderhobo, and once I’m done, North tells me, «Either you break him, or I will slug his fat ass when I see him.» «Tsk, tsk,» I tell my love, even as my heart swells at his response. «No violence, dear – that’s my job. In any case, I should be done soon.» The ref looks at both me and Murderhobo and says, “Okay, it’s just a game. Break it up and to your systems.” Murderhobo sneers again and looks at me. “Any last words before I break you into pieces?” Oh, yes, I do. “What the Elements did to me?” I say to him. “I’m going to do much worse to you.” With that, I walk away from him, confused look and all, and sit down at my system, a brand-new JAMMA regulation Sega Lindbergh Universal Mk. II candy cabinet. Hey, a filly needs to know her gear, right? The Lindbergh II has a webcam, so you can taunt the guy sitting across from you. I can see his face, and, not too surprisingly, the juvenile twit just flipped me off. Well, child, you have no idea what you’re messing with. I am a goddess. This is my temple. And angry deities smite like no tomorrow. I stand up from my system ten minutes later, and only that because the game format is a Best of Three, with each match being five rounds each. Ultra Street Fighter IV is a fun game to play and if you know the characters, you can work wonders. He brought out Balrog, a fighter I noted he was very comfortable with. I brought out Poison, one I’ve never played before, but had some time to watch Brooke use earlier. Final score? Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect…. You get the idea. Murderhobo stomps over and thrusts a finger at me. “You cheated, you fucking cunt!” I raise a delicate eyebrow. “Oh really? How do you figure that?” I ask. “I don’t know, but I swear I’m going to find out and I’m g—” At this point the referee tells him to sit down. “Our IT judges were watching and at no time did she do anything that wasn’t by regs,” the ref tells him. “You lost, fair and square. Now be a good sport about it.” The ref then turns to me and says, “Congratulations – that was some serious skill there.” “Thanks,” I tell him, though I feel a bit guilty for cheating with my magic; after all, I was moving my hands slightly faster than human APM tolerances and slowing Balrog’s reaction times by hairs of a second. Then again, this jerk deserves it. Then again again, that’s the sort of behavior that that got me/us/her/Luna in trouble in the first place. I silently make a vow to never do this again, even if the person deserv— My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a punch to my face. I crumple to the floor, and standing above me is an enraged Murderhobo, being held back by the ref and two members of his own team. “FUCKING SKANK! I KNOW YOU CHEATED! I KNOW IT!” One of the other members of TKYC looks at him and says, “Okay, Wally. You’re fucking done.” He then turns to the ref and says, “On behalf of TKYC, we forfeit.” “The hell?” Murderhobo screams. “What the fuck are you doing?” Murderhobo’s living up to his name apparently, as he stares daggers at the other guy – Cutie Bird. “Cutie Bird”? Odd name for a gamer, but I’m not going to complain. “You crossed a line, Wally, and we don’t play that shit. You’re done. I’ll call management and you can expect to see your pink slip by the time we fly back to Portland.” Cutie Bird then moves over to me and offers a hand. “You okay?” “Yeah, an—” I don’t say anything further as I suddenly feel embraced by strong arms and catch a familiar scent behind me as I’m gently pulled to my feet. And then suddenly I realize: Oh stars, North saw all that. I turn and the look on his eyes is frantic. “Honey, you okay?” He’s briefly panicked enough that he doesn’t even send anything over our telepathic channel. I fake wooziness and touch my cheek. Though it’s healing already – yay for alicorn physiology – humans don’t recover as fast and I’ll need to keep up an illusion for a few days. “It’s probably going to bruise, but…I’m fine.” Meanwhile, security’s been called and they’re dragging off that asshole. Given that I’ve turned in North’s embrace and am holding him back, I know he would’ve done something and that might have made it worse. Just…I’ll let it go this time. Turns out that now that Digital Carousel is over, we did well; if TKYC hadn’t forfeited, we would’ve won anyway, three to two, with Frisbee dominating her opponent and Janus halfway there. As for the other teams, Scythe and her group did outstanding, their five-player TF2 team holding off everyone for a nearly-perfect score; and three of Team C made the top ten in the singles tournament, with Caballero taking second place – she apparently celebrated by tearing off her top like a soccer player and dancing around the arena. She probably should’ve worn a bra…but knowing Cab, that was intentional. So, the team is in our suite and I’ve got Carrie fussing over me like a mother bird – don’t know how to react to that – and North is on the phone with the Chicago PD. He hangs up and said, “Hon, looks like we’re going to have to stay here another couple of days. Police want us to head down to the station tomorrow to make a statement.” “Man, that sucks!” Smackdown says. A member of Team D, we gave her the nickname because she curses enough to be the Element of Profanity. “You’re going to miss the train ride back!” Granted, travelling by train was interesting and we mainly did that because it allowed us to practice on game systems, something we couldn’t do while airborne. Of course, it probably means North and I will have to fly back when we return to LA tomorrow – that I’d look forward to, since human methods of flight sound fascinating. I mean, I’ve passed by more than a few aircraft while on my personal airtime, but being inside one sounds fun. “Well, wish I could stay, guys,” Carrie told us, “but I’ve got classes on Tuesday, so I have to get back.” Several other Vixens murmured assent; the ones out of college didn’t have jobs to return to, but they did have lives of their own. “Hey, anyway, we have reservations at The Girl & The Goat in an hour. Shall we get going?” Katie asks. “I think I’ll pass,” I reply in what I hope sounds like a fatigued tone, “because I really still feel dazed.” I then look at North and say, “You can go if you want, hon.” “Not on your life,” he tells me, and I smile. Have I said how absolutely much I love him? “Okay, if you need anything, Moon, just give me a call, okay?” Katie insists. “Sure thing, Katie,” I wave weakly. She walks out, followed by Carrie and the others, leaving Pumpkin behind. “Something wrong?” I ask her. “I…I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” she says to me. “I’ll make sure she is,” North tells her. “Okay, you’d better,” Pumpkin tells him, then flashes me a smile before leaving. Once she’s gone, I change back to normal. “You okay?” North asks, checking my cheek for a bruise. “Hon, it was gone five seconds after I was hit,” I tell him, “and I fell more from the surprise than the injury. Earth pony endurance, remember?” “I guess,” he tells me, satisfied that I’m not injured. “Besides, you know you’d better heal up, or else Pumpkin’ll be angry with me.” “Oh?” He chuckles. “It’s clear she has a crush on you.” “Noticed that, did you?” I say coolly, but right now I just want to facehoof. How could I have missed that? We’ve been training for DC since late January, about three months ago. Pumpkin’s always come up to me for help, and she’s always confided in me because she sees me as a friend and mentor; in fact, she’d been the one to admit to me that she was in truth fired by the Jills because she’d had a relationship with one of the guys on the Jills’ counterpart team Strike Force Alpha and turned out he was the husband of the head Jill. She didn’t know and explanations weren’t enough. She did, admit, however, that she was very brokenhearted about it. But I suppose that’s the norm for a twenty-year-old girl, and in any case, she started dating Dazzle’s older brother two months ago. “So, room service, then,” he says, reaching for the menu on the coffee table. “Anything you’re interested in?” “Honestly?” I tell him, nuzzling him gently, “I’ll just let you decide. Just let me know if it’s meat or not so I’ll change.” “Change?” “Yeah. Easier to digest meats as a human instead of a pony,” I tell him. “In the meanwhile, I’m just going to take a nap, okay?” “Sure thing,” he says, kissing me on the forehead…and studiously avoiding the horn. We found out a month ago that one of my “zones” is at the base of the horn, and…. Well, let’s just say once we were done, we had to order a new couch. Fluttering over to the bed, I pull back the sheets and slip in, wishing we were at home in our bed. Of course, we still have to completely unpack since we moved into the new house in Irvine; fortunately, we opted to keep the old home as a vacation pad. Plus, the new home has enough room, a garage for both his car and mine, and a swimming pool in the back, though I suspect he’ll be using it more than me, because frankly, I’ve never been much of a swimmer. And as I think about all that, it hits me once again, that North has completely upended his life for me: I’ve caused him to leave the sanctuary he needed when he lost Rachel and he’s done so much for me since I came into his life. Granted, now that I have my own job, I can contribute to the bills and just be a normal woman in this world, but I wouldn’t have any of that if it wasn’t for him. But then I feel the brush of his fingers against my muzzle and I sigh for feeling so stupid. No matter how much his life – and mine – have changed, there’s just been one thing clear since we became a couple. He’s not doing this for me. He’s doing this for us. The following morning I change back to my human form, shower, toss on some clothing, and tease North repeatedly before he takes his own shower – a cold one – and once he’s done and changing, we head downstairs to have breakfast before we’re supposed to meet at the police station. Breakfast is kinda lonely; I miss the comfort of having my friends around. But then again, given that this time a year ago I had no friends and only a “jailer” – and that only in my mind – it’s a vast improvement. And to think that I went from wanting to conquer the world to just wanting my friends and dearest love around? Well…it’s a learning experience, I guess. For some strange reason, it makes me wonder if Celestia’s daughter made friends with her shieldmaidens, or if they’re just her regular guards. From what I remember, they acted oddly at points, almost as though they’d just met. I giggle slightly as I realize that it’s just ludicrous – what are the odds that a crack team of mares that were able to wield the strongest weapons Equestria’s ever known had met just prior? The amount of time it takes to build a team that strong and loyal…that’s a long time in coming and from what little I remember of the Elements, you’d have to naturally be in tune with them, and that alone takes a lifetime of training. After breakfast is done, we cab over to the police department and meet the officer in charge of our case. I take care to make sure the bruise looks as realistic as can be, then we go in. We’re escorted by the duty officer over to a Det. Kyrie Shapiro, who’s handling my case. For some reason, she reminds me of a human version of Celestia, with strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed to shade towards violet when the light hits them the right way. Then I realize how impossible that is, and that I’m unfairly taking my frustrations out on this woman. In any case, we quickly go over the whole case and I fill out my statement, going over every little detail that led to the situation. Fifteen minutes later, I had my statement over to Shapiro, who takes and looks over it. “Thank you for your time, Ms. De Lune,” she tells me, “but to be honest and quite frank, unfortunately we’ve wasted your time merely for procedure. The uncomfortable truth is…he’s probably not going to be standing trial anytime soon.” North looks at her. “I’m sorry, Detective?” Shapiro sighs. “He became catatonic an hour ago. We have medical staff on site right now and we’re getting ready to transfer him to a local treatment facility.” “Doesn’t she have to visually identify him, though?” North asks. Frankly, other than watching a couple of episodes of Law & Order, I’ve got no idea of how the modern police force works. Back in my/our/her/Luna’s time in Equestria, the Guard served both as soldiers and as police, but they didn’t have the kind of situations that would come about like this. I wonder if modern Equestria has police? Barely listening to the conversation between North and the detective, I tune back in. “Well, quite frankly, Mr. Shores, given that your girlfriend was attacked at a very public event and that most of the other people involved have already given their disposition, we’re quite certain that the individual we have in custody is our man. However, given that Ms. De Lune here was a victim of assault, we’ve brought a number of pictures with us in order for her to identify the assailant. Normally we’d just do this behind a one-way mirror, but given the individual’s condition, we were forced to do it this way.” Shapiro passes a folder to me; I think I saw something like this on an episode of Hawaii Five-0. “Please look at the pictures and, if you would, identify the individual that attacked you.” I look over the pictures of various men that all look alike; strangely enough, they’re all in black and white, which, again, based on what vastly-incorrect info I know from television, should be in color. I know for a fact that most of them are not him, because there are certain details that I can see that the average person can’t…such as the fact that Murderhobo had a single strand of hair growing out of his cheek just below his eye and to the right of his nose: a genetic mutation, obviously, but something that the average person would miss, something that I wouldn’t. Finally, I come upon his picture…and I can’t help but gasp. Both Shapiro and North assume it’s just because I’m surprised by recognizing him. But it’s not just that. “This is him,” I tell the detective, pointing at the picture. “Okay, we’ll mark it, then, Ms. De Lune,” she tells me. “Thank you for your time.” “I am curious though,” I tell her casually, hoping that I’ll have to get the answer I’m looking for, “Shouldn’t these photos be in color?” A pause. Two beats. Three. Then finally, in a hushed voice, she admits, “I’m not supposed to say this, but…we took the pictures in black and white because the suspect because the suspect…well, I realize this is going to sound odd…but he’s turned gray. Only things on him that are color are his clothes. His skin, his hair, his eyes, even the blood we drew – everything – just turned gray. We’re considering bringing the CDC in on this one, because frankly, the paramedics haven’t seen anything like this.” “I…see.” I try to sound as disbelieving as I can. Then after giving her both our home and cell numbers, North and I depart the station. “Well, since we missed the train, I’ll have to see what the next available flight back to LA is,” he tells me, “plus, we have a day to sightsee, if you want.” I shake my head and said, “Can’t do that, love. I need to stay here and wait until he’s alone, so I can check on Mr. Personality.” “What’s going on?” North asks, and I can feel his worry. “Hon, I know you. The detective may not be aware of what’s going on, but I have a feeling that you do know, and that I’m not imagining that I heard her say he turned gray.” “I’ll tell you later, I promise,” I tell him, punctuating it with a kiss. “We’ll talk about it over dinner, okay?” Five minutes later, I slink in, following the shadows. One of the interesting things about shadow manipulation magic – umbromancy, to use the technical term – is that not only can I extend shadows and utilize them as if they were solid objects, but I can travel within them and along them. None of that “travel like smoke” Dracula stuff – though subfitomancy is a separate discipline – but it’s subtle and far more useful than what I would have done. And I’m ashamed to admit that once I would have had no qualms doing so. But since I’ve been studying her magic based on the fractured memories I have…I would never admit it to anyone save North, but it proves all the more that I was the fool. Or that she was the fool when I came into existence. Or that…. Look, I could spend eons trying to explain it and it would never be enough. The long and the short of it is that I/we/she/Luna had so much promise with the abilities that I/we/she had, and even the ones that were native to me when we split…they are worlds better than what was used in the past. She may feel shame about all of it…but I am that shame. It takes me an extended period of time to make my way down to the cells, mainly because of the increase of light and lack of objects to cast shadows, but I finally reach his cell. I patiently sit upside-down in a small shadow left by the overhead light and wait until the last of the paramedics depart; they’re talking about moving him out to a place called Lakeshore, wherever that is. In any case, I don’t have time to wait. I slide down the thin ribbon of darkness at the edge and then coalesce into my native form, just in case I have to fight my way out of here. Not only do I have more power that way, I have the advantage of no one ever believing that a “black winged unicorn” showed up to prey on the wicked…or something like that. As I close up on my assailant, I note that his color is slowly coming back. Using my magic, I carefully pry open one of his eyes, noting the lifeless, insensate look in them. Other than that, his breathing is normal and he seems hale. Which worries me, because seeing him up close, I know what’s wrong with him now: lotothosis, a coma-like condition caused by extreme exposure to a thymophage. And my blood runs cold as my realization sinks in: I’m not alone on this Earth. There’s a changeling here, too. “We have to leave – no, scratch that, you have to leave!” I tell North over dinner that night. It’s a shame, really; we picked the finest steakhouse in town, and now all that food’s going to waste because I’m absolutely worried about the man I love. “No,” he tells me, a defiant look on his face. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Moon.” He reaches over and takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. “And you telling me to abandon you here in the third largest city in the country is not helping things.” “Because it’s not a city anymore,” I tell him. “It’s going to be a warzone.” With that, I explain to him what changelings are, and they are, if anything, the closest thing to being an absolute enemy to every species on my homeworld. I explain to him some of the actions of the changeling queens of old: of Queen Metasoma, who almost brought the world under her hoof, had it not been for the efforts of Master Starswirl; of Queen Coxa and the war she started between the minotaurs and the griffins by pretending to be the latter and assassinating the queen of the former; of the war my people had with them shortly before my birth, which according to historical records, consumed a third of our whole race. And now they were here…on a world of seven billion people, a world with no magic defenses or ways of knowing they were being hunted by monsters worse than any human imagination could create. As I finish my tale, the look on his face is worried…but I know it’s not himself that he’s worried about. “Moon, don’t do this. You could be in serious danger.” I shake my head. “If anything, that’s my advantage,” I insist. I know it’s here, but it doesn’t know I’m here. “That you know of,” he tells me, and I have to admit, he’s right. We spend the next few days in Chicago, and during that time I run myself ragged. During the day, we’re “sightseeing” but in truth walking around the Windy City and using my skills to find the thing. After dinner, I then depart and fly around the other parts of the city in search of it. By the last day of our time here, three things have come to mind: one, that I’m probably going to listen to North when he insists that I sleep the whole plane ride. Two, that after a week of doing all this, I’m pretty sure that I’ve exposed myself enough that it knows I’m coming for it. And three, I really, really, really hate Chicago. Nothing against folks who live here, but I think I like the City of Angels better. Well, at least I like the guy that came with the real estate…. In any case, as for my first flight, I really don’t remember it well…mainly because I was completely asleep. That’s okay; it’s not as though I haven’t been airborne on my own. Then again I remember hearing something about a “mile-high club”, and pegasi tend to get kinky in that sort of way…. I’ll have to look up the effects of higher altitudes on the human body. Just…purely for research, of course. We step onto the concourse at Long Beach Airport. Given our unusual schedule, this was the closest that we could find to returning home. At this point, North would probably just suggest us flagging down a taxi and taking a drive home, but then I remembered a friend who lives in Long Beach, and wouldn’t probably mind at all. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, here comes Pumpkin. “Sorry it took so long!” she calls out to us, looking harried. “Had to borrow my boyfriend’s SUV, since I doubt I’m going to get all your luggage in mine!” I’d completely forgotten about that; Pumpkin drives this tiny as hell Dodge Dart, while her boyfriend David is the outdoorsy type and has a Ford Behemoth or whatever the car is called; it’s one of those monster SUVs that you actually use as one instead of a grocery tank. Wow, I’m starting to pick up North’s snarkiness, aren’t I? As we’re heading home, we give Pumpkin a very edited version of our trip to Chicago, with all the tourist stuff that goes along with it. Obviously I’m not going to explain to her the real reason we stayed for a week, mainly because she wouldn’t believe it and it’s bad enough having North at risk so I don’t need to expose another. I’ll just have to pay very close attention to the news for a few weeks, especially to Chicagoland-area news sources. “Oh! Guess what?” Pumpkin says excitedly. “My sister Vanilla is coming to visit!” “Vanilla? As in Vanilla Spice?” North comments from the back seat. “Did your parents want stripperiffic names for their kids or what?” I’m going to punch him when I get home…then maybe kiss and make up. After an hour or two. Or three. Tops. Fortunately, Pumpkin takes it in stride. “Hey, what can I say? She and I are twins, so…maybe my parents just had a weird sense of humor that day.” She then looks at me and asks, “Do you…mind if I bring her to visit? I think you two would get along great!” “I…sure,” I acquiesce. It’s going to put a damper in my search for that damn changeling, but at least it’ll make Pumpkin happy. Finally, after getting home, having dinner with Pumpkin – yeah, North’s right, I think she does have the hots for me, though I worry she’ll neglect her boyfriend needlessly – before I can shower and change back to normal. It’s raining, and I think I’ll cancel my evening flight for a change; I just took a shower and really don’t want to get soaked again. As I use my magic to move the hairdryer around my form, I hear North’s gentle tapping on the door before he peeks in. “Busy night tonight?” “I hope not,” I tell him. “I just want to enjoy the weekend before I have a meeting with Mythware on Monday.” They want me to be the spokeswoman for their new “Nightmare” line of gaming peripherals. I shuddered at the name initially, but it does predate me and I am using my old name as a screen name now, so I guess it doesn’t do any harm. Besides, the contract’s a nice chunk of change. I really should consider getting me and North a getaway vacation – a real one. Maybe Hawaii? I mean, I’ll have to go there for the Pacific War tournament in October, so maybe if we go early we can actually see the sights? “Moon?” I roll my eyes; I did it again. “Yes?” I ask him, looking up at him. “Um…did you…grow?” “Grow?” I ask. Funny, he doesn’t seem as tall as he did earlier. Too young for osteoporosis? In turn, he points me at a mirror, and I look. And what I see surprises me. I’m taller. I mean, I’m no longer the size I was just even days ago. I’m now…I’m now the size she was when she created me. The realization surprises me. Was it because I’ve been using more of her magic than my own? Is it because I’ve changed who I was and turned my back on my destiny? Am I fated to change further? Will I become Luna? I look at my love with worry. I don’t want to lose who I am. Luna…she was a spoiled foal whose jealousy set both our fates on this course. By changing who I am, have I done the same? Is it a correction…or a purification? “Corruption?” I speak, and I’m surprised the word comes from my mouth. “Are you okay?” he asks me. “I don’t know,” I tell him. I would hide this from him if I could, but…no. Secrets are a foal’s way. North is my love, my mate, my all. I promised no secrets from him, and that is what I will do, even if it costs me. He wraps his arms around my neck, kissing my gently. “I like the look,” he tells me. “You don’t look…well, like some sort of equine abstract, if that makes sense. You look more…well, more real.” I nuzzle his face. “I love you,” I tell him, meaning every word of it. He reaches over and takes my wing, gently. “Let’s just…let’s go to bed. Something’s bothering you, and while you don’t have to talk about it, I want you to know I’m here for you, Moon.” I let him lead me to our bed. And for the first time since we became lovers, we do nothing else but fall asleep in each other’s arms – or forelegs for me, right now – to the patter of the gently falling rain. And yet, I can’t sleep easy. Something dangerous is out there, and my friends and the man I love are in terrible danger. Well, changelings can be dangerous, but then again… …so can I.
nine. he. sister.View Onlinehe. she. we.nine. he. sister.Well, the week went by, and the only thing that came of all that was that Moon wore herself out. By the end of the week, after a short…uh…“disagreement” we had about her suddenly flying out to Chicago – and by that I mean she flew in her alicorn form – all for something that turned out to be a miniature black hole passing through that part of the Earth. Aside from the fact that I didn’t know black holes could do that, she had me absolutely freaked when I got home to find her passed out on the floor, wings ragged and her body coated in sweat. The argument wasn’t pretty. It was the first time that we’d fought as a couple, notwithstanding the issues that led us to be one. On the bright side, she didn’t act like she did the last time. Unfortunately, that meant I was arguing with a goddess, an individual who had a much better command of well, everything, in comparison to me. Thankfully, even as she continually argued her point, I argued our point – she was risking herself needlessly, I told her. She was doing more damage to herself than to the changeling – and it probably knew that. And yes, I played that card; that I lost one woman that I loved – how could I face losing a second one? And that’s why I’m alone here on our bed and she’s sleeping in the guest room tonight. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have pulled that card, but it’s how I felt. I grieve over Rachel every fucking day of my life and I don’t think I could survive burying Moon. Maybe I’m being petty, but if it means keeping her safe, then fucking call me a crybaby and I’ll live with that. But I can’t live to bury the woman I love because she’s been blown up by magic or grayed out by some magical vampire or some shit like that. I wake up in the morning to the glaring sun poking through the window…and an alicorn lying there, holding a breakfast tray in her mouth and looking at me with sorrowful eyes. Using her magic to unfold the tray’s legs, she set it down and then looked at me as though she had a broken heart. “I…I didn’t think of it that way,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ve changed so much, and yet…I’m still rushing headlong into battle like a princess leading troops into war. I’d forgotten I’m not a princess anymore.” She moved slightly and lay her head on my hand, the black shape lying in my right hand. “I wanted to protect my people – humanity. I don’t belong with ponies anymore, and this is my world now. All I wanted to do was to protect everyone.” And then she looked up at me. “To protect you.” She then leaned forward and kissed me. “I love you, North. I am yours and yours always. And I’ve been an idiot about things – I never wanted to fight with you about anything. Forgive me?” I grin slightly. “Of course, hon. And besides, couples fight all the time – it’s the good ones that learn from them.” I then pick up the fork and look at breakfast. She cheated, of course; it’s the best looking eggs benedict I’ve ever seen, and I don’t need to taste them to know that they’ll be, well, heavenly. “Real or magicked?” I ask her. In fairness, she pouts as if I’d said a minor insult. “It’s real; I learned to make them just for you. Besides, I really can’t magic up what I’ve never had before; it would taste artificial otherwise.” She then gave me a smile and said, “Eat up, you’re going to need your strength.” “Why’s that?” The smile turned into a grin. “Because the last issue of Cosmo said that make-up sex is the best part of making up.” I try not to choke on my bite. “When did you start reading Cosmo?” “Read one of Venus’ copies while she was on the game system while enroute to Chicago.” I guess I should’ve figured that; Venus, or H3XKiTTEN if you use her screen name, is one of four girls in an “Ishtarine coterie”, which is, according to the website I looked it up on, “a loving quartet groupwed and dedicated to one another in the ways of Ishtar”, which I guess is a formal way of saying “four lesbians fucking each other because they believe in some normally forgotten Sumerian goddess.” Yeah, I said that and my girlfriend’s a goddess herself. Feel free to call me a hypocrite; I’m sure the guilt will kick in later, anyway. While I’m eating, the phone suddenly rings. Moon says, “I’ll get that,” and before I can even blink, she’s teleported the phone receiver to her ear. “Yeah…oh, hi, Pumpkin!...yeah, we’re not really doing anything today.…Pacific War? Yeah, team’s not even starting the preps for that until next week, so I’m basically taking it easy….Yeah, sure! C’mon over, we’d love to meet them!...No, it’s not a problem. Sure, okay, see you then!” With a blink, she sends the phone back to the cradle and looks at me with sad eyes. “Well, so much for the fun…Pumpkin just called; she’s bringing her sister over with said sister’s girlfriend.” “Really? Is she hot?” I ask, teasing Moon. You’d think I’d learn to not push things…but that’s probably never going to happen. She just gives me a mildly annoyed glance before saying, “I think I’m going to take a shower. It’s going to be about an hour before they get here.” She leans in again and kisses me before saying, “Don’t take too long, okay?” With that, she walks towards the bathroom while transforming into her human form. Watching her body melt and warp like that as it settles into the form of the woman everyone knows? I’m probably never going to get used to that. But as I get back to eating breakfast, I know that honestly? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I recall reading somewhere that there’s a rule about twins, especially identical ones: that no matter how intertwined they are, they will always be very, very different. And I don’t know how true that is; I have a pair of fraternal cousins that live somewhere in Indiana, but I was just a kid when I last saw them, and they were already teenagers, so I suppose you can say they really don’t count. Furthermore, if I’ve met anyone who was a twin, I’m not exactly sure: I know quite a few of my friends, as well as my co-workers, have siblings, but how the birth order tied in is not exactly part of your average conversation. That being said, I’m getting an education right now. Whereas Pumpkin is bubbly and friendly, the best way to describe Vanilla is intense. Though they’re identical twins, from the bright smile that Pumpkin gives everyone to the peering look in Vanilla’s eyes, there’s a clear difference. And frankly, seeing the way that Vanilla – despite her girlfriend sitting right next to her as though the latter wanted to straddle the former – looked at me as though she was undressing me…well, I’ll be honest: it made me feel uncomfortable. I think I can sympathize now with Carrie from all the times she talked about that creep in the apartment next door to hers before she moved. “So,” Moon says, to break the ice, “What do you do, Vanilla?” It’s not really noticeable by the others, but I know my otherworldly girlfriend enough to see when she’s pissed. If it wasn’t for the fact that Pumpkin’s here, she probably would have thrown Vanilla off the mountain right about now. She gives me the briefest of glances…and that’s more than telling. Man, maybe I shouldn’t have made that joke this morning. «No, you shouldn’t have,» she says via our mind link, «But I love you and forgive you regardless. This bitch, on the other hand….» Vanilla smiles. “I’m a studio engineer for KGXY in Albany, Oregon, where sis and I are from. I also co-own the local LGBT bookstore and coffee shop with my gal, here.” She gives the other girl a needlessly long caress and did I mention this is making me feel really uncomfortable? “Carmilla here is bisexual, while I prefer to think of myself as pansexual…and I’m always looking for someone…new…to play with.” “Sis!” Pumpkin scolded. She looked with embarrassment at me and Moon. “Sorry about that. Nilla’s somewhat…ah…outgoing, you could say.” “I...see.” If looks could kill, Moon would have vaporized Pumpkin’s sister right about now. “So what brings you to town?” “Boredom,” she said. “Carmilla and I are…looking for some excitement and we’re always…interested.” She then laughed off the blistering glare that Pumpkin was giving her sister. Have I mentioned that all of this is making me extremely uncomfortable? Well, dinner was…interesting, and let’s leave it at that. Finally, Vanilla and Carmilla said they were going back to their hotel and took off in their rental car, leaving Pumpkin at our place. “Bet they don’t even make it that far,” Moon said, the irritation in her voice clear as night. “You don’t think so?” I ask her. “Are you kidding? If we’d let them borrow the spare bedroom, they would’ve broken it in an hour.” Pumpkin blushes. “Look, I’m really sorry about that. I know Nilla can be a…handful, but she is my sister and I do love her. I just wish she wouldn’t be so…well…you know.” “That bad?” Moon asks. Pumpkin blushes even more furiously than the last time, I note – yeah, it’s gotta be that bad. “Well, Carmilla said yesterday that when they arrived, she wanted to thank me for letting them stay over by, quote, ‘making me sing like an opera star’, unquote. I went and complained to Nilla about it, and Nilla’s response was that if Nilla got to have all the fun, well, she was obligated to go first because it was the duty of older sisters to initiate younger ones into that kind of thing.” Moon’s eyes suddenly went wide; I’m guessing she was just as floored about that as I am. “She actually propositioned you?” Pumpkin nodded. “Lots of times, actually – though she knows I’ll turn it down; believe me, I’m just as squicked as you are. But, things like that don’t bother her that much; heck, her first boyfriend was one of our cousins. They broke up because he already thought it was weird dating his cousin and he was worried about her getting pregnant. She said that turned her on even more, and that was the end of that.” I’m not surprised when Moon says at the same time as me, “TMI, Pumpkin.” The look on Pumpkin’s face was frustrated. “Believe me, guys – I know.” I yawned. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I gotta get some snooze time. Gotta get up earlier in the morning to catch the train in Anaheim for an interview with Sony down in San Diego. Think you can keep each other out of trouble until I get back?” Moon rolls her eyes. “Just as long as her sister isn’t trying to proposition everyone in all of SoCal, I think we should be fine, love.” Pumpkin, hearing that, merely rolls her eyes. “Oh, and don’t game too much, you’ll burn your eyes out or something,” I joke. I think it’s something that my parents told me once or something like that. Or maybe it was about the TV. Does that even really apply in the age of LED TVs, anyway? I feel Moon’s peck on my cheek as I hear in my mind, «Yes, dear. Besides, I think Pumpkin needs to talk a little more about her sister. There’s something that’s clearly bothering her and I don’t want her to feel like she on this alone.» «Hon, just because she’s got a sister that’s an ultra slut doesn’t mean that she’s got something to get off her chest…unless it’s Vanilla’s hands.» «Trust me, love, it’s more than that,» Moon insists even as she’s walking to the game room we built in the basement of the house, holding a vastly different verbal conversation with Pumpkin at the same time. How the hell she can multitask at that level is beyond me. «Call it mare’s intuition if you want, but I think our dear Pumpkin’s holding a secret, and I think I’m going to get to the bottom of it, if only because she’s a friend and I don’t want her to suffer.» «Okay, just be careful that you don’t expose your own,» I remind her. «Her secret could be something just minor and embarrassing; yours could end up with us being on the run for the rest of our lives.» I don’t get a response to that, but I know she got it. In the meanwhile, I do the usual stuff getting ready for some snoozin’ time. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow and the Amtrak down to San Diego is way uncomfortable to begin with. Most of the day later, as I’m stepping out of the Sony offices, hoping to catch a taxi back to Union Station, when I see an all-too familiar person step by me. “You know I can find you anywhere on the planet,” Moon said, giving me a kiss in greeting. “Being in a relationship has its advantages.” And just like that, I know something’s wrong. “What’s wrong, hon?” “I think I found the changeling,” Moon says, worried. “I think it’s Pumpkin.” I blink. “What, what?” She merely nods in reply, and I say, “Look, let’s go grab some lunch – I hear some of the places in the Gaslamp Quarter are pretty good – and we can talk over all this. Are you sure about this?” “I am,” she replies as I flag down a taxi. “I know that this is going to sound funny as hell, but I know that you’re thinking that as an alicorn I should have some sort of sixth sense of what’s a changeling. The truth is, I don’t – or if it I did, it went well…with her, if you know what I mean. And if Celestia ever developed one, I wasn’t exactly privy to that.” About twenty minutes later, we’re both seated at Barleymash, a brewpub that looked interesting enough. We make our orders and she casts some sort of silencing spell and now we can practically shout everything and no one will hear a single thing if it’s related to the conversation. “After you went to bed, she and I gamed for a little while – she’s apparently signed up in the FPS category at Pacific War, and she’s actually pretty good with a heavy gunner. So then we stopped after a while and I asked her if there was something wrong. She nodded and she said that there was, but she didn’t want to really talk about it. I prodded her, and she said it had something to do with her family, and I gather that there’s some sort of big family secret that she didn’t want to let out. Finally, she said something subvocally, and had I really been human, I probably would’ve missed it.” “What was it?” I ask. “She said, ‘zuul nichestvoh’ , which is Czett’ryn – the changeling language – for deception.” “Sounds like Russian…or maybe I watched too many of those cheap films from the 80s, I dunno. But I mean, are you sure about this? I mean, Pumpkin is one of your closest friends.” The look on her face was pained. “I know; I don’t like the idea of assuming that my friends are monsters!” she cried. She then raised her finger to indicate that the waiter was coming; as planned, I briefly changed the discussion to a talk about Pacific War. Moon obliged, talking about how we were going to have to reserve a hotel in Honolulu, and that she’d have to do a lot of preparations for some seriously heavy-duty combat against other international teams. Needless to say, this was the big leagues for her, and approaching a level of superstardom – or at least as much as someone was going to get for her particular career. Once the waitress departed with our orders, she went over the rest of the evidence. “She felt very closed, closed in a way that I usually don’t get from people. She was acting almost as though she was another person. That’s something changelings do: Even though they can imitate their targets down to a T, they’re still distinct individuals – or as much as you’re going to get in a hivemind – and so they’re not going to be able to able to perfectly imitate a target in front of someone they know. I wish I had a concrete example I could give you, but unfortunately, one doesn’t exactly come to mind.” I smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve read The Prince and the Pauper, so I’m familiar with the concept. So you’re saying that they wouldn’t know anything that only someone close would know, like for example that my sister likes dipping pickles in mayonnaise?” In turn, Moon looks at me funny, and I try not to laugh. “Hey, it’s true – I have no idea where Carrie picked that up. Suffice to say that it’s weird as shit but hey, family’s family.” “Um, yes, something like that.” “Any other info?” I ask, trying to change the subject from my sister’s weird dietary habits. “Yes. There’s Vanilla. She’s acting like a changeling queen, to be honest. Most of the changeling queens that Celestia and…Luna…came across were always, how shall we say, ‘vigorously amorous’? Perpetually in heat, to be honest – it’s an extremely easy method of harvesting very powerful emotions, as ones based around love are some of the biggest ones around.” “I didn’t know that was even possible with an estrus cycle,” I admit. Wait, do ponies even have estrus cycles? Now that I think of it, Moon’s never gone PMS on me, so there’s not that…. “Changelings, as far as I know, don’t even have one. If anything, they’re more like monotremes, which are extinct on my world, and very rare on this one.” She sighed. “Truthfully, I don’t even know how to react to the fact that Pumpkin is one, assuming that’s the case. I mean, I don’t really have many close friends, and between her and Katie, that’s most of my social interaction. But the truth is that at the same time, she drained the guy who attacked me on stage. In Equestria, that’s a major crime, or at least was when I was there. And we cannot afford to have anything like this happen here on Earth, or else the kind of chaos that will ensue will be nothing unlike anything that has ever happened in your history.” As the food comes, I digest the thought. I know Moon’s history, but I trust my girlfriend completely and utterly. But I can’t say that about Pumpkin. Granted, she’s a nice girl, but…I don’t have that sort of history that I do with Moon or any of my other friends. And knowing Moon, she’s torn between what she feels is a duty to protect the Earth and her friendship with Pumpkin. Frankly, I’m a little out of my depth with this one. I’ll have to ask her to talk to Katie about it, albeit in a rather roundabout way. Maybe it’s just one of those woman things that I’m never going to figure out. And I realize I’m seriously fucked if there’s going to be a lot of these in my life. Shit. Well, at least I’ve got a one-of-a-kind girl to help me deal with it. The next two weeks are rough, to say the least. Moon’s out of the house at almost all hours now, and she’s watching both Pumpkin and Vanilla full time. The only time she comes back home is when she’s utterly exhausted between flying to Pumpkin’s place and heading to Oregon to spy over Vanilla. She also points out that Vanilla and her girlfriend have a very open relationship, which is something that I really didn’t want to know. I mean, yeah, I probably wouldn’t have minded knowing Vanilla and Carmilla when I was a teen, but now that I’m adult with responsibilities, married once and with a live-in girlfriend, that kinda sorta life isn’t for me anymore. Besides, keeping up with Moon in that regard is fun enough as is. Meanwhile, I write, work, edit, do all the kinds of stuff that I do when…well, when I felt I was alone again. I know I’m not. But there’s a tension building between and Moon and me right now. She’s obsessed with finding and shutting down that changeling. I know why, Lord Almighty, having that kind of monster running around all over Earth? No way in hell that I can’t approve. But as Moon has proven in our relationship, she’s prone to take shortcuts and not really think things through. So in a way, that kind of makes her like a Greco-Roman deity. Wow, I don’t even want to think how that would impact my own worldview. In any case, I finish up my latest story, when I get a call on the home line. I answer; turns out it’s Katie – and she’s crying. “Sorry to bother you,” she sniffs, “but I needed to talk to someone. Is Moon there?” “No, she’s out of town, taking care of business up north,” I tell her. Hey, it’s the truth. But I’ve known Katie practically since she was in diapers; she knows she can turn to me for help if something goes south. “Katie? Something wrong?” “I just…I need to talk to someone,” she sobs. “My boyfriend…he and I broke up and I…I have….” “Say no more – I’ll be right there. Where are you?” “I’m at my place. You have the address, right?” I check the phone, and yeah, still have it. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t worry, big bro’s on the way.” Despite her situation, I can hear her chuckle a bit; that’s an encouraging sign. “Okay, I’ll be waiting for you.” As I get up and grab my keys, I wonder if I should leave Moon a note. But then I sigh and realize it’s been well over a day since I last saw her, and good or bad, she always knows where I am – wish I could say the same about her. The minute I get to Katie’s place, there’s something that feels off. Maybe it’s just the fact that Katie’s growing up and going through stuff, or maybe it’s because of my own relationship problems at the moment, but I let it be. Katie needs me to be on game, not giving her a justification why men suck or whatever. I knock on the door and I hear a muffled, “Almost there!” She then opens the door, and whatever that feeling is? It seems to vanish. All I see right now is Katie. “Sorry about this,” she says, hugging me tight. It’s the last thing I feel before I pa—
ten. she. rokovaya oshibka.View Onlinehe. she. we.ten. she. rokovaya oshibka.For the umpteenth night I’m sitting in the tree outside of Pumpkin’s place, wondering why I’m here instead of at home. I know I’ve strained my relationship with North, and all for something that I’m completely sure of…but have no absolute proof in regards to. I know that there’s a changeling out there that’s been preying on people for as long as I’ve been here, if not longer…but at the same time, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, either on Earth or Equus, is that there’s no such thing as a sure bet. Still, I sit in the tree, watching her front yard, waiting for a sign of her coming home. Sure enough, a few minutes later I see her car drive up. She seems okay with a tight smile on her face, but I can’t discount that – that could simply be a slasher’s smile or a Stepford smile, or a Pan-Am smile, or…. I really gotta lay off TV Tropes when I’m bored. As she gets out of her car, I hear her muttering something. It’s low enough that I can’t completely make it out, but from the sound it has to be Czett’ryn. My heart breaks as I realize that one of my closest friends since I’ve moved here is one of those emotion-sucking parasites. Maybe I’m not seeing the full picture – I may be a goddess, but even deities are prone to mistakes – but the fact that Pumpkin is one of those…things cuts worse than a wound. I watch as she suddenly stands stock still. And without warning, she says to no one in particular, “C’mon out, I know you’re there.” I don’t make a move, but the fact that she knows I’m here clinches it for me. Plus, how the hell did she hear me? I’m an expert at hiding in the night and whatnot – it’s one of those things that I’m naturally good at. So it’s to my surprise when Pumpkin pulls out a gun from her purse – where did she get a gun? – and calls out, “I know you’re there. Don’t make me use this!” I’m more worried about her than the gun. What would possess her to carry one of those? Granted, we have one at home, but that was more because it’s an old keepsake North inherited from his grandfather, who was in one of the human wars ages ago. I’m not even sure it really works. But as I see the shiny and well-polished one in Pumpkin’s hands, two things are clear: that it’s well tended for, and that she knows how to use it. “Last chance!” she shouts. “I know where you are and these are frangible rounds – they might not hurt anything else, but they’ll certainly hurt you!” I might be able to get around them, but I don’t know the first thing about bullets, and all it’s going to take is some innocent walking around. I could zap her gun from there or a million other things, but I don’t know what else she’s carrying and then there’s the fact that a round could go off; life isn’t like videogames. Alighting from the tree I was in, I slide into the shadows and dart through them to about a couple of blocks away. Then, because apparently I’m not above using dea ex machina, I summon my car then get in, then drive up all casual-like. As I approach her driveway, I honk. She flinches, and the look in her eyes is wild – that’s worrisome if I ever saw a look like that before…because the last time I saw it was on North. As I roll down my window, she sees me and gasps. “Oh, God don’t do that, Moon!” she calls out at me. “Nearly gave me a heart attack!” “I can imagine!” I call out to her. She doesn’t know it, but I’m casting a spell that lets me look at her vitals. In the past, we could only get one or two readings at a time from it, but it’s amazing how adaptive modern technology can be. What I’m seeing, in an overlay of sorts in front of my eyes, is a UI, giving me her heart rate, depth of breathing, perspiration levels and general body heatmap. I wonder if Celestia/that bitch/my sister/my sister? has developed something similar for her ponies in the time since. “What’s with the gun?” I ask her. An awkward smile comes onto her face, the kind that lets me know that she’s calming down. “Don’t worry; it’s a fake – airsoft. You think I’d carry a real gun?” she tells me. Unfortunately for her, I’ve played enough FPSes that I can identify an MP-448 Skyph when I see one. Those aren’t exactly common, certainly not common enough to make an airsoft replica from, I’m pretty sure. But I’m going to let that pass. “So what brings you out here?” she asks me as she finally realizes that I’m sitting in my car. “Well, was in the area for some stuff, and thought I’d come by and visit, if you didn’t mind. Why are you out here with a gun – even if it’s fake?” I ask her. Hopefully she’s got some sort of answer, even if I already know the truth. “Uh…coyotes!” she says, a little too quickly to be believable. “We, uh, have a problem with them occasionally in this neighborhood. Got out of my car and thought I heard one.” “And you think an airsoft is really going to stop it?” I ask her. Even if I wasn’t, well, me, I’d find that a little dumb. A BB gun might do some damage, as would a pellet gun. But all a small wad of plastic, unless you manage to aim for and hit both eyes, is going to do nothing more than really piss off an already aggressive, feral animal. She sighs. “Fine, it’s a real gun, okay? You’d laugh if I told you why I carry it.” “You’d be surprised. Besides, I came to visit you.” “Well, yeah, thanks.” I watch as she holsters the gun with a practiced air that makes it clear that she’s not only familiar with its use, but that it gets used very regularly. And as I park my car behind hers, I realize that’s incredibly worrisome: if she really is what I think she is, then that means she’s armed and dangerous, and it’s going to be that much harder to corral her without one of us getting hurt…and I have/we have/Luna has walked away from worse. I’ve really got to figure out how to deal with that mental and mathematical tense in my head before it drives me up the wall. As I sit down on her couch, the place is nothing like I imagined, certainly nothing at all like I imagined Pumpkin’s house. In addition to her gaming rig, which takes up most of her living room, there’s a lot of Russian and Soviet art. A lot of it. I’m not familiar with most of it, but I do recall seeing things like this from a few videogames I’ve played and some movies I’ve seen with North. I then see something that catches my eye, and I go look at it. It’s her diploma. She told me once that she graduated early from Cal Poly, and sure enough here it is, a Master’s Degree in Mathematics, awarded to…. Huh? “Yeah, you’re reading that right,” a voice behind me says. I turn to see her, holding a tray with drinks and chips. “Sorry.” “I thought your name was Pumpkin Spice,” I comment. In turn, she gives me an awkward smile as she sets down the tray on the coffee table. “It is; I legally changed it last year to the name I’ve pretty much used all my life. Same thing with my sister, though I think she still kept her legal birth name.” “So,” I begin, sitting down on the love seat across from her. “Okay, so, Ms. Nadezhda Tykva Pryanost,” I say, a little harder than I intend. But I’m still surprised that her name really isn’t Pumpkin Spice – or wasn’t, if I heard her right. The look I receive from her is one of anger; I wasn’t expecting that. “How long have you and your counterparts at the CIA been following me? I thought you were a friend!” “Huh?” Of all the things that I expected to come out of her mouth, that was not one of them. Why do I feel like I just got caught up in that superspy MMO that Silvergold Interactive wants me to qualtest for them? “Look, don’t play dumb with me, okay? I told you guys, I have nothing to do with my birth parents or sister! I’ve only met them once! Why can’t you guys leave me alone?” To my horror, she starts bawling and she looks genuinely distraught. I blink my eyes to cast a spell, looking at her again. Nothing’s changed, and I don’t know enough about changeling physiology to tell if she’s one or if there’s merely something weird going on. Yeah, “merely” something weird. FML, as North often says. In any case, I’d better fix this. Pumpkin’s clearly bothered by something – still can’t believe she mentioned the CIA – and she’s one of my two best friends. Moving to her side and putting an arm around her, I say in the gentlest voice I can manage, “Pumpkin, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Part of me is internally recoiling, because I know exactly where I’m pulling this maternal act from; after all, it was the same way that she treated me/we/L— Not now, brain! Anyway, she turns to cry on me, soaking my shirt with her tears as I hug her close and let her just cut loose. Finally, after about ten minutes or so of this, I hear her mumble something. When I ask again, she lifts her head up from my chest and asks, “You’re really not CIA?” “No! If I were CIA, I certainly wouldn’t be driving a Kia,” I tell her, which is kind of funny, because I have enough magic to have my own fleet of Mercedez Benzes, and with North’s money we could probably do the same anyway. But North loves his Honda Civic and isn’t really one for fancy cars, and I guess I took my cue from that. “Plus, if I remember from really bad Hollywood films, doesn’t the FBI catch spies in the US?” “I’m not a spy!” she shouts, looking at me with a mixture of anger and fear. “I didn’t say you were…but something’s really bothering you, and I’m guessing it’s something you want to talk about?” She was quiet for the longest time, and during that time, she was clearly doing some soul searching before she finally started with, “Okay, because I need to tell someone I can trust, someone who’s not my parents or my sister.” I feel grateful for hearing that – always nice to know that I’m trusted – before Pumpkin launches into the weirdest story I have ever heard – and being a formerly-evil alicorn goddess trapped in another dimension, trust me I know weird; I’m practically intimate friends with the concept. The long and short of it, and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that Pumpkin’s life story is that of a spy novel. Seriously. I am not telling North. He’ll get ideas in his head of writing some epic spy novel series. Apparently Nadezhda and her sister Vanil – “Means vanilla in Russian,” she helpfully explains – were born in Washington DC to Ratmir and Avtonoma Ottenok, Russian refuseniks who tried to escape the country because of their ethnic Jewish background. They settled in DC towards the end of the Cold War and got decent jobs. But it wasn’t until after their twin daughters had turned five that they’d actually been exposed as deep cover Russian spies. The parents, having only had the children just for their cover, gave them up to child services workers in Maryland. A few months later, they were fostered, and eventually adopted by Donald and Leslie Spice, both nice and normal college professors. When they were ten, the family moved from DC to here. “Mom was the one who Americanized Nilla’s name, since they’re practically the same. But she didn’t care for my name – and I really didn’t like it either – but she found out my middle name means ‘pumpkin’ and there we go. I had my legal name on all my documents growing up, but I grew up as Pumpkin Spice; it helped that my Russian last name translates to ‘spice’, so there’s that. But after I graduated from college, I decided to legally change my name to that, both to honor my parents and to say that, well, I’m me.” Well, that makes sense, but what’s with the CIA bit? “Okay, want to t—” I start, but she cuts me off as a blush pretty much invades her cheeks. “Apparently after my biologicals were punted back to Moscow, they immediately had another kid, and that one they loved. So much so, in fact, that she went to all the best schools in Russia and then joined the KGB, or whatever it’s called nowadays. And that’s when the CIA got involved: they wanted to know if we had any contact with them – and we don’t. Heck, I didn’t even know I had a second sister until they mentioned it! Anyway, they kept hounded my parents and Nilla and her girlfriend; that’s why they were in town, so they could get away from that. But me, they hounded the most, probably because I collect Russian art. It probably didn’t help my case that unlike my sister, I actually kept up with the Russian I learned as a kid – comes in handy when talking to modders in the RU.” “I was wondering about that,” I tell her. “Yeah. Nilla and I have different coping mechanisms; mine just involves more money and less shameless nudity.” She looks at me and finishes with, “And that’s my deep dark secret. You know, I actually feel a little better now. Thanks!” I give her a smile and say that “You know, you’re not the only one with a big secret.” I wonder if I should tell her mine. It’s taking a bigger risk than she did, by far, but then again risks are relative – she risked losing her friendship with me (or so she thought) by confessing; could I have that same courage? “You have one, too?” she asks. I nod. “It’s a big one, bigger than yours,” I begin, and butterflies start swarming in my stomach. How will she react? Is anyone watching the place? To cover my tracks there, I snap my fingers behind my back and cast a silencing and distraction spell, which should cover my tracks. But the truth of the matter is that I really don’t know how any of this is going to play out, other than that I’m about to admit to the first person aside from my boyfriend that aliens exist…and that I’m one of them. I play the words through my mind: “Pumpkin, did you know that aliens exist – because I’m one of them?” Or what about, “Hey, guess what? I’m a jet black winged unicorn with eyes like a dragon and a mane like the night sky!” Okay, that sounds stupid, even if I show her what I really look like. I suppose I could give a pithy speech to start off, but the last time I did that, I ended up being used as target practice for the Elements of Harmony, not that I/we— Not now, brain! Guess I’m just going to have to wing this one. Looking intently at my friend, I open my mouth to speak. And then I feel it – the snap of a cord in my mind – and it fills me with blind terror, because I know what that means. There’s only one thing it could mean, and though I never told him, I always feared that moment would come. And at the edges of it, I feel something else, and that shocks me out of whatever momentary stupor I felt. No, no no! Dammit, no! I tell myself as I blast a hole through Pumpkin’s wall, transforming on the fly. How could I have been so stupid? So blind? With the bond between us broken, I have just seconds – fractions of, maybe – to make it there before something happens to North. Because if that bug so much as touches a hair on his head… …well, I’m a lot worse than the Orkin man, bug. It takes me a two seconds at full speed to get from Pumpkin’s place in Long Beach – I’m going to have to repair her house, as well as tell her the truth, assuming she hasn’t completely freaked out at this point – to get to the last known spot where he was, somewhere in Westminster. As a nanosecond goes by, I see his car parked in the driveway. A nanosecond more for me to tear down the door. Another one for me to see him on the ground. As much as I’m terrified for his condition, I don’t dare spare an instance to check on him because… …a split-second later, I’m wrapping my magic around the throat of the changeling that just floored him. My anger grows as I realize it’s taken the shape of Katie, my other best friend. North must have been tricked here, thinking Katie was in trouble. Well, the fucking thing is going to get trouble, in spades. “WHERE IS KATIE?” I roar at the damn thing. If North’s in trouble, it could mean that…. No, she has to be okay. I won’t stand for any of these bugs murdering people I care about! The creature in Katie’s shape looks at me with its solid green eyes and they grow in fear. I must have caught it off-guard, because it’s still in mid-change: there are black spots all over its body, as if it were diseased; the hair is pockmarked, the eyes are a solid, compound green as is the norm for its ilk; and its wings are splayed out, having torn their way out of the shirt it was wearing. It gurgles something that approaches words, and after a few seconds, I realize what that is: “I’m…Katie! Don’t…hu—” “YOU LIE!” I throw the thing against the wall, letting it collide like a ragdoll. As it slumps to the ground, I pick it up again, snarling, “You’re trying my patience, fell beast! Either tell me where she is or I will slay you where you stand, understood?” The creature looks at me with terror. “You’re the monster! You broke into my house, hurt my friend and tri….” Horror comes over the changeling’s face as some sort of recognition dawns on her. “N-no. They said you were a myth!” It starts punching and kicking in my direction, appendages uselessly flailing as I hold it in the air well away from me. “They said you didn’t exist!” I look at her coolly. “Oh, I can assure you I exist – which is more than you’ll be, soon enough! Now I’ll say it one last time: where is Katie Nguyen?” The changeling glares at me. “Look, scary or not, that’s not going to change the fact that I’m Katie, you bitch!” I hear North get up behind me, and I throw a shield around him; even though I have her pinned, I have no idea what she’s capable of. “Ugh, fuck, I feel like I just got hit by a truck,” he groans. “Sweetie, stay back,” I tell him, though the shield should keep him safe – or maybe not; if this is a disguised queen, well, one kept Ce…a certain white alicorn busy back with its invasion of our castle in the Everfree plains once. I try not to remember the castle that had once been my home, now a crumbling, forgotten wreck. “What’s going on?” he asks me. “Where’s Katie?” I don’t reply immediately, but instead move just a skosh so he can’t see the thing I have trapped in my magic. Also, it means he’ll stare at my ass for a while. What? He says he likes my butt. I have that on record! “She’s…she’s not her—” “North, help!” the thing shouts in Katie’s voice. I’ve already let the damn thing live too long, so instead I clamp down again with my magic on its throat. “Okay, if you’re not going to tell me what you did with her, then you can die! If you changelings have a hell,” I can’t help but seethe, “I hope you suffer endlessly for what you did to my best friend!” I’ll save you, Katie, somehow, right after I deal with this monster and any others that might be around. To my shock, the creature looks at me again, and a look of surprise comes onto her eyes. “Wait….Moon?! Moon? Is that you?” And a second later: “What the hell’s going on? Why are you that…that…monster?” “Moon, what’s going on?” North’s noticed the barrier around him. “Why do I have a force field around me? And where’s Katie?” “North, help!” the creature shouts again. I turn to look at him briefly. “I found the changeling. Problem is, she won’t tell me where Katie is. I’m keeping a shield around you in case this parasite decides to prey on your emotions.” “North!” The changeling begins pleading for her life. “Please, please tell her it’s me! Please!” “You’re an idiot,” I tell the thing. “Do you really think he thinks you’re Katie? He knows better.” The thing starts crying – hey, I didn’t even know those things were capable of crocodile tears – and looks right at him. “Please, North – you’re like a big brother to me. You know me.” «Hon, are changelings mind readers?» he immediately asks me over our mental link, and once again proves why I love him so. Only he would come up with a way to prove this creature isn’t her, and to shame that thing – if it’s even capable of such a feeling – before I end it. «No, they don’t have that capability,» I tell him, dropping the shield. «Let me know if you start feeling woozy and I’ll throw my shield up again – it means she’s trying to drain you.» «Got it,» he says as he moves forward. I watch him cross his arms as he looks at her, a slight disgust on his face; strangely, she seems to wince at that. “Okay, changeling? If you really are who you say you are, then tell me something only she and I would know. If you don’t…then tell me where she is. She’s a friend of mine and I care about her.” “I…care about you too, No—” The look in his eyes even surprises me as he glares at it strong enough to practically melt steel. I know he and Katie have somewhat of a filial relationship, but geez, even…whatsername didn’t stick up for me/her/us like that! Not now, brain! “Talk,” he tells her in a cold voice that I could use some pointers on developing. She sighs and looks sadly at him, then mumbles something. “What was that?” “Underwear valentines!” she blurts, her skin blushing a strange mixture of green and red. As for North, I see the look on his face, and the words he speaks floors me: “Katie? Is that you?” “That’s what I said, idiot! Now save me before this monster murders me!” she shouts. I look at him; he’s not the only one confused. “North, honey, what the hell’s going on?” He seems really stunned right now, but I’ll have to take care of that later; I’m not doing much better than him. “It’s her,” he says. “When she was seven, I had to babysit her on Valentine’s Day, and she wanted to give me one, too. But she didn’t have any paper, and her mother had just done her laundry, so….” He scratches the back of his head, clearly embarrassed by the memory. “I had to explain to her why that was multiple levels of wrong.” The whole thing as I’m picturing it in my head – okay, so I’m picturing them as a filly and a teenage colt, so sue me; it’s what I’m used to – and the sheer absurdity of the whole thing is enough to make me bust a metaphorical gut. I collapse in tears, laughing my ass off as I release Katie, who, as she drops to the floor, lands on her butt. Strangely, that’s more than enough to make her spots go away, her hair fill out again, wings disappear, and her eyes go back to normal. “North!” she hisses at him as he’s laughing; she’s in a full blush now, and the coloration is red, that of human blood. “Maybe I should’ve had you kill me….” she moans as she cradles her head in embarrassment. Yeah, that’s Katie; you can’t fake that kind of reaction. But how? I change back to normal – well, normal as she knows me – and offer her a hand up. “So, you’re a changeling?” She takes it. “Yes, I am, Princess,” she says… …then slugs me across the face – hard. “I thought you were my friend!” she retorts. “How long have you and that bitch you call a sister been following me?” She then watches in surprise as the hit, strong enough to give a normal human woman a black eye, vanishes within a second. “What are you—” “Don’t lie to me, Moon – or should I call you Luna, since that’s clearly who you are! Princess Luna the Changeling Slayer, murderer of all!” “Well, why are you a changeling?” I ask her. “I’m not a changeling!” she rants. “My ancestors were, and I’m a Goddamn throwback – you think I like being some sort of freak? At least I don’t kill anyone, not like you, Princess!” She then looked around her place. “And you trashed my place, too!” To my relief, North steps between us. “Katie, look: We’re all a bit frazzled right now. For starters, you never told me why you wanted me to come over.” “That’s because I lost control of my power and drained you by accident,” she says, another blush coming onto her face. “Sorry.” She then looks at him and asks, “So, want to tell me why you’re dating the Lunar Tyrant?” “I’m not Princess Luna,” I tell her, hoping that she doesn’t want an explanation – and that my brain decides not to go into autistic mode. “Oh, sure!” she growls. “Yeah, because alicorns are so damn common in pony world! I mean, c’mon – your butt tattoo says you’re Luna! What, do you think I was born yesterday?” North tries to plead for calm. “Look, we’re all more than a little wound right now,” he tells both of us, “and you both need to calm down right now. Moon, hon, I think Katie thinks you’re that princess. Katie, I can assure you, she’s not Princess Luna or whatever her name is – Moon is her own alicorn and if anything is a refugee from…Equestra?” “Equestria,” I correct, then wince. Knowing the correct name isn’t going to help. But to my relief, Katie calms down a little. “Look, I’m going to put on some coffee; I think I need an Irish like no tomorrow, especially after all this.” She then points at me and says, “And you have to clean up! You’ve been here enough times; you know how everything looks.” “Fine,” I grunt, starting to cast spells to repair everything. I’m also going to have to fix the door an— Oh, shit – there’s Pumpkin’s place, too. I can practically feel my jaw hit the floor as that realization sinks in. I look at the clock; it’s two in the morning and me, Pumpkin, Katie and North are sitting at a nearby Denny’s. Katie’s still looking at me hesitantly, and I notice that Pumpkin’s wearing a light jacket for the time of year, a clear sign she brought her gun. Right now I don’t know if I’ve just pissed away the two closest friends I’ve had since, well, since I got here, maybe before that. Thankfully, the place is practically empty, and I cast a silencing spell. To my surprise, Katie knows what it was. “Yeah,” she admits, stirring her coffee for the how-manyth time in the past few minutes. “Being a throwback really does have its ups and downs. I mean, I can use magic and all that, but only when I’m ‘charged’, and that depends on how much I’ve drained from people – and I generally I don’t like that; it makes me ill.” “But how were you charged?” She sighs, and I get the feeling I’m not going to like this story. “Okay, you probably heard about the guy who attacked you, and how he was ‘grayed out’? That was my fault. I…I got angry that he did that and I wanted to get revenge. So I….” She blushes and I wince as I realize what she did. Changelings generally steal the emotion from their victims via their licorne – their horn, to use the layman’s term. But Katie doesn’t have a horn and that means a more direct approach. “You didn’t….” North says. Guess he picked that up as well. “Yeah; that’s why I called you. My boyfriend found out somehow; I’m betting it was the HIVE that told him. He called it quits earlier today, and that’s why I asked North to come – because I needed someone I trusted completely and you weren’t available.” I wince as I realize I could have put this to ease much easier instead of throwing my friend around like a rag doll. Still, I’m curious about what she had to say: “You mentioned a hive?” “Not that kind of hive. The Hampstead Institute for Vitalizing Education; it was started by one of my ancestors back in the 1700s.” I pull out my phone and do a quick Google. “Uh, the Hampstead Institute is a Dublin-based charity focusing on education for the poor. According to this, they mainly operate out of Ireland and the UK.” “Yeah, and if you keep reading down, you’ll notice there are international chapters – there’s about sixteen of us throwbacks known to the HIVE, and I’m the only one who lives in the US. Thus, the US branch was headquartered in Santa Monica and founded the same year I was born,” Katie tells me, the tone in her voice clearly bitter. “Yes, the HIVE’s public focus is on public education, but their real reason for existence is to watch over me and the others – apparently to our grand family, we’re ticking time bombs.” She’s no longer even trying to hide the anger and disgust she feels, and for probably the first time tonight, it has nothing to do with me. “Want to talk about it?” I ask her. “Not really, but…I guess I don’t have a choice,” she tells me, and I can see the pain in her voice as she begins.
eleven. he. folklore.View Onlinehe. she. we.eleven. he. folklore.Tonight has been a hell of a night: I get a hug from Katie, and then I black out. I come to and find Moon, in her full alicorn glory, slamming into something that looks like a mutant version of my old friend, and then maneuvering so I can see her ass. Yes, I tap dat ass, I have no problem saying that. But I can’t help but wonder why she did that. I find out a few minutes after that, and needless to say, my world is thrown for a loop – not. Seriously, I live with a shapeshifting, formerly-demonic pony goddess; do you really think that finding out the girl who’s like a kid sister to me is an alien and Moon’s other best friend is the child of Russian spies would throw me that much? I could take all these ideas and make them into a novel, but the best I would get is some book publisher’s editor telling me to stick to journalism “because it’s my strength,” quote unquote, when he means “What the hell are you doing, bringing this fanfic crap to me?” So now, I’m sitting at the Denny’s in Garden Grove, drinking horrible coffee and being the fourth wheel in the world’s most bizarre Girls Night Out that ever occurred. Right now, Katie’s telling us about her past and that an organization that I thought was a charity turned out to be the biggest illuminati conspiracy that ever existed. Ewige Blumenkraft, indeed. «Don’t even think it,» she tells me over our mental link. «Story of the year, hon,» I remind her. «I am a hack, in case you’ve forgotten.» «She’s kinda like your little sister, in case you’ve forgotten,» she reminds me, and that’s more than enough to settle the discussion. With something this big, there’d be no way I could shield Katie from all the good and bad, and more importantly, if they come after her, that might give the government an excuse to start peeking closer to home…. I hate it when Moon’s right like that, but hey, what can I do? Meanwhile, Katie’s still verbally exploding, and it’s pretty obvious that she has an ax to grind with these folks. “Yes, the HIVE’s public focus is on public education, but their real reason for existence is to watch over me and the others – apparently to our grand family, we’re ticking time bombs.” The look of anger and sorrow on her face is enough that I want to walk over and hug her, because I hate seeing her like that. And as the little voice in the back of my head – the little voice that isn’t my girlfriend, that is – tells me that I was briefly contemplating making it worse for her, I tell it to shut up. Moon asks if Katie wants to talk about it, and Katie’s response is heart-wrenching, at least for me: “Not really, but I don’t have a choice. You have to understand something: to my family, these genes are a curse – none of us want them, and it’s a billion times worse if you’re a throwback like me. The HIVE ensured I was an only child because I was born. It freaks me out to know that I turn part insect, that I’m not biologically even a full member of the human race, and that somewhere along the line of my ancestors got busy with a…whatever it is! “Look, here’s what I know, because it’s been passed down in the family. The first of them – and yes, I’m using ‘them’ as I don’t consider myself a changeling in the slightest – appeared from your world when a portal accident happened. From what our history says, it killed the queen, and the senior-most nymph was forced to morph into a queen to save the few changelings that came with her. With few options, Sinead – that’s what our family history says she renamed herself in the human world – passed herself off as a young widow with children, and settled down in County Kilkenny. Eventually she married a blacksmith who raised her ‘offspring’ as his own; she also had more with him as well.” Something about that doesn’t parse with me, so I ask: “Is that even possible?” Moon gives me a look that implies I should know better. “With magic, anything’s possible, hon.” “Yeah, provided that you have the right kind of magic,” Katie interjected. “And given that changelings were well ahead of the curve when it came to knowledge about the damage caused by inbreeding, well, it’s not like Sinead could have mated with her ‘sons.’ So instead, she practiced a little-known magic technique that allowed changelings to have children with other species. Likewise, as her children grew older, they did the same. But there’s a price to be paid for that: over the course of generations, changelings became more human and had less ability to change into other species. Yes, you’ve heard the legends of changelings, but they were already present, and that did not make life easier for my ancestors. “About the 15th century or so, the clan finally realized that only ‘queens’ – girls that were strong enough to manifest the old powers, but not in any great capacity – had any of the transformational or magic abilities. Aside from that, everyone else in my bloodline are just carriers, waiting to pass on until they – very much unintentionally – breed with a distant relative or a human with really recessive genes. In either case, a throwback is born; in the latter case, it’s arguably better than whatever birth defects a child like me would have been born with. For the longest time, marrying a queen was considered a feather in the cap of someone of changeling blood; maybe if I lived several centuries back, I could have been an actual queen. “Anyway, the ‘HIVE’ was created when it was discovered that Portuguese serial killer Luisa de Jesús turned out to be a queen; reputedly she went mad and murdered about thirty babies because she thought she could bring them back as changeling soldiers so she could rule the land. After that, several nobles of changeling blood then created the HIVE where most lived, and tasked them with tracking any queens – who were thereafter labeled ‘throwbacks’. Throwbacks have been shunned since, and from that point on, any couple that has one cannot have another child for fear of upsetting the balance, and as for me? I might be allowed to adopt.” My heart wrenches at that, and now I know why she sees me as a de facto big brother – because she’ll never have another sibling. It’s probably also why she’s grown so close to Moon: the need to be close to her “sister-in-law”. I can see the tears in Moon’s and Pumpkin’s eyes; hey, girls are just like that. As for me, well…the room must’ve gotten smoky all of a sudden; I’m sure the HVAC’ll clear it up shortly. “Katie,” I tell her with all seriousness, “you should’ve told me sooner. I would have helped you – I’ll certainly do what I can to straighten things out with your fiancé.” To my surprise, she waves it off. “It’s okay, North, really. The HIVE tends to be a pain in my life, but a manageable one; plus, they pay for my house, so it’s not that bad. Plus, part of me wonders if Beau was a HIVE agent and not just dating me for my dazzling looks.” She then wiped her tears and said with a smile that genuinely makes me proud, “So I’m a throwback – so what? It defines what I am, but not who I am. I am Kathryn Nguyen, human…with a little extra, and that’s who I want to be, so that’s who I will be.” “Well said,” Moon tells her. Then, without prodding, she goes into our life story. As she does, she reaches over and takes my hand for comfort; I know that after all this time, telling others who and what she really is, is most likely a terrifying experience for her. She probably feels as though she’s risking her friendship with them, but I know better. The look in Katie’s eyes is one of hidden awe, and from what she told me of Pumpkin’s past, well, she probably needs more friends than just her sister. Especially that freak. Swear to God, she’d probably give Destiny a run for her money. And no, I wouldn’t want to see what those two would do together. Finally, it’s over, and it’s Pumpkin that provides the needed levity: “Wow, I’m the daughter of Russian spies and I think I’m the most normal girl at the table.” Then after that it’s hugs and kisses and vows of eternal friendship, Kind Hearts and Coronets. Meanwhile, I’m still stuck here drinking this Goddamn terrible coffee. But I can see the exhaustion in my girl’s eyes as we all get up so I can pay the bill. We’re going to be sleeping in this morning, and tomorrow’s going to be a new day, or whatever the hell those cheesy motivational posters say. God must hate me. Or at least not want me to get some sleep, because I feel the brush of feathers in my face. “Not tonight, hon,” I mumble. “I’m exhausted.” I turn around to see her gorgeous eyes glowing softly in the dark. “Sorry, can’t sleep,” she tells me. “Circadian?” I ask. I know once in a while she has a hard time sleeping during the night; must have something to do with being a goddess of the night or something. “No. Guilt.” That makes me sit up; it’s definitely going to be one of those nights. “Wanna talk about it?” “No, but you’re going to make me, aren’t you?” she asks. “I’d never make you, hon.” “Which is your way of telling me to spill,” she replies; she knows me well. “I feel bad for Katie. She has to live with the genetic history of being one of those monsters…except that it sounds more like they were trying to survive than just being soul-sucking beasts. Furthermore, she has to live her life in a very harsh manner, and being watched practically every single moment. That’s not fair.” “Well, what can you do, Moon? Seriously, we’ll always be there for her, and I think there’s not much more than that. I mean, what are you expecting to do, march into the local branch of the HIVE and tell them to leave her alone?” She cocks her head as if in thought, and I realize I may have just made a very big mistake. The kind that starts wars. “You know, that is a wonderful idea!” She leans down and kisses me. “I knew there was a reason I love you.” With that, she settles in for sleep and now it’s going to be me who’s going to have the sleepless night. What have I done? “No,” I tell her, trying to keep my head up from the table. “You’re not going to win this,” she gently tells me as she sets the bacon, eggs, French toast, and freshly-squeezed orange juice in front of me. It’s a subtle-as-a-sledgehammer signal to keep my strength up, because I’m not going to win this argument. “Hon, you do realize you’re talking about breaking into a non-governmental organization’s US headquarters, right?” “Of course,” she says, sitting down with the same thing in front of her. “And for the record, we’re not breaking in. We have an appointment at two with Dr. Padraigh Molloy, the CEO of the US Branch. Apparently you’re interviewing them to kick off their new ‘tablets for everyone’ initiative.” I’m a little peeved at that. “Oh, you did not just—” “No, actually, while you were asleep, Cherry called. It seems that Diego was supposed to handle that assignment, but he came down with a bad case of pneumonia, and since they can’t get ahold of anyone else, so she wanted to know if you could do it. I told her that I’d ask, but you’d probably say yes. So, go team Technon?” I stab my fork down on the home fries; they’re probably perfectly spiced as they always are when she cooks, but that’s not the point. “Hon, you didn—” “She is your little sister,” Moon says in an even tone. “Maybe not by birth, but she sees you that way. She needs you, North – she needs her big brother to stick up for her. And believe me, I know what it’s like for a little sister to need their elder sibling, more than you can ever know.” “Really? Because I never really needed Don, save for when I was getting into fights!” I tell her. I should know; I lost quite a few of them when I was younger and didn’t end up hospitalized because he showed up in time. “Because if that pastel-maned bitch had ever given a fuck about the little sister that she was ostracizing, I wouldn’t have been born,” she says relatively calmly, but I can feel the power radiating from here. I tend to forget that Moon’s not a “complete” person, but the magical equivalent of a transporter twin (and that was never my favorite TNG episode to begin with.) So I suppose that things that normal people would brush off – even normal ponies – are that much more important to her, because she only has that frame of reference. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it, but you can’t expect me to like this. Especially if we have armed guards shooting at us by the time this is all over.” She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, love – you should know by now that once we get there, the biggest threat in that building is going to be me.” I really don’t like how that sounds. “Pleasant afternoon t’ ye, Mr. Shores,” Dr. Molloy says, offering his hand. He’s got that full Irish brogue that reminds me of that dick Eddie and it’s all I can do to not beat the shit out of him right then and there. But then again, I do know some nice Irishfolk; Katie’s mother Mary is one of them. Actually, probably the only one I know, now that I think of it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” I tell him as I shake his hand and lie through my teeth. “Ah, please, call me Paddy,” he says as he gestures us to the nearby sofa. “And who might this charming young lass be?” Moon speaks up, offering her hand, while she holds an expensive camera she probably just genned up in her other. “Selene De Lune, Technon staff photographer.” He kisses her hand and now I really want to deck the smarmy guy. From his flaming red hair to his green eyes, he seems very much the ladykiller type. The tan and slightly muscled body probably drives all girls crazy, and for him to have earned a doctorate and not be much older than me, well, maybe I’m feeling a little jealous. «A little, truth be told, but I love you for that.» Sometimes the mental link lets her know some things I’d like to keep to myself, but…at least I’m glad to know my little alicorn cutie only has eyes for me. “So, how’d ye like to start off this interview?” he asks as we all sit down by the couch. Unsurprisingly, Moon wastes no time. Setting aside the camera, she looks at him and says, “I’m going to make this easy for you: don’t ever bother Kathryn Nguyen again. She is under my protection now.” He looks at us with a curious glance that we can patently tell is faked; he must spend a lot of time in front of the mirror pretending to be surprised. He’s also slowly sliding his hands towards one of his waistcoat buttons; I’m guessing it’s one of those cheap “superspy” alarm buttons you can get at one of those “As Seen on TV” stores. “I’m sorry, I do—” Moon cuts him off. “Don’t bother pressing that button; it won’t send a signal and furthermore, I turned off the brains of all your guards in the building save for the one stationed behind the hidden door in your coat closet – him I’m letting listen in on purpose.” She then turns to the closet door and adds, “You can bring your gun if you’d like, for all the good that it’ll do you – which is none, for the record.” Paddy looks fit to be tied, but calls to the door, “Eamon, we’ve got guests, boyo!” The closet opens and a man who looks like he’s former military comes in. He’s dressed in a suit, but it looks as much a uniform as a police officer’s blues or camouflage. He then turns to Moon, and his eyes aren’t friendly anymore. “So, one of you finally decided to slip the leash and become a queen. Tell me, are you one of the Canadian ones, or just one we hadn’t registered?” Moon gets up from her seat and gives him a smile. “Oh, I don’t think you’re ready for that information, boyo.” She then turns to our new arrival and says, “Ditch the throwing spikes; you made them too obvious.” He looks at her oddly, then to his right shirt cuff, and there, just barely on the edge – meaning I wouldn’t have seen them if I hadn’t looked – is a trio of them. “How’d you—” he asks as he sets them down on Paddy’s desk. “You don’t have the chops to handle me,” she tells him, putting him in his place. “Have a seat next to your boss.” As he does, she looks at them both with a calm, even glance. “I’m going to say this one last time: Kathryn Nguyen is off your list. She is now, and will ever be, under my protection, and I give you my personal assurance that she will not change from a throwback to a queen. She has no interest in her current skills.” “Tell that to the man she injured in Chicago,” Paddy says, then grins with that look that wants to make me toss him out the nearest window. “Oh, I know all about you, Miss De Lune. She did it for you. Well, you know what? That’s all bloody nice that she cares for ye, but that’s just one step closer t’ having us to put her down. And believe me: I take no pleasure in that.” “That won’t happen,” Moon says coldly, and I can tell this guy should have made his funeral preparations. “Lassie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with here.” I’m going to enjoy every bit of what Moon’s going to do to him. “We operate a little above the law, because we have the safety of humanity at stake! And that’s more important than your bloody friendship with Miss Nguyen. So, I’m going to ask you to leave, and guess what? You’re on our watchlist too, Miss De Lune, especially after trying to pull this little stunt. I now own you, and you’d best—” Her eyes flare, and the rollercoaster ride’s ready to begin. “Nopony owns me,” she snarls… …and a second later, I’m glad I used the restroom just before we came up to Paddy’s office. Because, ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to announce that I am the first civilian on the moon. Though, as I see the other two void their bowels from utter shock, I realize I’m going to have to contest this claim. The two Irishmen are probably in dire need of Irish Spring right now and the looks of horror and fright on their faces fills me with a malicious little glee. A second later I see what they’re looking at, and I have to wonder if I should be joining them in terror. Standing there is not my Moon. Instead, a proud alicorn of dark blue stands there, her mane and tail the same color, but diaphanous and filled with stars. Her eyes are blue, and unlike Moon’s, more normal. Her cutie mark isn’t the purple and cyan I’ve been used to, but instead a straight black and white. And as I look at her, at once I see both an ageless being of countless millennia and a very petulant and angry teenager. I know why they fear her. This isn’t Moon – this is Princess Luna, and she is not happy by any stretch of the imagination. She unfurls her great wings, and though there is no sound in space, I can hear the ruffle of a thousand feathers all shouting in rage at the two men across from me. “FOOLISH MORTALS,” Luna snarls. “DOEST THOU KNOWEST THINE PERIL NOW?” The two seem to gather the presence of mind to nod, and “Luna” grins, but it’s a wolfish one, one the spider wears as it watches the fly come closer. “HEAR US NOW AND HARKEN OUR WORDS: THOU WILST LEAVE KATHRYN NGUYEN BE. SHE IS UNDER OUR AEGIS, AND WE WILL BE MUCH AGGRIEVED IF THIS IS NOT HEEDED. DOEST THOU KEN?” The two, neither one a fool, decide that fighting a lunar goddess is probably not good for their future career or life prospects, and agree to abide. “THEN BEGONE,” she intones, “AND HOPE THAT WE NEVER HEAR OF ANY MALFEASANCE FROM THOU OR THINE!” And a blink later, we’re back in the office, and…both men stink. Which is a given, considering they just used themselves as toilets. I reach in my pocket and pull out my digital recorder. “So, should we take a five minute refresher before we start the interview?” I ask with a wide grin. The drive home on the 405 is, as always, a mess – which is good, because it gives me time to talk to my sweetie. She’s been quieter than normal, and part of me wonders if it has to do with the Luna cosplay she did. For a moment, my subconscious thought it was real, so I can’t imagine how two humans with changeling ancestry who were raised on tales of “Luna the Changeling Slayer” had reacted to their own ancestral boogeyman – boogeymare? – showing up. Finally, as we pass the 105 interchange, she speaks. “North…am I a monster?” I glance at her and she’s looking at me with tears in her eyes. I reach out to her and caress her face. “No, never. You were only trying to protect Katie, trying to save the ones you love. There’s no shame in that.” “But I did it using fear, North! I didn’t try to assuage their guilt, I threatened them! They fear Luna, and with good reason! I have her memories of those times: she literally tore Queen Calyx apart in front of hundreds of changelings. I know why she did; she had a good reason to do so, else the changelings would have laid siege to the town of Baltimare, and their guards weren’t ready – it would have been a bloodbath. Furthermore, Calyx was an unbridled monster; I doubt you’d ever find a more ruthless and cunning monster than she. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that Luna – I – murdered a changeling queen in front of her subjects, and Katie and her family are all descended from those changelings…and I used that fear against them.” “But that’s not your fault,” I tell her. “You weren’t born then, and that’s Luna’s cross to bear. Furthermore, you said she did it to save her fellow ponies, and while I don’t know much about the military, I do know enough to know that hard choices like that are the norm, and they’re not meant to be pretty or easy decisions. The best that I can tell you is that you protected your friend today, and if that makes you a monster, then there’s no sense of right or wrong in the world.” She snuggles up against my shoulder. “What would I do without you, North?” “What would I do without you?” I reply back and I know that’s truer than anything else in this world. Without Moon, I’d still be a damaged and bitter man, forever pining over Rachel’s loss. Without Moon, I wouldn’t have some of the friends I do, or many of the changes in my life that have come about because of her. And I wouldn’t be very much in love with the most unique girl I’ve ever met – and given that I can now count a spy kid and a changeling queen amongst that number, I’m still sticking to that. A thought hits me, and I start moving the car towards the place I want to go. I think Moon’ll appreciate the change of scenery. A little later, we’re at the Point Vicente Lighthouse in Palos Verdes. My parents, separately, of course, used to come here for an amusement park that used to be here once; Marineland, if I recall correctly. But now it’s gone, replaced by ludicrously-priced houses, and some reminders of the old park at an interpretive center not too far away. As we sit here, with not a person around, watching the sun go down, with a basket of French bread, brie and some wine, she’s leaning on me again and I’m enjoying the sea breeze. Just little moments like this between me and the woman I love, reminding me why this world is a much better place than it used to be. “North?” I hear a voice call out. Shoulda known it was too good to be true. I turn, and there Katie is, with no sign of how she got here. I’m not going to ask how she knew we were here; now that I know what she is, questions like that really don’t faze me as much as they used to. Moon looks at her. “Fly or teleport?” She smiles. “Right – as if you think I’d willingly deal with traffic in SoCal if I could just bypass it and my stupid wings did more than just ‘look pretty’ or some shit? Actually, I parked on the other side of the lighthouse, so I wouldn’t disturb you.” The smile fell from her face as she said, “I just had a bunch of techs from the HIVE come over to my place and remove all the bugs. Said it was the chief’s orders. Did you have anything to do with it?” “You tell me, Queen,” Moon states enigmatically. “Moon, we went over this. I’m no queen. I don’t even want to be a throwback, much less a queen! I want to be a normal girl with a normal life and all that jazz. I have zero interest in commanding armies, sucking everyone’s emotions dry, or any of that other stuff.” Moon nods. “Have you ever seen a changeling queen? A true one?” “Only some drawings, and given how they were, I don’t expect them to b—what the fuck?!” Moon transforms again, and what I see before me makes me even queasy: an alicorn, as if designed by Kafka. The horn is bent and pockmarked; the legs are pitted, scarred and inexplicably have holes in them, as does the reddish-purple mane, tail and wings. The eyes are similar to Moon’s, but a very unfriendly blood red. The carapace is similarly colored, and the muddy brown chitin of the exoskeleton seems to be tailor-made for blending with the Earth. My mind immediately recalls Katie’s “throwback” form and suddenly the “holes and spots” motif she had going on made a hell of a lot more sense: closest I’d been able to figure previously was that changelings looked naturally like oversized ladybugs or something. “This is Queen Calyx,” Moon says in a voice that sounds nothing like hers. “She slaughtered hundreds of thousands of ponies, because she was intoxicated by – possibly even addicted to – the emotion of fear. She brought it upon my people, and she let it dictate her actions. We were forced to take her out before she wiped out the town of Baltimare. “Over all my years, I’ve never met a changeling I could trust, much less a changeling queen. But that’s changed,” she says as she returns to her normal form, walking over to embrace Katie. “You call yourself a throwback, Katie, but you don’t realize how wrong that is: you’re a queen, because you are as regal and noble as one. You risked yourself to protect me when you didn’t need to, and you never intended to inflict harm on North. So, stand proud, Queen Kathryn. The changelings of Earth once more have a queen they can be proud of.” “I…I don’t know what to say,” Katie commented, “other than thank you. Thank both of you. I can be free now because of you two.” “Hey,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. “Isn’t that what big brothers are for?” I can feel her sob into my chest, and as I look at Moon, she’s nodding in appreciation. Hey, sometimes I get things right.
INTERLUDE IView Onlinehe. she. we.INTERLUDE ISeated at her desk, Princess Celestia smiled, a melancholy movement of her mouth at the Pyrrhic victory she’d obtained: She’d been informed that Chrysalis and her heavily-decimated troops had been found on the edge of the badlands, wounded and starving and had surrendered quickly. The rogue queen was taken into custody by the Confederation of Changeling Queens, while her surviving changelings were split amongst the other queens. Additionally, those queens had immediately dispatched a bevy of diplomats to apologize on behalf of the Confederation and to give their most heartfelt apologies to Princess Cadance and her husband Prince Shining Armor. If they’d only corralled her sooner, Celestia sighed, rubbing her still-sore horn. The Confederation, a result of the last war between ponies and changelings, had for the most part kept the peace since its inception. Unfortunately, when the changeling tribes squabbled amongst themselves, they let monsters like Calyx or Chrysalis slip through their ranks. Which reminds me…. Celestia turned to her secretary, Raven. “When is the next scheduled meeting with the Confederation?” Raven fluttered through her appointment book, looking for it. “Queen Pollen has suggested one in two months. They plan Chrysalis’ trial at that time and have asked you to attend on behalf of the injured parties.” “Have a note dispatched to Pollen and tell her I will attend, but that I insist the trial must be fair, even for Chrysalis. Now, is there anything else that needs my attention?” “No, your highness,” the alabaster unicorn replied. “I was actually going to wrap up for the day myself. Have to finalize my new apartment, as well as order some new furniture for my place.” Celestia sighed at that; while most of Canterlot had survived the invasion, there were a number of homes and shops damaged or even destroyed; in Raven’s case, her apartment complex had been utterly demolished when one of the changelings had tried to emulate an Ursa Minor. Since then, she’d been staying in the castle while the rebuilding had gone on. “Raven, find whatever you like and have them send me the bill.” Raven’s eyes widened. “But Princess! I couldn’t! You’ve done more than enough for me!” Celestia smiled. “And you’ve done far more for me, dear Raven – I’d be buried in mounds of paperwork otherwise. Please, if you must, just consider it a reward for continued service.” “My thanks, my princess.” Raven bowed deeply in gratitude to her ruler before she added, “And now I must depart. Have a pleasant evening, your majesty.” “Have a wonderful day and I hope to see you tomorrow,” Celestia said, setting down her quill and papers. Now that her (nominally) long day was over, Celestia wondered what to do next. She could see if Twilight was available; her ever-faithful student was still in town for a couple of days, spending time with her parents. Likewise, she could get to know one of the other Bearers as well; if they had become her formerly-bookish protegée’s best friends, they would be good to know. And last but not least, was Spike, though he was likely with Twilight. A second later, her decision was made for her: one of the Lunar Guards, resplendent in his black-and-silver barding, knocked, then bowed. “Your highness, I have come on behalf of my nocturnal liegelady. She would like to see you at your first convenience.” “Is something wrong?” The even look from his face fell. “What happens when the Mistress of Dreams encounters Nightmares?” Celestia didn’t bother to respond, instead teleporting to her sister’s room. When she arrived, her younger sister was panting heavily, another of her guards tending to her needs with a glass of water. “Sister!” The moment Celestia appeared, Luna leapt out of bed and glomped the elder alicorn. Celestia wrapped both forelegs and wings around her sister, and with a look, the guard departed. The two held each other for a while, the only sound in the room being that of the older sibling’s soothing words, and the younger’s sobbing. After a few minutes, Celestia finally broke the embrace to look at Luna. “Do you want to talk about it?” Luna nodded. “She still lives, sister – the Nightmare still lives!” “But didn’t Twiligh—” “I had thought so too, until this night. I felt the stirrings of it awakening once more. I don’t know where – it was too weak for me to obtain a location. But it still lives, and so long as it does, I’ll never be safe!” “I will never let it harm you again,” Celestia vowed, looking straight into her sister’s terror-stricken eyes. “Nor would anyone else: You are Equestria’s beloved Princess of the Night and the world will unite against it to shield you.” The sun alicorn reached down with an unshod hoof, wiping the tears from her sister’s eyes. “You need never be afraid of that monstrosity ever again.” “My thanks,” she said, sighing in contentment. “But I fear that I am no longer the initial target.” “What do you mean?” Despite her calm, the look in Luna’s eyes was one of worry: “I believe the Nightmare to be searching for a new host. What will happen if it finds one?” Author's Note Just a short little thing to let you know that we're still moving on, slowly but surely.
twelve. she. unwanted.View Onlinehe. she. we.twelve. she. unwanted.I settle into my seat on the plane, waiting for take off. Sure, it’s a waste of time for me, but it wouldn’t be for Selene De Lune, and since I am her, I do need to keep a paper trail of my life. In a few minutes, this hunk of aluminum and electronics will lift off the ground and from there, a nice couple of hours flight down south to John Wayne International, just a hop skip and a jump from my home. Still, it was fun being in Seattle this past week, even if I was by myself for a change. It’s not that I wanted to go alone, but North had to attend the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona – lucky him! – for Technon, and I was asked by Assault Gear – “Our Gaming Gear is Made for War!” – to see if I’d be interested in endorsing their Assassin II line of peripherals. I admit, the paycheck’s nice, and with some birthdays coming up, I think I could use the coin to get some stuff for people, though I’m going to have to ask North for some help on Carrie’s gift; she’s a bit of a cypher still. Anyways, while I was chatting with some of the Assault Gear execs – they do make a nice controller based on the PS4’s layout – I also got to meet the team captain of the Gunbunnies, a team that specializes in shooters. Frankie Estevez, or to use her SN, Fr4tGrrl, tried to immediately recruit me, but I told her I was happy where I was, given that the Vixens could use a bit more seasoning before any of us “old guard” retire. We also discussed how more and more teams are specializing, instead of being all-around generalists like I am; while I’d like to keep the Vixens as a generalist team, I know that won’t stay that way. She agreed with me on that, and it’s always nice to be told, even in a roundabout way, that you’re at the top of your game. I’m almost going to hate beating her when Pacific War starts. During our chat, though, she did comment that she was surprised at my age. Still can’t believe that at twenty-five (or what I’m supposed to be), I’m considered an aging player, which is weird when I still see that the men’s and mixed brackets have guys that are in their thirties and forties still competing. I realize that the time of a cyberathlete isn’t a long one, but personally I’m planning to stick around for as long as I can. Still, I guess that’s just the norm for society as it sees it, and that’s just human nature. But I have to admit, ponies aren’t much better at that, I’m guessing: while I recall my era in Equestria venerating the old and wise, I kinda get the feeling that wasn’t the case during my very brief second stay. Regardless, even with some interesting meetings with the Assault Gear folks and spending some time chatting with Frankie, it’s been a boring few days here otherwise and I miss my boyfriend, so I’m glad I’m on the way home. If I remember correctly, he’ll be in Europe for a couple more days, so that’ll give me more than enough time to come up with a few sweet things for my guy. A few hours later, and I’m happily pulling up to the home… …Except there’s a very gaudy magenta Camaro sitting in the driveway, parked in the exact middle, as though it owns the place. I pull up to the sidewalk, and I notice by the front door, there are several of my things. What the fuck? I get out of the car, and walk into my home, and what I see I don’t like. Someone has broken in, but…well, I’ve watched more than enough movies and TV during my time here on Earth and I have yet to figure of any thief who lays down plastic matting on couches, or leaves small jars of what looks like chocolate and other jams…. Wait...chocolate and other stuff? I pick up one of them, looking at the label: Karma Sutra’s Edible Raspberry Chocolate Body Paint. The back cheerfully informs that it gives off a tingling sensation when applied and doubles as it’s licked off. Who wou…Oh, no. And sure enough, a second later, coming out of my bedroom is her. Goddamn, North was right; she does look like a streetwalker. She’s got a body that I’d be mildly jealous about if I had been born human, slightly tan skin, green eyes, and blonde hair done in a style that’s over the side of the head and frizzed. She reminds me of an anime character I once saw while watching a marathon over at Pumpkin’s place, but that girl was a cop and this girl is clearly a living sperm container. She’s holding a pair of my jeans, still not noticing that I’m here and mutters, “That man of mine – seriously! This is just ugly! And I’m not fat!” Okay, that’s enough insults for one day, strumpet. “I’m not fat either,” I tell her. She turns and looks at me for a second in shock, but that’s soon gone. “Who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” she asks. “No, this is my house,” I tell her, “and you have five seconds to tell me what the hell you’re doing here!” “I told you,” she snarls at me. “This is my house – well, technically my boyfriend’s house – and you have no business here!” “Oh, really?” I ask, crossing my arms. Part of me just wants to go ‘horn and wings’ and scare the hell out of her, but I promised North that if we ever got into this situation that I’d let human authorities handle this. “Then who are you and who is your boyfriend?” She throws my clothing on the floor – does she know how much I paid for those? – and crows, “This is the home of my boyfriend, North Shores! And my name is Destiny Ranson! And your name is ‘Get the fuck out of my house now, or else’!” Too bad for her I’m not stupid. Instead, I calmly walk over to her; she takes a step back as if she’s expecting something. I then bend down and look at the bottom of the breakfast bar by the kitchen, pull away the fake panel and expose the safe. Punching in the digital code, I open it and produce the house title. “Read,” I tell her and add, “then after that, you’re going to pick up all my clothes, put them in the laundry bin, and then you have four seconds to get out of my house before I call the cops.” She looks it over, especially the part where the house is co-owned by North Shores and Selene De Lune. “This…this is clearly fake!” she tells me. “Yes, because I just happened to know where North and I stored our safe, and just happened to know what the code that I punched in was, and just happened to have the title printed up by the title company when we bought the house,” I droll, giving her the stupid treatment. What did she study in college, underwater basketweaving? And “Destiny Ranson”? That sounds like a stripper name, for crying out loud! “SHUT UP!” she roars at me, the look in her eyes growing enraged. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE AND OUT OF MY BOYFRIEND’S LIFE, YOU CUNT!” A second later, a very awkward cavalry arrives: Carrie rushes into the house, calling out, “Moon! Moon, I…oh, shit.” She looks at Destiny and says, “You’re not supposed to be here; how did y—” Destiny looks at Carrie as though she’s a lifeline. “Carrie! Please, help me get this wannabe homewrecker out of mine and your brother’s house!” Carrie, however, stood firm. “Destiny…how did you find out about this place? And I told you, North doesn’t want to see you anymore. He’s been dating Moon for about a year now, and they’re…well, look, it didn’t work out between you and my brother, but that doesn’t mea—” There was something about the look in that girl’s eyes that changed right at that moment, and I didn’t like it. Putting myself between Carrie and Destiny, I said, “Look, out of respect for…whatever…you and my boyfriend had—” “Which was one date and nothing else,” I hear Carrie whisper behind me. “—then so long as you leave peacefully, I won’t press charges,” I tell her. “But if you make things difficult, so help me, I’ll—” “I’m not going to sit here and listen to a fat pig like you!” Destiny snarls. “Not when North wants – and deserves – a girl with real looks!” She then turned her rage on to Carrie. “And you! How could you betray your brother with…with – this slut?” Carrie looked at her angrily; I suppose I should be glad that she has that much confidence in me since I’ve started dating her brother, especially since we don’t know each other that well. “Shut up! You only went on one date with him, and North told me how creepy he thought you were! Frankly, I’m embarrassed that I even fixed you two up, given that had I known what kind of a freakball you are, I would never have done that to him!” She then pointed at me and added, “Moon here, she’s a normal member of the human race, something you’re not!” That last statement I’d probably find incredibly ironic and laughable were the situation not so tense. Destiny then did what any normal psychopath would do in this situation: she ran over to the kitchen and grabbed one of the knives from the butcher block. Normally this would be the part where I would go alicorn and introduce this little twit to lunar regolith, but I’ve got Carrie behind me to protect and a big secret to keep that way, so…. Moving as fast as I can – that is, as fast as a girl like me should – I reach into the safe and pull out one of North’s pistols. I’ve never used a gun in real life, but you’d be amazed what you can do as a gamer, especially one backed up with earth pony strength. I hope I won’t have to fire this, but if I do, I know I can reasonably shoot to wound the lunatic with the santoku. “Put down the knife and get out,” I order her. Part of me is tempted to use the Royal Everfree Voice, but then there’s all that glass that would need to be replaced, and who knows what damage it would do to Carrie’s hearing, being so close. Hell, I don’t even know if the gun is loaded, and if not, given the situation, that would give Destiny just enough of an advantage until I had to expose my secret to protect Carrie. She takes a step. I aim the gun. She pauses. I pause. She sets down the knife and glares at me. “I don’t know what blackmail you’ve got against Carrie that would turn her against me, but let’s get something clear, bitch – don’t sleep easy at night. This is far from over.” I follow her path with the gun as she storms out, and it’s not until we hear the squeal of tires that Carrie and I collapse in a puddle of relief: Her, because the danger’s over, and me, because my secret is safe. We hold each other while Carrie shudders from adrenaline shock and I try comforting her. As I try soothing her, I reach out with my mind to North to tell him what’s going on, but either I’m emotionally drained right now or it’s too far – the latter shouldn’t really be possible, but anything’s a given right now. Besides, I know someone who I can reach at the moment. «Katie, I could use a little help here!» «Moon? Where are you?» Her “voice” is reverbing, which means she’s speaking as well as thinking. Well, she isn’t really used to the full range of changeling magic she has, so…. «Mental telepathy,» I explain. «Wow, you can do that? Cool!» «Well, so can you – you should have enough power to.» «Moon, in case you forgot, I didn’t become a full-fledged queen until you decided I was one and pissed off HIVE. Even if there was a book on how to use anything other than shapeshifting and emotion vampirism, they sure as hell aren’t going to let me have a copy.» «Fine, I’ll train you when I get a chance. That’s not important right now anyway. The point is, when can you get to my place?» «With current traffic, about thirty minutes or so, why?» I quickly explain to her what happened, and I can practically feel the panic in her mind. «If that’s the problem, you’d better get a hold of our resident gun nut. You contact her and I’ll swing by and pick her up.» «Good idea, thanks. See you in a few.» With that settled, I reach out for Pumpkin. An hour, one police visit, and arrivals by Katie and Pumpkin later, and things are relatively back to normal. Relatively. “Pumpkin? Would you please put that down? You’re scaring me.” Even though the guns don’t bother me, hearing Carrie tell that to Pumpkin…well, she does have a point: I was expecting Pumpkin to just bring over her pistol and call it that. I had no idea she had an actual AK-12 – and where she got one? I probably don’t want to know. Pumpkin looks at Carrie and tells her, “Relax. It might look like an AK-12 – state-of-the-art Russian army weapon – but it’s just a gift from a Russian fan who was watching a tournament I was in a couple years ago. It’s a prop gun; believe me, I’ve had to prove it more than once.” “So if it’s just a prop, why’d you bring it?” Katie asks her. “Well, if you saw how Carrie reacted to it, how’s Destiny going to react?” Pumpkin said with a smile. “Believe me, she’ll lose her shit. Besides, I have a real pistol or two just in case, and North’s is still in his safe, right?” “Actually,” I tell her, “I’m wearing it underneath this shirt, right where I can reach it.” “Don’t you think you two are overdoing it?” Carrie asks both me and Pumpkin. “Sitting around with guns is something that I expect from my brother and his friends, not…well, not you and your friends, Moon.” “Would you believe it’s more fun this way?” I ask her. “No.” “Well, you got me. The fact is, this girl’s a full-on whackjob that thinks she’s dating – has always dated – your brother and when we tried to correct her, the first thing that came to mind was killing us. Granted, I’m just a helpless young woman—” I’m so glad that Carrie didn’t see Katie and Pumpkin’s perfectly synchronized eye-rolling right at that moment, “—and my man isn’t expected to be home for another few days, so I have to do what I need to do to protect my chastity and my fidelity.” I hear Katie giggle. “This from the woman who we went shopping with in Frederick’s of Hollywood just before you left for Seattle,” she cackles, and though I’m not looking in her direction, I wouldn’t be surprised if Pumpkin’s nodding in step. Ah, my friends – what would I do without them? Well, aside from not being embarrassed in front of my boyfriend’s sister, that is…. The girls offer to stay the night, and for that I’m grateful. I get to bond with Carrie over Monopoly and she admits to me that I’m much better for North than Destiny ever was, and that she knows I’ll never replace Rachel, but that North loves me intensely. I tell her in turn that I never want to interfere with the feelings he has for his late wife; indeed, I wish I’d had the chance to get to know her. Katie interjects that I would have likely made great friends with Rachel and it makes me wonder about that. What would a woman, long since gone, think about me dating her husband? Sure, I don’t doubt that Rachel would have wanted North to be happy and find love with another woman...but if we have to get technical, I’m merely a female, a mare, not really a woman. I guess Katie picked up on it, because after everyone fell asleep, she told me that what little she remembered of Rachel, she was very much in the same vein as I am, and that I shouldn’t worry about it. I was going to ask her how she knew, given that I already figured it out, but she said that I radiated enough worry that she said even a normal person would’ve picked up on it, and from what she could feel, she knew that Carrie and Pumpkin did. I promised to talk to them in the morning about my concerns, but Katie commented that they’ll likely come to me separately sometime this weekend. Too bad that didn’t really happen, as we had some serious issues the following morning: When Pumpkin offered to go out and grab some groceries for me, we found out that the tires on her car had been slashed. A second check showed that Katie’s had been slashed as well, as were Carrie’s. But my car had fared the worst: the tires had been slashed, the car itself had been keyed, and the gas tank cover was open, meaning that something had likely been poured into it. But the worst of all was what was smeared all over the windows and door handles, and by the stench of it, it was fairly fresh, only a couple of hours old, at most. Apparently I must have hinted at something unintentionally, because Pumpkin pulled me aside and insisted that I let the police look into it rather than, as she put it, “go horns and hooves and hit her hard enough to send her relatives back to the Stone Age.” While I chuckled at that, it was a compelling idea. Still, I don’t think I have enough power to exile her to the Moon, much less the distant past, and besides, if Luna – meaning the satellite above – is anything like the one I spent a millennium on, I wouldn’t want to sully it, thankyouverymuch. A quick call to the police, and given what happened the day before, they responded pretty quickly. We explained everything, and they said they’d look into it. Meanwhile, I had my friends’ cars towed to the local auto shop while I paid for new tires for them – they all protested, but I insisted – and afterwards they went with me to the car rental place while I plopped down some money on a rental, since my wheels were going to be in the shop for at least a couple of weeks. What worried me was that they pointed out that whoever did it poured water into the gasoline tank instead of sand or sugar; while the latter two might gunk up a car, the former definitely would and that meant the perpetrator meant business. Oh, and then to add insult to injury, a detective called me and reported that Destiny had an alibi...and oh did she have an alibi. Turns out my earlier comment that she’s practically stripperific? Well, surprise surprise, guess what she does for a living! I was advised that I should stay away from Sweet Sighs Gentlemen’s Club in Alhambra while they look into it. I try not to remember that name, but I know it’s going to stick in my head. I also try not to remember that Sweet Sighs sounds like the name of a mare of the night back where I come from, but at least I can ignore that, because that’ll be harder to explain. Fortunately, I do have a way of getting my point to leave me the fuck alone across…. It’s three in the morning and I’m sure all the others are asleep when I get into a yoga position. Granted, I can do magic in any form, but for some reason, it just feels natural for me to use this position to dreamwalk while I’m in my human form. Obviously I can’t do it in my native form, but then I really don’t need to. So, just as I’m focusing, I hear a gentle knock on my door and before I can even say anything I see Katie come in. “Thought you could use some company,” was all she said. “You knew, didn’t you?” I ask her; in turn, she nods. “You’re radiating magic strong enough for it to wake me up; when that happened, I felt your anger – believe me, that’s giving me a stomach ache right now – and thought you could use a friend.” She sat down on the bed and said, “So, please, calm down, unless you want me throwing up.” My lips curled naturally into a smirk, though it wasn’t meant in ill-temper. “I’m sorry, Katie,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to make you sick.” “I know. Most of the time I can ignore stuff like that, but your feelings are exceptionally strong this time around, and that means that your situation is more important than my discomfort.” She reached over and took my hand in hers. “You know, Luna, sometimes I really hate you.” That confused me. “But I’m not—” “Yes, you are. You’re probably the other side of her coin, Moon. Who says that you’re not the one that’s whole, and back in Equestria that moon princess is just wondering what she is and how she fits in that world. You, on the other hand, have adjusted to this world in the year and a half you’ve been here. I know this sounds silly, but if you ask me, you’re much more deserving of the title of princess than that other Luna will ever be.” I can’t help but blush. “Thanks,” I tell her. “There, stomach ache done,” she said with a wink. “And now with that done, you want to talk?” “I was just about to reach into Destiny’s mind and shake it a few times. I figure that should get the point across.” “But isn’t that what Nightmare Moon would do?” Katie asked. “You’ve said dozens of times that you’ve given up that part of yourself, and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we wouldn’t want to see it back. I wouldn’t want to see you do that to yourself just over this idiot – she’s not worth it, Moon. She’s not worth being the person you were.” I think about it. I gave up being Nightmare Moon, because in the end, it wasn’t me. I just wanted to be Moon. I look at my hands and imagine my ebon-colored hooves; I shudder at the fact that Luna/she/we/I put blood on them once, taking millions of lives; it also happened before, with Katie’s ancestors. I close my eyes and turn away. My hooves were bloodstained once; I can never let my hands become that way as well. Katie senses a reaction in me, and smiles. “Feel better now?” “Not really, but I get your point. I love North too much to have him see me go down that path again – that way lies...well, I’m sure that white-winged bitch is there.” I give her a smile and add, “Thanks, Katie. Really.” “Good; my job is done,” she replies to me. “By the way, you owe me breakfast.” I give her a hug, sending all my appreciation and love into it, hoping that’ll suffice. “Better?” “Yeah, but...I meant real breakfast. There’s this nice place that just opened at Shoreline Village in Long Beach.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Deal.” The moment his plane landed at LAX, I could feel his presence and I admit, I practically melted in relief. I had to restrain myself from teleporting to the airport, mainly because the house needed cleaning – I am soooo glad nobody found any of my feathers; that would’ve been hell to explain – and I needed to look over some paperwork that arrived this morning from Assault Gear via FedEx. That lasted all of two seconds. Then I did the laundry; using the machines, that took another hour. At this point I was going to go outside and start working on the gardening when I heard his car pull up, and it took me just about every bit of focus in my body to sit myself on the sofa. I could feel my tail wagging like it’s having its own seizure, but I am only pony, after all. I wait long enough for him to get into the house before I jump into his arms and kiss him, my lips against his, muzzle mashing into his nose. “You know I missed you,” I tell him. He holds me tight and I practically want to purr! “You’ve no idea how much I missed you, love,” he tells me, and I want to glow. “It’s been a rough week, both on the reporting part and the personal part. There was this girl from New Zealand, a reporter, who spent all week trying to put the moves on me. I swear, I told her I was in a relationship, but she just wasn’t listening. By Wednesday I actually had to move hotels, would you believe?” I snicker. “Well, too bad for her – I’m keeping you.” I levitate his bags, and say, “C’mon, we have some catching up to do.” With that I prance – yes, I admit it, I pranced – right into the bedroom. “You coming?” I ask, flicking my tail up. Yes, I am a tease. “Shouldn’t I lock the car, or...wait, where is your car?” he asks. I pout at him. “North, I strongly suggest you come screw your marefriend before she gets angry and then you have to deal with angry sex.” Okay, I admit it. I like my beau – what’s wrong with that? “The things I do for you,” he says with a smile and follows me into the bedroom. Hours later, we’re both sitting at the table having dinner. I had to magic up a veggie lasagna because I’m feeling comfortable in my normal form at the moment and we were a little too busy doing other things to have time to cook or whatever. However, over dinner I tell him about everything, both the good and the bad. He looks at me with concern, holding his fork as if it’s a trident of protection. “I can’t say that I’m entirely surprised, but if the cops said she has a good alibi, then maybe she does. Did they suggest any other options?” “Not really, but Katie said she’ll ask the HIVE if they’ll look into it. I’m sure they’ll want to stay on my good side, so I get my own army of private investigators, for free.” “Well, if it gets any worse, we’ll file a restraining order. Hope it won’t come to that, but we’ll see,” he tells me and again I want to just melt into his arms. Have I mentioned how lucky a mare I am that I have him? The next few days go by smoothly. The auto shop gets my car fixed far faster than they estimated, so I pick it up. North gets his articles in on time and he and Cherry start talking about a European subsidiary; that’s still a ways away, though. I take the girls out to breakfast – along with Tae; can’t let her feel left out, either – as thanks for helping me to deal with the issue with Destiny. As for that bitch, it seems like she got the message and the police tell me that from what they can tell, she’s either playing the long game or she’s given up. The latter I can deal with; the former I will deal with. As for now, I’m just relaxing, having breakfast with my friends, when my phone rings. “Yes, this is Selene De Lune,” I answer. “Ah, pleasant morning t’ ye, yer highness,” I hear in an Irish brogue, and I fight the instincts to reach through the phone and strangle its owner. I have to remind myself that Dr. Molloy and I made an agreement ensuring Katie’s safety and right to be who she is. But Katie just asked for a favor for me and while ponies are always glad to lend a hoof, with humans – and changelings – there’s occasionally a string attached. And knowing Paddy Molloy, there’s definitely one. “Oh, hello, Dr. Molloy,” I calmly say into my phone. Pumpkin and Katie look up briefly, but so as to not rock the boat, flash each other a brief glance and go back to their meals. “This is an unexpected call.” “Aye, yes, that’d it be, your highness. But I had a request from one of our...how shall we say? Clients? Yes, that should work as a term. Anyway, I had a request from one of our clients that we look into a problem for ye, Princess. But if you don’t mind, I’d like you t’ come by the office this afternoon to discuss it.” “Sorry, too busy today,” I tell him. “But if you can free your schedule for tomorrow I’m available all day. In fact, why don’t we meet over breakfast?” “That’d be too kind, Princess. Would nine in the morning suffice? There’s this lovely pub down by our office that serves the best full Irish in America. Would that work?” “That’s fine, Doctor. See you tomorrow.” We say our goodbyes, and then I spin to Carrie and Tae something about a request by the Hampstead Institute for me to give some lectures in some local schools why STEM classes are important for alternative careers like videogame pros and the like. But for every word that comes out of my mouth, every bit of the lie, I’m hating myself for telling people who are my boyfriend’s family. At least my friends know I’m lying through my teeth, not that it’s any better. There are times when I really hate being me.
thirteen. he. trádáil chothrom.View Onlinehe. she. we.thirteen. he. trádáil chothrom.thirteen. he. trádáil chothrom. We pull up in front of the restaurant just off the corner of Wilshire and 6th. As I get out of the car, I can’t help but notice the sign, a wooden-looking pub sign with goldleaf, ornate painting and uncial lettering that said something in Irish that I can’t read. “Trádáil Chothrom,” I hear Moon say. “Irish for ‘A Fair Trade’.” “When did you learn Irish?” I asked her. “I didn’t.” She holds up her phone. “Googled it while you were parking.” As we look at the faux-Tudor façade of the restaurant, she asks me, “Can we take a vacation to Ireland some day? I was looking at some pictures on the way and it reminds me a lot of the Everfree plains.” She sighs and adds, “They’re...they’re gone now. There’s some obscenely huge forest where the plains used to be, and….” I can feel her sorrow from here; it’s clearly something that happened during her time tied to Luna and the grief is still haunting her. I reach out and lift her chin, so her eyes are level with mine. “Anything for you, beautiful, you know that.” “I love you,” she says to me, and I know that – I can feel every iota of those words, that emotion, all very much intended for me. Whether alicorn or human, this bright life, this person named Moon loves me and I am a blessed man for that. And with that, I open the door and we go in. It’s not what I expected at all. Just before I met Moon, I attended an award show for LA-based tech journalists. It was at an authentic Irish pub, and by authentic, I guess they meant enough kelly green to give someone color blindness, waiters with horrible accents, a bar that only served Guinness and Killians, and an off-brand stereo system that played nothing but The Pogues, U2, The Cranberries and Sinéad O'Connor, maybe Enya and Clannad during the holidays. That is not what we stepped into. Instead, we walked into a posh restaurant and bar that looked like it should have been over in Malibu or closer to the shore. David Bowie’s “Bring Me the Disco King,” a jazz-inflected track, played on the well-hidden audio system. A quick glance at the bar showed Guinness and Killians, but also stuff like Samuel Adams and a dozen other things. The bartender, a cutie with short black hair and green eyes, flashed us a smile before wordlessly going back to her job. “Your highness, Lord Shores, if you’ll follow me please.” I turned to see Molloy’s errand boy, Eamon, standing there looking contrite and subdued. Was he afraid that Moon was going to bite his head off? While that would be a sight to see, I’m very sure cannibalism isn’t one of Moon’s quirks, so we follow him over to a place where Paddy is sitting down, poring over some documents. “Ah, your highness and Lord Shores, top of the morning t’ ye both,” he says, a wide smile on his face that makes it clear he’s up to something. Moon doesn’t give him a chance as she sits down into her seat. “Let’s just dispense with the bullshit and get started, okay?” The woman from earlier sets down coffee before us, then platters of English breakfast – or Irish breakfast, given the décor. She then kisses Paddy on the cheek, gives us another smile and walks off. “You’ll have to excuse her,” he tells us and surprisingly, his voice is soft. “M’ wee sister, Aileen. She would’ve been a throwback herself, but she burned out all her power when she was but a wee babe, and unfortunately it took her ability t’ speak, too.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Moon tells him; frankly, I am too. Regardless of whether her brother’s a scum-sucking dirtbag, that’s not Aileen’s fault. Besides, she’s cute and my type. «I thought I was your type?» I hear Moon say over our telepathic link and I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. I know she’s doing it just to tease me, but that’s no reason why I shouldn’t let her know how much I love her. “Would you like me to see if there’s anything I can do for her?” Moon offers, but Molloy shakes his head. “I dunna what can be done after so long,” he says. “B’sides, she’s happy and so long’s she’s happy, I’m fine with that, ye ken?” He then looks in the direction where we came from and said, “Ah, an’ here’s the last o’ our coffee klatch, as ye Americans say.” Moon and I turn to see a woman coming towards us. She’s dressed in a suit like Eamon, and like Eamon, it’s clear that it’s more a uniform than anything else. Her muscles seem to ripple on it, and her long blonde hair trails behind her like a banner. Her blue eyes are piercing and I swear if I wasn’t tied to Moon, I’d be asking for her phone number. Just in case, I give Moon’s hand an extra squeeze, and she just gives me that look out of the corner of her eyes. Ah the bane of being a faithful guy in a relationship: you can window shop, but you can’t test out the merchandise. The mystery woman sits down at the table, waving to Aileen as the latter brings her a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Without looking at us, she says, “My name’s Arturia. You can call me just that – no Artie, Arts, Turi or whatever. Also, if you make a single Fate Stay/night joke or whatever, I’ll rip your fucking balls off.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I leave it be. Molloy chuckles and says, “Arturia’s one of our American-born employees. Handles security. Also, one of the few with the natural talent we register.” Arturia looks at him and says, “Not your fucking dog and pony show, Molloy.” “Ah, but you’re one of us, lass. Plus, may I remind you who signs your paycheck?” She grunts, then sighs. As we look at her, she becomes a black woman, then a young Japanese schoolgirl complete with uniform, then a redhead in a stunning cocktail dress, then an old woman in a baggy cardigan, than a fat, homeless woman in tattered threadbare clothing. “Woof fucking woof,” she says as she makes her final change, into that of Moon. “That’s enough,” Moon says firmly to Arturia. “No shit.” Arturia changes back to herself, and rubs her head. “That shit takes a lot out of me.” She flags Aileen and points at her food before she goes back to eating, but now chowing down like she’s starving. Molloy, unperturbed, looks at us and says, “She comes t’ us by way of the FBI.” “Mphf,” she says, talking with her mouth full. She swallows quick and says, “Okay, here’s the deal: I’m your new executive assistant-slash-bodyguard and the HIVE is picking up the bill. Given that I’m assigned to you permanently, I’ll be available at your beck and call, but let’s get a few things straight: one, I won’t answer my phone while I’m trying to sleep. Two, I eat a lot when I shapeshift, because I’m no throwback and don’t have the ability. Three, I’m your assistant, not your concubine, so don’t expect me to fuck either of you or both, that’s not my job. Or,” she says with a hint of a smile, “at least buy me a couple of drinks first. Oh, and lastly, if I do sleep with you, no preggers. I like keeping my body as is, got that?” Moon looks at Molloy and says, “Assigning or dumping?” The man shrugs. “Either or,” he drawls, and that’s as much of an admission as anything. Arturia reaches into her jacket and pulls out a dossier; the way she does it makes it clear that she used to be a Fed, I guess. “Grabbed the file this morning: Eugenia Ranson—” “Eugenia?” Moon says, her voice on the clear verge of laughing; a second later, she does, and I have to admit, I’m near it myself. “Eugenia? The bitch going after my guy is named Eugenia?” “Yes, and the female variant of Arthur is usually Altria, not Arturia,” our new bodyguard says, a hint of offense in her tone. “Anyways, Eugenia Mildred Ranson, born in Inwood, West Virginia, goes by Destiny Ranson, lives in Pico Rivera. Has a female roommate that she’s rumored to be sleeping with, or so say the folks in her apartment complex. Works as a mid-level stripper in Whittier at a Gentleman’s Club that the local police suspect is also a nexus for prostitution. Has a boa constrictor named Steely Dan. Also has one of the few revolving credit accounts at Desyre, an adult novelty store off Whittier Boulevard in Pico Rivera. Not surprisingly, the owner of the store is her roommate.” She finished off her plate, then thanked Aileen before starting into the second one. “Oh and before you ask how I know all this shit? He asked me to do some digging,” she said, pointing her fork at Molloy. “I said I knew all about you two,” Molloy admits, though he doesn’t seem to have the same bravado as when he said it just before Moon made him void his bowels. “Okay, so what’s the price of all this?” Moon asks him, but I interject. “Okay, Molloy, don’t give us the bullshit you’ve already got in your head. You don’t give up an asset like Arturia here just for nothing; I’ve known and interviewed more than enough people in law enforcement and military intelligence to know she’s worth her weight in whatever six-figure salary you’re giving her just to leave the FBI. So, while Moon may be relying on her royal charm to be coy about it, I’m just some dumb ‘Murican, so just cut your gut open and spill whatever the fuck it is before it gets to the filter.” Arturia claps. “Maybe I might change my mind on the pregnancy thing.” “You,” Moon snaps, “shut up, now.” She then turns to Molloy and says, “I am done playing games, Molloy. What do you want?” He sighed, something I expected, followed something I didn’t – the truth. “From our secret getting out before people get killed. Arturia?” She fishes out a second folder and says, “There’s a movie production going on in Guleph, Ontario; horror production if I understand correctly. There was a mysterious murder in the town, person was grayed out. Since we all know what that means, one of the actors involved in the production immediately called our branch office in Toronto – she’s a throwback and she didn’t want to be accused of a crime she didn’t commit, she says. We need someone with the skills to get in there and investigate, but with the power to stop an all-out queen without bringing everything down on us.” “Sorry, I don’t do X-Files,” she tells them. I’m wondering if it was a good idea to tell her about that. “Look, Princess Luna,” Arturia tells her, “I’m not going to give you the same line of bullshit I’d give Molloy here. We need your help, because if the locals turn it over to the Mounties? Well, they probably have an X-Files unit as well – oh, and the unit is real by the way; the TV show’s just bullshit. Anyway, if they uncover the reason for her outstanding acting ability, then things will turn into a real X-Files shitfest and the Bureau and anyone else will be crawling up yours, mine, and everyone you know’s collective asses. That’s not a threat, Princess – that’s the truth. I know you were responsible for the first real queen we’ve had in centuries and I know that she’s like a sister to you, Mr. Shores. Do you really want to see her hurt because you ‘don’t do X-Files’?” “No, I’ll do it,” she says, and I feel her reach over and squeeze my hand. “And what will you do in return?” To my annoyance – yes, it’s annoying me, I don’t know why – she changes into Moon and gets out of her chair. Leaning against me, she says in Moon’s voice, “Well, my boyfriend and I are going to go home and live our normal lives. In between that, I’ll see what I can dig up on Destiny. Meanwhile, you get to peek and poke around the most rural of Can-Can land and see if you can catch us a killer.” Moon sighs. “I don’t like this plan, I really don’t.” “Princess, think of this as like the meaning of the pub: it’s a fair trade. You do this for the HIVE and you get my services permanently.” She smiles and leans against me in a manner that’s making me very uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him warm for you.” Her eyes turn a solid white and I know Moon has had her limit. “Unhand him now,” she says in a voice that’s reverberating, “or plan to enjoy thine new home atop the moon, does thou ken?” To my surprise, she gets off me and changes back to her normal self as she goes back to her food. “Jealous type,” she says with a smile. “I like that. Makes it a challenge.” Did I mention I really hate this idea? We finally leave the pub and...well, I’m walking. Moon’s stomping out. “That bitch,” she seethes. “Moon, I—” I begin, but I know I’m not even going to finish the phrase, much less the sentence. Not surprising me, Moon glomps me and holds me close. What does surprise me is that I can feel her shaking as I wrap my arms around her. “Just don’t,” she says. “Just hold me and tell me you love me.” “You know I do, Moon,” I tell her. She looks at me and I said, “What’s wrong?” “Her voice, and her thoughts,” Moon says, and I can see the wetness in her eyes. “She was broadcasting her thoughts: she’s very attracted to you, and everything she said was a joke right up until the sex comments. But it wasn’t just that. It was her voice, that damn voice….” “What about her voice?” “I’m sorry. I just felt her thoughts and heard her voice and well….” She wipes her eyes and says, “I know it’s silly, but it felt like Celestia was here herself to take you away from me.” “What? No. Look, she’s cute, yeah...but you’re my girl, Moon, not her. I love you, and we have been together a year now, or half again that if you want to talk when we were just roommates.” “Magical orange juice and all?” she says with a soft smile and it makes my world light up brighter than the 10 AM sun above us right now. “Even if you want a mirror custom made for Lord Samsung,” I say and she chuckles. We hear a clap behind us. We turn around to see Arturia standing there, no longer dressed in a business outfit, but a tan camisole and brown skirt. I’d say it looks cute on her, but I really don’t want to rock the boat like that. “You two look great together, you know that?” she tells us, and I can already feel Moon scowl and want to rip her head off. “Look,” she says, “I’m sorry. I came on a little too hard and...well, people say I’m an asshole with a horrible sense of humor. Plus, even if he’s my boss, I fucking hate Molloy, and his errand boy O’Hogan’s no better. If it wasn’t for Aileen, I’d quit this job, even with what they’re paying me. But...she’s my best friend since we met in college; did a year studying in Ireland and that’s how we met.” She chuckled and added, “Wanted to see my family roots, both Irish and, well, you know. Look, let’s start over.” She offered her hand and said, “I’m Celestia Arturia Moynihan, but I prefer it if you just called me Arturia, because frankly, I hate my first name and my middle name’s only marginally better.” Moon took her hand and shook. “Believe me, I’d prefer to call you that as well. I...have problems with your first name, no offense.” “I understand, Princess. My grandmother used to tell me the stories, even if my parents didn’t really believe them.” She then turned to me and offered her hand as well. “Look, the Princess already picked up on it, so I’ll admit it: yes, I think you’re hot and if you were single, you wouldn’t have left without my phone number and email. But really, I’m not that kind of woman and even if I was, I suspect I’d come in distant second against the competition. So no hard feelings?” I took her hand and shook. “None taken.” “So now that we’re actually out of Molloy’s presence, let’s lay down the real truth: he pays me, but I work for you, period – and that means that I work for you even if that means he wants me to turn against you or whatever. The HIVE might be my employer and distant relatives, but I put a high price on my integrity and that is not for sale. So that being said, based on all the research I’ve done on Destiny Ranson, she’s a nutty whore who will fixate on you until she gets some other dick in her. Why did you sleep with her, anyway?” “What?” “That’s what our interview with her roommate says. Actually, her roommate’s interested in a three-way and wonders why you haven’t come around.” The look on my face must’ve made clear what I thought about all of that, because she shrugs and goes on to the next part. “Next, it’ll be me and Princess Luna going to Canada, not staying here with you. I’m sure you don’t need a Luna lookalike in your life if it’s not her, she’d probably feel better about it and truth be told, I could live without the temptation.” “You were serious about that?” I ask her. “It’s Molloy, of course she’s serious, love,” Moon tells me. “Yeah. I was there when Taylor – that’s the actress, Taylor Andrews – called us.” “Wait, Taylor Andrews is a throwback?” I can’t help it; my journalistic instincts kick in. Taylor Andrews is one of the hottest actresses in Hollywood under the age of thirty and if she’s a changeling, then…. I think about it and let it go just as quickly as I dug it up. “Yeah, she is,” Arturia says frostily. “I take it you know her?” Moon asks. Arturia nods. “Half-sister, actually. We have different mothers: my mother died in a car accident not long after I was born. My aunt – my mother’s sister – helped my dad get through the early days, one thing led to another and…well, let’s just say that family gatherings can be really awkward. Still, Taylor’s my kid sister and I’m proud of her. So, yeah, it’s kinda personal, Princess.” “Moon, if you please. All my friends call me Moon.” Finally, Arturia smiles and I think it’s the first genuine one I’ve seen out of her. “I just have one last question, if you don’t mind, Mr. Shores.” “Sure, fire away.” “You don’t happen to have a twin brother, do you? If I can’t have you, I don’t mind settling for second place.” We leave before Moon can finish laughing her ass off. Dinner tonight is terse, to say the least. “Honestly, love,” Moon says, ruffling her feathers as she eats a bite of veggie lo mein, “I’m not offended that you found her attractive. If you want to know the truth, since I’ve adjusted to the human lifestyle, I’ve found a few guys easy on the eyes, but I know you and I belong together. Besides,” she says with a grin, “I can’t find any other guy who doesn’t complain about my molting or all the fur I leave around the house.” “Believe me, I’ve gotten used to that. And besides, you know that I couldn’t love anyone else but you,” I say as I’m looking into those gorgeous slitted eyes of hers. After all this time, I find them fascinating and attractive. Also, she’s stuck with them unless she’s wearing her eyeglasses, so I have to get used to it. “Flatterer,” she says off-handedly. “So I guess Arturia and I will go to Canada – excuse me, ahem, ‘my homeland’,” she says with a grin, “and keep an eye out for her sister. Don’t worry, though, I’m not staying in the hotel room if I can avoid it. I don’t mind flying back and forth for you. Besides, I have to practice for Pacific War – and that means practicing with a whole lotta shooters and I can’t do that in my hotel room.” I’d almost forgotten about that: Pacific War. Square Enix is putting out a new MMOFPS, Gunslinger Infinite, and they’ve asked some of the top gamers from around the world to compete to show it off before it’s released to the public. Naturally Moon is one of the people who was selected as part of the American contingent – they’re taking people from all over the world. I wonder how they’d react if they knew that by picking Moon, they’re pulling not only from all over the world but from other dimensions as well? “You don’t have to make that kind of effort, sweetheart. You’re going to be busy enough as is, and I don’t want you to wear out on my account. Plus, this is your chance to get to know Arturia and see if she’s on the up and up.” “I’m sure she is, but you just got back from Barcelona two days ago and we’re already going to be separated again?” She pouts and I have to admit, as cute as she is when she pouts as a human, it’s positively cavity-forming when she does it as a pony. “I was hoping that you’d come with us.” “I wish I could, but Cherry has to head out of town herself for some business meetings in New York and she wants a senior staffer on hand in case the apocalypse comes. Given that I just got back from my ‘vacation’, I got to draw the short end of the stick. Besides, it’s only going to be a few days or so – I don’t think you’ll be out there for weeks on end. If Arturia is actually as good as she says she is, then it shouldn’t take long at all.” “I am so going to hate sleeping alone in a bed thousands of miles away from you,” she sighs. “I know, but doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?” I say with a wink, and she giggles. Corny, but she likes it. She finishes her last bite and tells me, “Now don’t pig out tonight, okay? I’m baking a pie and I don’t want you to miss out on it because you overate.” I shake my head and chuckle; as usual, she’s playing domestic goddess because she’s either trying to butter me up or make me feel better. I step away from the table, then go over and kiss her on her furry cheek. She leans into the kiss and nuzzles me. Yes, it goes without saying that we don’t have the most normal of relationships, but at this point, I wouldn’t trade the world for her. And if that Celestia alicorn ever shows her face around my girl? I don’t know what I’ll do...but it won’t be pleasant, I can assure you. We collapse into contented sighs as we finish our lovemaking. I don’t ever want to sound like I’m comparing her to Rachel – and I would never do that to either of them – but Moon and I tend to be a bit randier at night than Rachel and I ever were. Maybe it’s because Moon is a lunar goddess and she’s used to it. Maybe our lovemaking is some sort of ritual. Maybe it’s just a form of worship to her. Or maybe we’re just both horny as hell. Either way, it’s part of the way we express how much we love each other. And part of me is sickened by how Destiny would have treated it as just some sort of game, no matter how she felt. Coupling...well, maybe I’m old fashioned in that sense, but it’s about two people giving the ultimate expression of love, of two bodies uniting as one. I feel the touch of her fingers, and her contented sigh. Her eyes are glowing, turquoise gems with a black line down the middle. “So, are you sure you’re going to be okay while I’m gone?” “You know, somehow I managed to survive between losing Rachel and meeting you; I’m pretty sure that I can last a week or two, given that I’m in a better place now. After a week, though, either I’m going to have to call Katie or Carrie for help, or else you’ll have to read about the feral man who’s running down Beach Boulevard naked and hunting down stray pets for food.” She laughs. “I’d almost pay to see that.” She then changes and drapes a wing over me. “But personally, I think I like being the only one seeing you naked, good sir.” “So long as it’s just you,” I tell her, and I can barely hear her words of how much she loves me before I drift off to sleep. The dream...I know I’m dreaming, right? How do I know I’m dreaming? Moon, hon, what are you up to? “Do not call us ‘hon’, for thou do not know us.” I hear that voice, clear as day, and I know it’s my girlfriend’s, but...at the same time it’s not. There’s a slightly different timbre to it, something both hesitant and self-assured at the same time. Plus, Moon got out of using the majestic plural ages ago. “Where is it?” I hear the voice ask me, and I turn. I can see her there. No, it’s not her – it’s her. Somehow, it’s Princess Luna. “Where is the Nightmare?” She seems to look around, as if she cannot see me. She walks past me and I can see every bit of her, like a funhouse version of my own girl. Only it’s the more normal-appearing look to her eyes and the scowl on her face that makes it clear she’s not my love. “Do not hide from us; I can smell her stink on thee!” she growls impatiently and ruffles her feathers. All of these motions are the same as my girl’s...but seeing them on Luna seems so very wrong. I’m not sure which mare did it first, but I can sure as hell know which one I’m more familiar with. “Leave her alone,” I venture. “Haven’t you done enough to her?” “Done enough to her?” I hear the angry reply. “Done enough to her? Ha! That thing, that monster claims to have a persona, a gender? Nay, that is nothing but an insect worth killing, a trifle that must be disposed of! It haunts and vexes us, but we will be assured that it will be dead by our hooves!” “Leave her alone,” I say in a firmer voice. “Leave Moon alone now or else—” “Or else what?” She turns to look at me...or rather in my direction; somehow she still cannot see me. “Or else what, shade? What can thou do to us that it has not already done to us for centuries? What?” “That’s my final warning,” I say, taking a step forward. “Leave her alone, no—” “—w,” I finish as I sit up. Looking at me is a terrified Moon in alicorn form, the fur around her eyes wet with tears. Outside, I can see the sun rising. The sun? Wait, wasn’t it just midnight a few seconds ago? She holds me close and sobs, “That was too close! I won’t let her have you, I won’t!” “Moon, what happened?” I ask her as I hold her close. It takes a few more seconds for her to calm down and look at me. “Moon, honey, what happened?” “Dimensional rift opened above the house,” she explains. “Happens all the time, part of the natural order of things, sooner or later scientists will find them – they often don’t last long enough to detect with current tech. But one just happened to open above the house…and she reached in. And she sensed me – and then she went after you.” I caress her cheek with my hand, running the back of it softly across her ebon fur. “I’m okay. And even if I wasn’t, I know you’d come in guns blazing after me.” “Like Dirty Harry, Jason Bourne and Rambo combined,” she insists. “But now she knows I exist. And that means that she’ll start looking. What’s going to happen then?” “Then she’ll have to deal with the fact that I’m not letting you go. And if she doesn’t like it, tough shit,” I assure Moon. It takes the next couple of hours for me to calm her down to let her know that I’ll be fine and that she should be able to travel without worrying, reminding her that it took fractions of a second for her to act when she thought that Katie was out to harm me. If Luna, or whomever, invades from their home dimension, they’ve got so much more to worry about than just Moon. Finally, she relaxes enough to get dressed and get ready. While she’s doing so, I get a knock on the door and it’s Arturia, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. “Nice place you got here,” she tells me. “I also took the liberty to add some perimeter spikes to the front yard” she adds, holding some sprinkler-shaped high-tech device up. “If you don’t mind, I’ll add them to the backyard. That way if someone who doesn’t fit the biometric profile shows up, HIVE security can be here within minutes.” “Be my guest,” I tell her and point her to the backyard just as Moon shows up. Dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and jeans, she looks beautiful as always, but I can see that she still has concerns on her face. When I explain that Arturia’s laying down security measures, she breathes a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what’s worse,” she tells me. “Destiny doing stupid shit here, or Luna trying to break in from Equestria.” “Why can’t it be both?” I joke before she then explains that she laid down some countermeasures of her own: now any dimensional rift that naturally opens within a mile of the house will automatically redirect to somewhere in Indonesia. She then apologizes for not bringing back souvenirs from her brief two-second trip to Bali, but that things were closed at that time of day. I just nod my head and agree. Yup, wouldn’t trade this abnormal life for the world. Author's Note I'm guessing some of you are wondering if Arturia's a reference to Fate/Stay night's Saber. Well, yes...and no. More like a running joke I have with my wife that's about to get a lot worse. Also, feel free to give the TVT page a little love; it could use it!
fourteen. she. film.View Onlinehe. she. we.fourteen. she. film.fourteen. she. film. Once again, I find myself on a plane, only this time taking me to the supposed land of my birth. The thing is, technically it’s Selene De Lune’s home country, not mine; and again, technically, she doesn’t really exist – it’s just an identity that I’ve been using since my time here. While it’s true that it’s my only identity outside of my pony one and now my de facto everyday life, I have to deal with the basic truth that who I am is a sham, and part of that sham is heading across the border. Seated next to me is my new bodyguard and ostensible Girl Friday, Arturia Moynihan, or if I want to be technical, Celestia Arturia Moynihan. We got off on the wrong foot at first, but we made up for it quick, and it’s my hope that while we’re on this trip, she and I could get to know each other a little better. It’d be good to have another friend I can rely on, and if nothing else, I suspect she’ll be a good shooting buddy for Pumpkin. Currently, Arturia’s got her eyes closed and is gently dozing. I envy her that. I hate being trapped in this tin can for hours, but there’s not much I can do. Sure, I could fly on my own here, but I’d still have to bring Arturia, our luggage and other things and come up with both our faked flights, passports, stamps and all that. That’s too many variables for something that’s otherwise a minor nuisance – and this is on the least protected border in the world. I’d hate to see if we were going to, say, Cuba. “You’re restless,” I hear her say, and she opens a single eye. “I take it you’re not one for flying – or at least with someone else at the wheel?” I nod. “You could say that.” She grins. “Yeah, I know the feels. I hate not having control of my life, or being able to allow other variables in. I guess you could say that I have a hard time trusting others, even if I’m completely loyal. It’s just….” She shrugged, and as she did, she dropped what looked to be a manga book. Neither North nor I are big into anime and the like, but Katie and Pumpkin are, so I’m familiar enough with them. What I’m not familiar with is seeing Arturia on the cover…dressed in armor. “Did some modeling in Japan?” I ask her as I pass her the copy. She laughs. “I wish; I’d be rich by now. Welcome to the Fate series, the bane of my life – featuring women fighters from various time periods, who all look exactly like me by coincidence, and the most famous of them—” she says, rapping her fingers against the cover, “—is Arturia, better known as King Arthur, King of the Britons.” That is by far and away the weirdest shit I’ve heard…well, the weirdest thing in about a week, at least. “Seriously?” Arturia shrugs. “Yeah. Granted, I really never liked my name to begin with, but this just made it magnitudes worse. Especially five years ago, when Taylor insisted on us going to San Diego Comic-Con – and guess who I had to go as? Saved a load on paying for a costume, though.” “Sorry,” I blurt. I’d had a chance to read our copy of Peter Beagle’s The Last Unicorn, and if that’s what they think of my kind, well, I’d probably be as bothered as Arturia is. Plus, there’s something about Amalthea that reminds me of Celestia, and that is decidedly not a good thing at all. A few hours and one drive up from Toronto, we arrive in Guleph. We’re both tired from the flight – apparently a huge dislike of flying tends to take all the energy out of a person, go figure – so with a quick magical recharge of energy for me and a huge, friendly hug for Arturia, we drop off our bags at the hotel and drive off towards our destination. We end up out in the boonies – and by out, I mean mine and North’s vacation home in Big Bear looks like downtown LA in comparison. “You can almost hear the banjos,” Arturia says to me as she’s looking at something on a tablet. “I don’t get that,” I tell her. Seriously, I hear that comment more often than not, and I just don’t understand it. What, are banjos considered an instrument only rural folks have? “Seriously?” she asks me and I nod. “Well, it’d probably take too long to explain, but it’s a joke that goes back to some movie from the 70s,” she explains. “Haven’t seen it myself, but the reference is so old that it’s taken on a life of its own.” “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I tell her as we reach our destination, a rather out-of-the-way farm; the front of the homestead is filled with cars, trucks and trailers galore. As we slow towards the gate, a security guard approaches our car. “Remember the plan,” Arturia tells me and I try not to roll my eyes. I know this is her job, but seriously, I do know what I’m doing. Well, on occasion, anyway. I roll down the window and as the guard arrives, I flash the credentials that Molloy got us. I have no idea how he does it, and I probably don’t want to know, but I’m told they’ll hold up against reasonable scrutiny. “Hi, we’re from the US CDC. We were asked by the NML to come in and consult on a case. Can we see whoever’s in charge here?” The guard cheerfully points us to the director’s trailer and a place to park next to it. “Well, that was easy,” I tell Arturia as we head towards the trailer. “Yes, and that bothers me,” she says as we come to a stop. We get out of the car and knock on the trailer door before going in, where two people, a man who looks to be in his early thirties, and a woman in her early twenties, are arguing. Despite the sandy brown hair and green eyes, the facial and body features clearly indicated this was Taylor Andrews, Arturia’s younger sister. “Look, Larry, I’m just not sure that it’s feasible right now to keep filming with one of our actors down,” Taylor tells the man. The guy, whose name I presume is Larry, says to her, “Larissa is on the phone with the studio right now, trying to convince them, but I know those guys, and they won’t bite. Not happy about it either, but until she can get them to back off, we gotta do what we gotta do, okay?” “What’s going on?” Arturia interjects, and it’s at this point that both combatants turn to finally realize we’ve walked in. Larry doesn’t seem so happy to see either of us. “Okay, who are you and what are you doing in here?” he asks. Taylor, however, gets bubblier than Pumpkin on champagne. “Hey, you came!” she says, jumping forward to hug Arturia. I’m not a thymophage like either of them, but even I can feel how much these two love each other. Hell, the smile on Arturia’s face is nearly giddy and half the time she acts like she’s a Klingon. Why yes, I have seen Star Trek – though for some reason North keeps insisting that I skip Enterprise. No idea why. “Taylor, who are these two?” Larry asks. Hey, it’s a fair question. I’m guessing he’s not going to want an answer of “Oh hi, I’m an alicorn lunar goddess from another reality and this is my half-human, half-arthropod emotion-eating bodyguard. We’re here on the request of another half-human half-arthropod because someone’s eating people’s emotions and it’s not her.” Call me crazy, but even surrounded by Hollywood types they’re not going to believe that answer, no matter how true it is. Fortunately for us, Arturia’s kid sister is an actress. “Larry, this is my sister, Arturia. I asked her to give us a hand looking into the issue. She’s a private eye, so she’s trained to do that stuff. I guess this is her partner,” she adds, gesturing to me, “though I’ve never met her before.” “Actually, Taylor,” Arturia tells her sister, “she’s my boss.” That’s my cue. “Yes, I’m Selene De Lune,” I say as I offer my hand. Introducing herself to me, Taylor says, “Well, I’m Arturia’s little sister Taylor Moynihan, though I go by my mom’s maiden name for my stage name. And this is Larry Vandervort, the director for this little shindig.” That name sounds familiar, but for some reason I can’t place it at first. Pumpkin’s the cinephile of our group, and while I try to keep up, I’m more of a book kind of mare. A second later, the reminder comes in: a woman about our age, dressed in a polo and slacks, with horn rim glasses and a short haircut despite looking attractive without either, walks in carrying a clipboard. “Hey, Larry, I was right – the suits are not going to give us any more time. We either finish filming by the 18th, or they’re going to pull the plug on our funding.” She sighs. “Fortunately, I’ve got some extra buttons I can push in case of emergency, but I don’t want to do that just yet.” It suddenly dawns on me who these two are: The Vandervort siblings – the hottest director/screenwriter/producer combo in Hollywood at the moment. If I recall correctly, they haven’t even hit their thirties yet and they’ve already got a string of hits that make the Wachowskis, the Farrelly brothers, and the Russo brothers look like amateurs. Larissa and Larry Vandervort pretty much command the studios’ attention, so to hear that things aren’t going well for them right now just underscores whatever’s going on here. “Who are these two?” Larissa asks. “Friends of Taylor’s,” Larry tells her. “They’re investigators looking into Dave’s death and Edwin’s poisoning.” “Well, we need someone to do it, so…glad you guys are here.” She offers her hand, and as I shake it, I get a strange feeling – and believe me, I know strange feelings. Obviously she’s not a changeling, otherwise Taylor would have already found out. Still, there’s something there, and it makes me curious. Oh well, it’s something I’ll have to look into later. “Well, Larry and I need to have another conference with the suits,” Larissa tells Taylor, “so would you mind showing them around? Probably best to talk to Michelle first, since she was with Edwin when it happened.” “Sure, will do,” Taylor says, ushering us out. As soon as she does, she hugs her sister again. “Arturia, where have you been? I thought you were coming to see Mom on her birthday….” To my surprise, my friend feels guilty. “Look, I’m still adjusting to what she told us, okay? I mean, yeah, I always wondered why I had the weird names and you got normal ones, and why Grandma and Grandpa practically hate Dad, but—” “But nothing,” I hear Taylor say. “Mom loves you. She raised you practically since Day One, so it shouldn’t matter if she’s technically your aunt. Does it matter to you that I’m your sister as well as your cousin?” “Not really,” Arturia murmurs, and to be honest, I’m seeing a new side of her. I have to honestly wonder if one of my big problems is that my circle of friends is composed of nothing but damaged people; my boyfriend certainly was until I came into his life. Then again, we’re not all perfect god-queen alicorns – not even me, admittedly – with a crown and a palace and a too-perfect daughter to clean up your messes. I wonder if that bitch has somepony to wipe her ass for her, too. I tune back into the conversation as Taylor continues to admonish her sister. “Look, I’m sure Aunt Galadriel was nice; Dad did fall in love with her after all – you were born because of that. But when push comes to shove, you’re Mom’s kid. You’re the daughter of Gabrielle, not Galadriel. And looking back at it, I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa probably regret having kids during their hippie Lord-of-the-Rings phase, otherwise Aunt Galadriel probably would have had a normal name.” We’re getting afield here and though I like studying human interactions as much as the next person, Arturia is my friend and I should stick up for her. “Arturia, look, I know this is not going to make you feel better or anything, but during the end of the Discordian era, lots of ponies’ lives were lost, and ponies did what they had to do to survive, so it wasn’t all that uncommon for blended families like that to happen. I actually remember this one pegasus mare that had lost her daughters and had to raise her baby granddaughters; she adopted them and raised them as her own, then married a stallion and had two more with him. The only reason I knew was because she was part of the palace staff.” Now that I think of it, I miss Soap Bubbles. She was my…well, Luna’s maid, and had been as close a friend as her position allowed her. Maybe if circumstances had been different, she could have turned Luna away from her madness. But then I wouldn’t have been created and…. I honestly have to wonder if this is how children of rape feel about their own existences. Sure, I’m alive for vastly different reasons, but the feeling of whether your life really was wanted or not...that can be a painful thought. Either way, I don’t think I should mention the rest of the story; last thing I need is Arturia blowing a fuse. “I wasn’t aware of that, Princess,” Arturia snaps at me but gives me an immediate look of apology. I guess we’ll have to have a heart-to-heart once we get back to the hotel. She’s clearly going through something, and as a friend, I want to help her. I don’t even care about the employer-employee part. I just want her to smile and enjoy life. And now I sound like Celestia. For a change, maybe it’s not a bad thing. However, we snap back to reality as Taylor asks, “Princess?” Before I can say anything, Arturia excuses herself and her sister and drags her a decent amount away from me, towards a part of the field over by a small copse of trees. I can figure what’s happening and sure enough a second later after Arturia’s whispered something in her sister’s ear – and Taylor screams “WHAT?” loud enough that I’m guessing North can hear it back home – they decide to walk back my way. Arturia’s got a smug older sister look on her face (hated it when it was on Celestia, not liking it now, either) and Taylor looks as though her world has been put through a high-speed dryer. She looks at me with a mixture of fear and guilt. “Y-your highness,” she begins in a shaky voice. I give Arturia a momentary glare for scaring the hell out of her sister and put on my kindest face. “Yes, I am who you think I am,” I tell her. Well, I am, sorta…. “And what happened long ago is not your fault or even the fault of all the generations here on Earth. I am not here to hunt changelingkind, and in fact, I count the new queen here as one of my best friends. So please, Taylor, relax. And here on Earth, I’m Moon, not Luna, okay?” “But I thought you were just a myth!” she blurts. “That’s okay, I thought humans were as well, so we’re even, right?” I tell her with a wink and she gets my point. “Friends?” I ask, offering her my hand. “Sure, though this is probably going to take me a while to get used to,” she admits while shaking my hand. I can see the mirth-filled look on Arturia’s face. “You’re an actress, sis – fake it. In the meanwhile, your boss said we should go talk to someone named Michelle?” “Yeah. Michelle Williamson – she was the one filming with Edwin Caldwell when he started vomiting and started turning gray.” “Lotothosis,” I voice and Taylor nods. “Edwin’s in the hospital now and I was going to go see him, but as a throwback, I figured that might only make me more suspicious. Part of me considered ascending in order to search for the culprit, but I didn’t know if that was safe.” “If you do, let me know. I told Molloy that Katie’s under my protection because she’s a queen, and if you decide to ascend, I don’t mind extending that to you as well.” Taylor blushed. “Thanks. I’ll think about it, though I’ll need someone to help me with magic training.” “Doing that for Katie; I can do that for you as well.” “Thanks. Anyway, Michelle’s trailer is over this way.” “And then I took off my top because it was supposed to be a sex scene, y’know,” Michelle says, recalling that moment. “I remember freezing my butt off, because this is supposed to be in a tent in the middle of the night in the woods, and even though the portable soundstage probably had enough heat to keep me warm, they had to pump in cold air so our breaths could crystalize and I had to lean forward just so the camera could see my half-frozen nip—” “A little too much detail, Ms. Williamson,” I tell her and Arturia agrees. Granted, I’m not a prude, obviously, but Michelle looks very uncomfortable talking about it. Maybe it’s her background; Taylor tells me that Michelle comes from being the only African-American actress on a Nickelodeon show, where she played the girl next door. She was in need of an expansion to her resume to avoid typecasting, so she’s playing this role in the film, a girl that sleeps around, as well as supposed victim #3 of the demon. Turns out that she’s also playing a double role, that of the villain who summoned the demon to kill all her supposed friends and lover and somehow Taylor’s character, the heroine of the film, manages to kill it and get away safely. Yeah, absolutely not watching this; the script sounds like crap; from the look on her face when Taylor told us the plot, Arturia’s not going to see it either. I also get the feeling that it wasn’t a role that Taylor would have taken, but she told me that Michelle is an old friend of hers since high school and she’s here both for a paycheck and moral support for Michelle. “So anyway, Edwin kisses me, then moves to kiss me on the cheek, then down my neck like it’s foreplay, and then he stops and starts convulsing. At first I thought he stopped because he had to, well, act; Edwin’s gay and his partner’s visiting the set this week. But then I get a good look at him and he’s turning gray like an old black and white TV and his eyes are rolling towards the back of his head and I screamed and backed away from him. I must’ve been out of my mind, because Turner Broadwell – he’s a stuntman and is playing the demon – had to stop me and give me his sweater before I ran out into the open, topless.” She shook her head and added, “I don’t remember much afterwards. The medical staff checked me out and said I was okay, but they had to call an ambulance for Edwin. Cops interviewed me yesterday, and my scenes with Edwin are on hold until he recovers.” She turned to Taylor. “How’s he doing?” “Basil came by this morning and said the doctors hadn’t seen anything like it before, so they’re holding him indefinitely, which could damage the chances of the film being finished. Basil’s offered to take the role if need be, given that Edwin hasn’t filmed many scenes yet.” Taylor then explained to us that Basil, like his boyfriend, was an actor; they met on the set of a previous film where they starred as rivals for the same girl’s affections. Ironically, unlike Edwin, Basil was bisexual, so it would “technically” be easier for him to film said scenes. “That wouldn’t be fair to Edwin,” Michelle said. “His career took a downturn after that DUI incident last year, and this is his comeback vehicle. If they hire Basil in his stead, that’s only going to cost him future roles.” “I know,” Taylor told Michelle. “According to Larry, Larissa’s going to fight to keep Edwin – she apparently wrote the role for him specifically, but with two people down from this weird instance, the suits might just can the production and pull us out in case of infe—” There’s another scream and apparently acting on instinct, Arturia rushes out of the trailer towards the direction of the noise. I tell Taylor and Michelle to stay put before following Arturia. As I get out there’s a crowd of people by the treeline and there’s white smoke rising into the air. As I get there, I see someone setting down a fire extinguisher and the closest trees are clearly burnt. A man in his forties is lying there on the ground with Arturia hunched over him and from the pallor of his skin, he’s in deep, possibly fatal lotothosis. I pull someone aside and say, “Call 911 now.” He rushes off and I tell the onlookers to scatter, that the police and paramedics will be here soon and whoever saw what’s going on to not go anywhere except their trailer or workshop or whatever. They all nod and head their separate ways. As I crouch down next to Arturia, she says, “Turner Broadwell – the guy in question. He’s alive, but he’ll be comatose once the lotothosis is done. Another person found him when he noticed that there was green fire all around here.” “Green fire?” I’ve already got a bad feeling about this. “Yeah. Apparently they’re using a copper-based flammable for the scenes where they need demonfire. Apparently there are some real-world scenes that need it instead of post-production.” “Yes, but have you ever thought about how you shapeshift?” “Not really, it just comes naturally, why?” A split-second later, it hit her. “You don’t mean….” “I do,” I tell her as I hear the sound of sirens in the distance. “You Earth changelings have had to learn how to do it with minimal magic bleed, because it’s not as plentiful here. But changelings back home do it without a care, and guess what color their magic is?” I gave my friend a grim look. “Since I’ve been training her, Katie’s magic is growing in level and guess what color that is, too.” Arturia sighs. “I really was hoping you weren’t going to tell me what I think you’re telling me.” “Yes. I think we’re dealing with a rogue queen. And worse, she knows what she’s doing.” Hours later, the trip back to the hotel is quiet, save for the rainstorm we’re driving through on the way back. We have the radio off, because apparently Arturia wants to stew in her juices. Taylor is asleep in the back seat; she wanted to stay the night with us at our hotel both because she doesn’t feel safe in hers and as a throwback, she’s entitled to know what we know. Both Arturia and I agree that whatever’s going on, Taylor’s not at fault and there’s a different, previously unregistered changeling at work. “I’ve got the report right here. Mounties on scene really didn’t want to cough up anything; fortunately, I told them I was ex-Bureau and after they confirmed that with the local contact they were much more willing to give me access. Turns out the local farms have been here for generations; I checked with the Toronto office and both families check out – after the first incident they started their own investigation and found that both families are normal human. The nearest throwback that lives around here lives in Waterloo, and she has an alibi: she was on her honeymoon in Europe the day the first incident happened.” She threw her notepad on the dashboard and groaned in frustration. “I know it’s not Taylor, but I have to do something to protect her!” “You must really love her,” I state as an aside. I wonder what it’s like to have a sibling that loves you unconditionally. “Of course! She’s my little sister. Why wouldn’t I?” “Because of what’s happening with your family?” I ask, stopping the car at the intersection as we get off the highway. She replies coldly, “I don’t think that’s appropriate to discuss with my boss. Buy me a few drinks first, then take advantage of me, sure, but I’m not talking.” “I’d like to think we’re friends beside the employer-employee bit,” I tell her. “And I’ll bet you haven’t told Aileen.” “No,” she replies in a sad voice. “It’s not that I think she would tell her brother, but she has enough problems in her own life without me adding to them.” “You need to get it out of your system before it throws you off your game, Arturia.” A story is called for, both a truth and a lie. “Did I ever tell you why I’m here on Earth?” I then tell her the whole story from the day I was born to the point I arrived here. I debate whether to tell her the truth or not… …then I tell her. If I expect her to tell me the truth, I should as well. Maybe she’ll believe me, maybe she won’t, but if she’s my friend then I owe her the truth. “So you’re not really Luna?” she asks me as I finish. “I am and I’m not. I’m what’s made up of her negative feelings and emotions, given my own body and then stripped of all the anger and accompanying baggage. Think of me as a clone, if that makes sense.” “Okay. We’re still friends, right?” “I’m still an alicorn, even if I’m not a princess,” I tell her, “and you’re still my friend.” “Good. By the way, not telling Molloy about that. He’s an ass, and you don’t need the headache.” She closes her eyes for a few seconds, then tells me what she needs to. “First off, Taylor’s right. Mom is my mother, regardless of what happened back then, and I love her dearly. She raised me since I was a child and she’s the only mother I know, so… yeah, Taylor’s absolutely right. And maybe it’s just my own hangups bothering me, because the day before I found out, I didn’t know. I know that sounds weird, but it’s the only way I can describe it. I didn’t know and I don’t think I would have cared. Mom was Mom, Dad was Dad, Taylor was my sister, and everything was great. That was until Dad erred in sending me a book. Maybe he didn’t know he sent it to me, or maybe he was confessing in a very roundabout way, but….” She sighed. “It was my mother’s – that is, Galadriel’s – diary.” “How bad?” I asked her. I already had a feeling the moment she mentioned the diary, but…. “Galadriel found out about her sister’s – that is, Gabrielle, the mother I know now – and her husband’s affair two days after I was born. I hadn’t even come back home from the hospital yet. According to the entries, she didn’t believe it at first and thought that she’d seen Gabrielle – that is, Mom – accidentally kiss Dad. But as the weeks went on, she found it was no accident – and Dad didn’t exactly shun the affection, either. “The last entry was a hair over two months after I was born. It said that she’d confronted Alexander – my father – over the affair, and that he admitted to it. That once she was done writing this, she was headed off to see a divorce attorney she’d contacted just in case.” “I take it she never made it,” I ask, feeling guilty. I was right. I hate being right at times like this. “No. The last page has a news article from the Herald-Examiner talking about a four-car pileup on the Northbound 405. One car had been hit so hard it got knocked off the overpass and landed top first. After reading that, I had to ask my parents about it. The answer I got was like a blow to the gut: yes, Mom is technically my aunt. With Galadriel gone, instead of ending their relationship like they should have, Mom moved in with him. Galadriel hadn’t even been dead a year before Mom and Dad married. Maybe it was because I needed a mother, or maybe it was the guilt; they claim to not really remember and maybe it’s none of my business. Anyway, they ended up having a civil ceremony because when my grandparents found out, they disowned Mom. Took them years to reconcile with her, and that was probably due to Taylor’s birth more than anything else. From what I found out from my paternal grandparents, they just agree not to talk about it. “But do you know what the hardest part about all this is? It’s not that my mother really isn’t my mother, or that my kid sister was born indirectly because Dad didn’t have the decency to keep his pants on. I’ve forgiven them for all that, even if I can’t face them. No, the hardest part is because I looked up to Mom. She was my role model, so perfect and I wanted to be just like her.” Although my eyes are on the road, I can hear her starting to sob, and frankly, given how Arturia can be, it’s both humanizing and surprising at the same time. “I wanted to grow up to be just like her and now I don’t know what to do. That’s why I quit the FBI last year – Mom used to be an admin assistant for the local office until she had to quit because of everything involving her affair with Dad. She took a job as a secretary for a law firm and that’s what she still does today. But I wanted to be just like her and now I’m afraid of being just like her—” “Because of what you said to North?” Honestly, I know she was being honest about being attracted to him, but he wouldn’t stray and even though I haven’t known her that long, I know she’s got enough integrity not to give in to temptation, jokes aside. “No, I was serious when I said I’m not doing that. Even before all this I was never the type to be a homewrecker and I refuse to be one now in light of what’s going on in my life. The truth is that I’m afraid the one constant in my life isn’t that anymore and I have never lived any other way.” “Does she know about this? Your mother, I mean.” “No. I haven’t spoken to her – her or Dad – in months, save through Taylor. Things just got too hard, and…I know they’re probably giving me my own space to figure it out, but….” I gen up a box of tissues and give them to her; she needs them. “Thanks,” she tells me. “Keep going,” I tell her. We’re already at the hotel, but I don’t mind driving around a little more just so she can get this shit off her chest. Seriously, she always struck me as the stoic, can-do-anything type. Clearly she’s not, and honestly I think I prefer this Arturia to the one I first met. “Am I Galadriel’s child or Gabrielle’s? Galadriel, my grandmother told me, was a dreamer. That’s why she chose my names: Celestia, a more ornate variant of Celeste; and Arturia, because she loved the Matter of Britain. However, Taylor got her names – Taylor Abigail – because Mom admitted to me that if I had really been her kid, that was what she would have named me. Can you imagine that? I don’t know what felt worse at that moment: that Mom had admitted she’d had an affair with her sister’s husband – while said sister was pregnant with me, like I was some prototype; or that Taylor got ‘my’ names, as if she was a substitute for me.” “Mom never thought that about you,” I hear a drowsy voice murmur from the back seat, and I’m glad we stopped at the light, because the look of shock on Arturia’s face is both comical and heartbreaking at the same time. I quickly round the corner and pull into a parking space, because these two need time to talk. I’d teleport back to the room, but I need to be here to give support to my friend. “Taylor,” Arturia says as she turns to face her sister. “Mom loves you. She can’t help but think of you as her own, because you are her blood! Yes, Mom and Dad feel horrible about what they did to Aunt Galadriel – they have spent our lives making up for it, especially with you because you are Galadriel’s child – both hers and Mom’s! You have never been a disappointment to them, unlike me – remember when they were so adamant about me not going into acting because child actors don’t have long careers? They pointed to you, their older child, as the example of what I should be. Not my cousin – my sister. So please, forgive them – really forgive them, sis. They’ve suffered and punished themselves enough without their older daughter adding to it.” Taylor, despite being in the back seat, reached forward and hugged her sister as much as she could, one sibling comforting another, and while both start crying, I can’t help but do the same. Damn you, Celestia, for not giving Luna the peace she needed. And ironically, thanks – because I wouldn’t be here if you did. Once I walk Taylor and Arturia to the latter’s room, I ask the younger sister, “Is everything going to be okay?” “It’ll be fine, Moon,” Taylor insists. “Thanks for taking care of Arturia. I’m her kid sister, so she doesn’t always listen to me, so it’s good that she has a friend she can rely on.” She grins and adds, “Even if said friend is her boss and a princess.” In the background, though I can’t see her, I hear Arturia say, “Hi, Mom? Dad?” and I know that’s going to be a long conversation, so I just nod, tell Taylor to give her sister a hug for me and I’ll see them in the morning. I walk back to my room and debate if I want to fly back home to see North. I know I wiped myself flying back and forth from Chicago, and Guleph is much farther. Still, being away from him makes my heart ache. So much is happening in our lives and it feels like we barely have time for one another nowadays, but I love him and he loves me and this is a lifetime thing. And as I close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep, I think about North’s first wife, Rachel, and what she had with him, and that’s something I want as well. I just hope that I get my happily ever after instead of a brutal end at the hooves of a bitchy white alicorn.
fifteen. he. beachside cottage.View Onlinehe. she. we.fifteen. he. beachside cottage.fifteen. he. beachside cottage. I’m pushing my car up the Cabrillo Highway, just past Harmony, headed towards Cambria, doing multiples of the speed limit. I needed some time alone to get my head in gear for the past few days and how I would deal with my relationship with Moon. It’s not that anything’s changed or that I feel any different about her…it’s just what I dealt with earlier this morning. I pull off the 605 onto Peck Road, heading southbound towards the part where it changes into Workman Mill Road, past Rio Hondo Community College and into the gates of Rose Hills Mortuary and Memorial Park – depending on who you ask, it’s one of the three largest cemeteries in the world, and possibly the largest. From an article I read last year, it recently grew even larger, because someone’s gotta be taken care of when they die and the living need a place to remember where they put their loved ones. A few minutes later and after a quick stop for the biggest bouquet I could get at the flower shop, I’m here by Sycamore Lake, looking at the well-tended lawns by the artificial lake and the gravestones of people who cared for their loved ones enough to ensure they had the best spot possible for eternity – and eternity costs a pretty penny. It was Don and Tae who took care of all this for me; I was obviously falling apart at the time and my parents were dealing with the legal aspect of it all. And so I walk up to the one truly noticeable grave between Miguel and Teresa Martinez, may they rest in peace; and Sgt. Benjamin Provident, Honorable Officer, Husband and Father, may he rest in peace as well. And towering over them in a beautiful marble statue that looks so lifelike that it’s taken me forever not to take its hand and pray to God that He would make it come to life and bring her back to me, is a grave. RACHEL MARGARET EMERSON-SHORES Beloved Daughter and Wife I set the flowers down gently on the base of the tombstone. “Happy birthday, Rachel,” I tell her as my eyes start to sting as I know what’s coming next. “I love you and miss you, sweetheart.” It’s at this point that I’m so damn glad that my brother and my sister-in-law know how much I loved Rachel enough that they had a marble bench placed by the grave as well, because I’ve used it so many times that I’ve probably engraved it with my buttcheeks. I sit down, bawling like a baby for what I’ve lost, and curse Russell as I always do. But Rachel’s long gone and Russell is safely behind bars where I fucking hope he rots forever, and I’m alone. No, I’m not alone. Not anymore. And I think it’s time I told Rachel that. “Rachel, honey, remember that roommate I told you I have? Well, it went farther than that, and….” I sigh; this is probably going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “I’m in love again. Moon. I love her. It doesn’t matter to me that she’s not human; she’s right for me.” I am sooooo glad nobody’s around to hear that little part of my confession. “She’s not a replacement for you – she’ll never be. And I love and miss you every day of my life; that’s never going to change. But I love Moon and I just wanted you to know that I’m doing okay?” I feel so damn ashamed of myself right now. I feel like the flowers I’m offering my dead wife are nothing more than a bribe, hush money to keep her memory from haunting me even as I’m in bed with my current girl – the same one I once shared with Rachel. I know there’s no reason to be guilty, and as far as I know, Rachel would be thrilled I’ve moved on… Then why am I not? I love Moon, pure and simple. And it’s not as though I’ll ever forget Rachel – I couldn’t even if I tried. And yet I don’t know what else to say to appease my personal hangups while talking to a grave. And as I crouch down in front of Rachel’s eternal resting place, I don’t even have the strength to face my wife. It’s right now, more than anything, that I’m glad Moon’s off in Canada doing whatever it is for Molloy, because I’m not sure I could face her right now. Her, Katie or anyone else. And maybe, just maybe, I can hope to find peace for myself, because it’s in those moments where you’re at your weakest that a miracle comes. … Okay, miracle? You can show up now. Really. I sigh and let my shoulders slump. Guess that’s what I get for believing in redemption. Part of me is still trapped in the hell of being without Rachel, and that’s the part that I suppose Russell will forever have control over me. I hate that, just as much as I hate him. Maybe that’s there because I can’t forgive, but…I can’t. He murdered the girl he raised. He murdered my wife. Maybe this would be so much easier if it had been a random break-in gone south and some random thug sitting in prison, but all I can think of is the overweight man with the receding hairline and Ned-Flanders-gone-wrong mustache giving me her hand at the wedding telling us that he wished all the happiness for us…and then to find out that as part of his confession, he had been thinking of planning the murder right then. I can’t even fathom that: “Oh, here’s my niece’s hand in marriage, cherish her for all time because I’m going to kill both of you not too long from now!” It makes me wonder if Ronan Farrow feels like this sometimes; met him at a journalists’ convention. We chatted for a bit, traded business cards and the like. And when I think that my life is hell, I think of him. At least my personal demon is in jail. His is a constant reminder whenever he looks in the mirror. I get up to go. I’m an emotional wreck right now and I need to get out of here. Maybe I’ll just go take a drive somewhere, find a Tommy’s and glut myself with enough greasy chili goodness that my arteries will clog and sanity will stick in my brain as a result. I never got that miracle. Shortly after that, I got in the car and just let my mind carry me away, letting the blankness overcome me until I realize I’m several counties and hours to the north of home. It’s right about then that I hear a sound like the pop of a balloon, followed with the rumble of my car and the thumping of the back end tells me exactly what I need to know: blew a tire. I pull over to the side of the road and reach for my phone to call AAA; I could probably change the tire myself, but given how fast I was going there’s a chance the rim’s a little warped as well. I spend a few minutes on the phone with a pretty friendly girl who assures me that there’s a truck coming from Cambria on the way. I get out of the car and look around at the late afternoon sky. Around me is nothing but the black ribbon of pavement and rolling hills touched with the dying colors that is typical California foliage nowadays – I remember when all this kind of stuff was actually green. About a dozen yards to the west of me, past the hills, is the Pacific and the rocky shoreline. And as I take it all in, I wonder just what the hell it is I’m doing here. South is where my wife lies in eternity and where I keep home with my not-always-exactly-a-girl girlfriend. North is where my wife once called home. East and west? They don’t factor into this equation. A few minutes later, as the sun starts to complete its journey to the other side of the Pacific, I see the tow truck coming. This should be fun. And I see the man swing over to get by my car, I’m already under the impression that I won’t be making it home tonight. Half an hour later, I’m at the lone auto shop in Cambria. The mechanic, a weathered man in his fifty with short sandy hair, a flannel shirt, a Dodgers ballcap and a demeanor that looks like he’d probably be more at home in the character actors stable in Hollywood than here in a small town, looks at me and says, “You know, you’re lucky as hell.” “How so?” “Well, the obvious is that you blew your left rear tire; we can fix that instantly and your rim didn’t take any damage, so you’re good there. Problem is, your axle is starting to come off on the front left tire, and, well…the short answer is that your car is legally undrivable until you get it fixed.” He then goes into a long explanation of why it is and while I really don’t know much about car repair, the tone in his voice makes it clear that what happened was very, very bad. Just to make sure, I whip out ye olde smartphone and look up exactly what he says. Ouch. Yeah, looks like I dodged a bullet there. Well, that or I dodged having one peeved alicorn fussing over me because I got in an accident. “How long is it going to take to fix?” I ask. He gives me the kind of look that indicates I’m not going to like the answer, and sure enough, I don’t. “I don’t have the part in stock,” he tells me, “but I can see if anyone in the area has it; if so I can have it fixed by tomorrow. If not, it’ll take a couple of days.” The look on his face seems sincere enough and not like he’s going to take me for a ride. “Don’t worry about the garaging costs,” he also comments. “No charge on that until we get the parts in.” “Looks like I’m going to need to find a hotel. Any suggestions?” Twenty minutes later, I’m getting out of the tow truck again in front of the Moonstone Beach Cottages – I have to admit, I chose the name based on…well, that should be rather obvious. As Buck drives off, I briefly wonder how much it would cost to convince him to move to LA, as honest mechanics are worth their weight in gold there. Fortunately, I had my laptop in the back seat, so I’m not hurting for entertainment, and the town’s small enough that I can walk around and get some stuff. It’s early enough in the evening that I can still swing by a few stores and pick up a change of clothing. After a nice chat with the lovely old woman who runs the place – turns out she reads my mother’s column in the local paper, so she gives me one of the best bungalows on the spot – I walk with key in hand to my new temporary dwelling place. I think about calling someone and letting them know about what happened to me, but as I slip into the bungalow, I opt to send texts to both Carrie and Katie, so that nobody’s worrying about me. I briefly think about sending one to Moon, but chances are, she’s got her hands – or hooves, given her mood – full, so I’m not going to bother. The place is, in a word, gorgeous. Mona wasn’t joking when she said she was giving me one of their top-of-the-line spots: this place looks like it’s furnished to permanently live here. Given the décor and the immaculate way this place is, this has to be one of their honeymoon suites. Hope I didn’t take it from some couple. A rumble in my stomach picks that moment to remind me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I can feel guilt about theoretically ousting a theoretical newlywed couple out of their theoretical rental later. Right now, it’s time to find a restaurant around here that serves something. Luckily for me, I know just the place. Note to self: if I ever bring Moon here, make sure I swing her by the Shoreside Bar & Grill. My mom reviewed this place a few years back and the gist of her review was simply that this place has the best burgers and fries outside of Tommy’s. Their Big Sur Burger, in particular, is supposed to be meaty, messy and filled with the kind of chili that Moon hates – she prefers In-N-Out over Tommy’s, go figure – but to me, that’s just what the doctor ordered. And as I’m looking at the menu, part of me is just tempted to hand it to the waitress and say “yes”. At the moment, the place is mostly empty, save for the waitstaff and a couple of other people here, including a cute girl that just sat down a few seconds after I did. She’s looking at the ocean right now, and I can’t help but notice that she has a particular look on her face that I know all too well – it wasn’t that long ago that I had the same one. It was the kind of expression that all but painted a Picasso-style picture of heart-ripping loss and soul-crushing pain, the kind I had when I lost Rachel. Worse, given that she’s looking at the ocean, her gaze doesn’t quite imply that she’s suicidal, but that she’s mentally broached the concept. Sad as it is, I have to admit that I know how that is, too. She then sees me looking at her and glares at me. Again, I’m going to hate myself for admitting it, but I don’t know many girls of Asian extraction with blue eyes, and hers are that otherworldly ice-blue you see rarely with platinum blondes, and pretty much never with dark-haired girls who, I’m guessing, are probably part Chinese or Japanese or something like that. And as she gets up from her seat and walks over to me – well storms over is probably more like it, I start looking for whatever line I just crossed without intending to. Unceremoniously, she plops in the chair right across from me, and the world just got a little too small too quickly. “You had better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking, or else I’m going to make you eat that beer bottle,” she warns. “Look, for one, you just came over here to talk to me, okay?” I point out, probably putting my foot in it. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. “Secondly, if you think I’m coming onto you, I have a girlfriend that I’m happy with, and not looking elsewhere. If anything, I was looking at you because you look like the world just took a huge, steaming dump on you and it reminded me of how it was that way for me not too long ago. That’s all.” “Oh? So you got screwed over by your fiancé?” she asks, as if we’re going to have some sort of my-life-is-worse-than-yours contest. Sorry, not in the mood for that. “No, but I went to visit my wife’s grave earlier today. Still haven’t really recovered for that.” She backs off, but only slightly. “I thought you said you had a girlfriend?” “I do now. But it took me three years just to get over my wife’s murder to get to the point where I was able to deal with it.” Her eyes widen and I know I’ve won this little contest we’re not having. “Woah. Hey, sorry, it’s just….” She sighs, and I get the feeling I’m about to become the local confessional. A priest I am not, though I’ll listen, mainly because she probably won’t give me a choice. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she says, just about to get up. “I shouldn’t be here.” And if the situation isn’t awkward enough, here comes the waitress. “So, are you two ready to order?” she asks, obviously not noticing there’s only one menu here and there’s nobody at the other table where the girl’s menu was. “Sure, I’ll have the Big Sur, medium well, with chili cheese fries as well. And another one of these,” I add, holding up the bottle. I then look at the girl and gesture. “And what about you?” She looks at me with no idea of what to say. “Can you give us a minute?” I ask the waitress, who nods and leaves. I figure this should take the pressure off her. “You okay?” I ask her. “No,” she tells me. “No, I’m not, and I want to cry but I’m all cried out already and I want to….” She pauses and takes a breath, as if forcing herself to calm down. “You don’t want to hear about it, anyway,” she tells me. “But you want to tell someone. And sooner or later you have to. So why not tell a stranger?” She laughs, but it’s bitter. “Tell a stranger what? That just a week before I was about to get married to the greatest guy ever I find out that he’s cheating on me with the caterer. The fucking caterer! Turns out they were seeing each other in high school and she had a thing for him. And then Alan put his thing in her and….” Her words devolved into a sob. I didn’t want to reach over and hold her; that would not only send all kinds of wrong signals, but…let’s just say I don’t relish the idea of jail because someone got the wrong idea. She wipes her eyes and laughs. “Thanks. Needed that. So, I took the bungalow just to get away.” She laughs pretty bitterly, if my guess isn’t wrong, and then says, “This was supposed to be our honeymoon bungalow. Now, it’s just my retreat from the world until I figure out what’s next. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go back home, not after what I put up with there. Besides, I’ll have to deal with Alan at work and I know that it’s nothing that I really want to deal with; he’ll probably apologize and say it wasn’t anything and that he really loves me and that he wants to make it work.” “Do you believe him?” “I might have, once. I might have it if had happened while we were just dating. But the week before the wedding? I couldn’t help but wonder if she was the first…or if I wasn’t the first he did this to. Maybe I’m just being naïve, and that I should expect that from guys—” Bullshit. I set down my drink and waving my arms, X-style, in front of her. “Oh, hell no. No real guy would ever do that. I treated Rachel like she was the only one for me, because she was the only one for me. I treat Moon the same way. Granted, I don’t claim to speak for all men, but trust me – the real ones don’t think it’s their job to screw over their loved ones.” “Yeah, and I used to think that guys think that. Now? Not so sure. No offense – you seem like a nice enough guy and all, but why are you here with me in this romantic getaway and not with your gal?” Now it was my turn to laugh. “Moon’s taking care of some personal business up in Canada – she’s originally from there,” I tell this mystery girl and I feel a slight twinge of guilt as I say it. Not because I’m lying to a stranger, though lying at all is bad, but that she’s right: I should be with Moon right now. I certainly would want to be. “Now as for what I’m doing here, I was taking a drive up the coast, and my car broke down just outside of Harmony. Only staying until it’s fixed, then I’m heading right back home. Believe me, the way the day’s gone for me, I’m much safer there.” “So then, Mr. Life-is-Perfect, how do I get around this?” she asks me, and I’m not sure at all of what to tell her. Sure, I could give her the old song and dance about how life is going to get better, but that’s bullshit; though yes, it will get better in the long run she’s going to have to live with the pain for quite some time. I’m also sure that she doesn’t want to hear that either; though she knows it’s the truth, generally I’ve found we as people don’t exactly care for hearing much of the truth. The waitress comes by again and we make the order. She orders a chicken Caesar salad and forgets to ask to put it on a separate tab, which I’m okay with. We wait a couple more minutes before I finally tell her something. “Look, you probably realize this now, but he wasn’t the guy for you. Not everyone you love you’re meant to be with forever. I thought I was going to be with Rachel until my last breath, but then her murder put a stop to that in the worst way. And now, while I’d like to think I’ll be with Moon until the end of time, I have no assurances that will be the case.” Well, none save for the fact that she’s an immortal alien goddess who can pretty much do whatever she wants, but let’s not get technical, shall we? “Now you know you weren’t meant to be with him, and it’s better that you know this way rather than a horrible divorce with two kids under the belt, a mortgage and so much wrapped in your life that you’ll be struggling for years. You have a chance to bounce back from this – few get that lucky.” She gives me a smile and maybe I’ve said the right thing – I manage not to screw up once in a while, admittedly. “Wow, that’s really profound. No, seriously, I wouldn’t have expected that from some guy just here in a restaurant in a resort.” “Eh, I’m a journalist. I get paid to use big words and stuff,” I tell her and she giggles. Yup, still got it. “Small world, I’m a television anchor. Local news, though – haven’t hit the big time yet.” Well, Mom always taught me to be polite, so…. “North Shores. I’m EIC for Psifiakon Techon, a tech website.” I offer my hand. “I read it…love the work. Anyway, I’m Jessica Chan, I’m the evening news anchor for KRXI in Reno.” She shakes my hand and just in time as the waitress comes back. We sit on the bench outside my bungalow, having had one too many beers and laughing as we’re swapping stories. And as I finish telling the story about the time Cherry brought an elephant gun into the Technon offices and scared Kyoko silly, she’s enjoying it. At least she’s in a better position than she was when I met her. She takes a swig of her beer and laughs. “Why am I having a blast right now?” she asks me. “Why am I here, laughing it up, instead of being with the guy that cheated on me?” “Because maybe you deserve someone better than him,” I tell her, because it’s the truth. Guys like that are complete assholes, and from what little I know of Jessica, she deserves so much more. Which, turns out to be the worst thing I could possibly say. She looks at me…and then kisses me. Needless to say, I wasn’t prepared for that, and I don’t return it. Yes, Jessica’s cute. And had I been single, maybe this would’ve been the cue to move on. But I’m not single. And all I can see a pair of gorgeous aqua eyes in my head, knowing that the person they belong to is the only girl for me, and that I’m the only one for her. Yes, Jessica is a temptation. But what temptation can hope to be anything against a goddess – and a literal one at that? Fortunately, I’m not the only one that realizes something’s amiss. Jessica pulls away and whispers, “No. I won’t be like him.” She then looks at me sadly and says, “I’m sorry. I almost made a huge mistake.” “I wouldn’t have let you, Jessica. You deserve better, and by that I mean you don’t deserve to rebound off him. Take some time off and let your heart decide when it’s time.” She looks at me as if it was the most profound thing she’s ever heard anyone say. Yeah, clearly it’s the alcohol talking. “Why aren’t you single?” she asks me seriously. “Why, when….” She sighs and looks at me. “Nevermind. I need to get some sleep. Look, it was nice meeting you North. I hope your girl realizes what a winner she has on her hands.” Taking another beer from the twelve pack, she shuffles off towards her bungalow, probably for a night of crying and regret. If I was single, I would. Hell, if I was an asshole, I probably would. But I love Moon and we were meant to be for each other. I get up, pick up the rest of the beer bottles and head back into my own bungalow. I can only hope that Jessica finds the right guy for her someday. I really do. I wonder if Moon knows any alicorn stallions? I get a wakeup call in the morning. It’s from my alicorn sweetie, of course. I tell her where I am and how I got here and she tells me about her misadventures in Guleph. I in turn tell her about being kissed by an Asian beauty, one whose heart was broken and who made an honest mistake. “Well, if you see her again, you’d better let her know I can’t make a clone of you. Besides, Arturia’s probably got dibs if I did,” she jokes, and I hear the slight telltale crackle of an international line. Even though the US and Canada are in the same phone system, it’s a far enough distance that the signal degrades ever so slightly. “Hope you come home soon,” I tell her and I mean it. Even as far apart as we’ve been at times, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as closer to her as I do right now. Maybe that was something I needed to learn by coming here, as strange as that is. We say our goodbyes and I get ready to leave. As I step out of my bungalow, I see a car come to a stop in front of me and the driver rolls down her window to look at me. “Well, I guess this is goodbye then,” she tells me. “So what’s next for you?” I ask her. “I’m putting in my two weeks. I can’t work with Alan knowing what he’s done now, and even if he begs for forgiveness…I can’t. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust him again, and I can’t work in that situation.” I reach into my wallet and give her my card. “If you ever need a reference.” She laughed. “Sorry, I’m not planning to get a job via the casting couch. Anyway, take care.” As I watch her drive off, I realize she’s going to be okay. Author's Note This was a painful chapter for me for multiple reasons. Five drafts and over a year later, and it's finally done. I was writing the opening scene right around the time when my grandmother died. She was very influential in my life and needless to say, it broke me. The description of Rose Hills and the grave area is accurate, save that there's no grave statuette and bench next to where my grandparents are buried. I finally finished the chapter by fighting fire with fire: Jessica's tale is a loose interpretation of what happened to me when my ex-fiancee screwed me over. Did she leave me at the altar? No, but it's heart-wrenching to end a relationship that way. Plus, ultimately it led me to the woman I've been happily married to since, so it worked out. I promise the next chapter won't take anywhere near as long.
sixteen. she. chromosome.View Onlinehe. she. we.sixteen. she. chromosome.I get off the horn (ha!) with North and my heart breaks. I trust him completely, but I should be the one there kissing him, not some brokenhearted girl (not that I blame her, mind; if what North tells me is true, her soon-to-be ex-fiancé is a philandering jackass.) Still, I should’ve been there to wake up with him. I mean, not that she did, but…. Sigh…. Maybe I get a little bit jealous. I get out of bed, where I’ve slept in my human form as a precaution. Not that I think I should be concerned about anything, but a lady can’t be too careful. Plus, if push comes to shove I have to admit that it makes me feel closer to him, and right now, with such a wide distance between us is when I want him to be as close as possible. There’s a knock at my door. “Hey, Moon, you decent?” It’s Arturia. I open the lock via magic and call for her to come in and get out of bed. As I do, she walks in with McDonalds and a couple of coffees. “I just took Taylor to the set, since she had to film some sunrise scenes, then stopped and got us some breakfast. Hope you don’t mind.” “Naah, I actually love Mickey D’s.” I sit down by the table, still in my bra and panties. I don’t care what Arturia thinks about that, as she’s made enough sexual jokes that she’s going to have to live with them. “Guessing you’re not an herbivore in human form?” Arturia asks as I pull out the steak, egg and cheese bagel and hashbrowns. “Not really. Besides, a girl has to eat right, am I right?” I tell her and she says nothing. We eat in silence for a few before I notice the awkward silence. “Something the matter?” “Yeah,” she says glumly, not offering any further information. I sigh; out of all my friends, apparently she’s going to be the one that doesn’t open up, I can tell. “Was it something I did?” “No, it was something I did.” She sets down her sandwich and looks at me. “I’m not supposed to show you my weak side, Moon. I’m your bodyguard and girl Friday—” “I’d prefer it if we were friends, too.” “I’d like that, but I can’t afford that, Princess. Your life is too important and—” I put down my sandwich. “Arturia, I found out that it’s more important to have loved ones than to be an impenetrable individual focused on the job. Trust me, nothing good comes when you live that way.” I walk over to her and put my arms around her; she bristles, but I don’t care. “You weren’t afraid to show me who you really were last night, and now I know. And you know what? I liked that Arturia. That Arturia I know I can trust and befriend.” “I told you that you can trust me,” she growled. “Yes, you did,” I said, walking back to my seat. “But as someone who was police trained, you should know there’s a difference between apparent and confirmed, right? My bodyguard Arturia doesn’t intend to let me down. My friend Arturia wouldn’t even if she screwed up, because she knows I trust her.” I think I finally got through to her as she gives me a smile. “Okay, but if you ever insist on making Fate comments, I will kill you.” I laugh. We arrive at the shooting site just in time to see an all-too-familiar sight: an ambulance already there. The guard at the location knows who we are, so he quickly waves us through. Just in time, too, as we see several people in suits talking to several members of the crew. “How quickly can you prepare a spell that can help us?” Arturia asks me. “Might help if I know what kind of spell I’m using,” I tell her, “but otherwise I can create anything within fractions of a second, why?” “I don’t know yet,” she tells me as she brings the car to a stop. “But I think we might have some issues.” We get out of the car and a man is already striding towards us, wearing a badge. Even though he’s still a good twenty feet away, I can already read his badge: NML. I start preparing a bevy of spells, just in case. “And who are you two?” he asks angrily. Arturia begins her spiel, bringing out her badge. “Agent Arturia Moynihan, US CDC. We were asked to consult—” “Bullshit!” the man shouts at us angrily. “I’m the head of the Guelph office and I’ve never heard of either of you! Now who the fuck are you really?” “Look, you can call Aaron Harrison over at the office and he’ll vouch for us.” “Well, that’s all well and good – but I’m Aaron Harrison!” I look at his badge and sure enough, that’s his name. “Moon, now would be a good time to…you know….” Arturia tells me, though she doesn’t tell me what she wants. I sigh; have I mentioned how much I hate this part? I snap my fingers and our good Mr. Harrison freezes up like a light. “Care to do this part?” “I can’t. I don’t have the mind-scrambling abilities,” Arturia tells me and shrugs in apology. Yup, really hate this part. I look around and fortunately, no one sees us. “Change into him and pop into the office and let them know that we’ll be handling this investigation,” I tell her. “It’ll give me enough time to think of what I’m going to implant in his mind.” “I hate changing into guys, you know that? Feels weird.” I give her an apologetic look and she sighs, then does it. “I look horrible with a bald spot, you know that?” she says in his voice and I almost laugh. “Okay, be right back,” she says, leaving me with him. I twist the spell slightly. “What do you know about what’s going on here?” I ask him. “i don’t know anything,” he tells me in a faraway voice. “i just came down here after i got reports of american cdc agents investigating. none of my men know anything about it, so i decided to come down myself.” “And what did you find?” “nothing. there’s no indicator that anything we can explain is here. when i get back i’m going to ask hq to send me some backup.” “No you’re not,” I tell him. “You’re going to head back to your office, write a memo about how it was just food poisoning and close the books.” I twist the spell again and add, “Now tell me what you’re going to do?” “I’m going to head back to my office and tell the folks it was just food poisoning, because that was all it was,” he repeats. “And you’re going to apologize to the CDC agents for wasting their time.” That wasn’t me, but instead Arturia as she came back in her normal form. Behind her was Taylor, who has a worried look on her face. “and i owe the americans that showed up an apology for wasting their time,” he parrots. I look at my friend and she nods, and I snap my fingers. He blinks and turns to see Arturia. “So, Agent Moynihan, I was just telling your partner that HQ dragged you guys out here for nothing,” he says. “We did some tests on some of the food and it turns out the whole thing was due to some bad bread.” “Bad bread?” both Arturia and I ask. She looks at me with a did you put this in his head? And I give her a look that tells her no. “Yeah. Turns out the flour they used in a lot of the catering products was tainted with ergot and so some folks came down with mild cases of ergotism. Not surprised the doctors didn’t catch it; it’s nowhere near as common nowadays with modern food preparation. But it looks like I’m going to have to refer this case to the CFIA.” “I see,” I tell him and I’m guessing both of us are going to going to look up whatever ergot is afterwards. “Well, I’d best be getting back to my office,” Harrison tells both of us. “I’ve got to write up this report. I’ll be sure to send along a copy to your offices in Atlanta.” “Thanks, we’ll be waiting,” Arturia says. Harrison gives us a friendly goodbye wave and then heads towards his car. Once he’s safely out of earshot, she asks, “Do I want to know?” Taylor looks up from her phone. “Apparently ergotism is a fungus in bread that causes mild psychotic episodes and delusions, while in heavy exposure is just bad. Well, if there’s a good way to explain it, I’ll take it…for however long my job lasts.” She sighs and looks at me. “Morning, Moon.” “You don’t sound so happy, Taylor. Everything okay?” “No. They just took Maxwell, the second unit director, to the hospital. Lotothosis.” She shuddered. “Is it bad that I know what that is now and that I never want to again?” Arturia, as expected, puts her arm around her sister. “Hey, it’s going to be all right, sis. Moon and I are trying to solve this.” “I hope so, or else….” Apparently or else is about to come a lot sooner, as I see Larissa Vandervort come out of the office trailer, with a megaphone. “Can I have your attention, please?” We all turn to listen to her. “Today’s the last of the shooting, and we have a do-or-die schedule today. So if I….” She seems to pause, as if she’s tired, blinks then starts again. “Sorry about that. Anyway, today’s the last on-location scenes we’ll have to do. Anything else we can move back to the studio in sound stages, so make sure that we have everything perfect! We’re working against a deadline, so I expect you all to give your best work!” “I guess the studio put their foot down,” Taylor sighs. “We either prove we can do the job or they’ll pull the funding. That’s going to be hell on my career, not to mention Larry and Larrisa’s.” “Oh?” I ask her. “Yeah. Lower-tier actors can survive this sort of thing, but when you’re a big star like they are or – and I don’t want to sound snobbish – me….” Arturia hugs her sister closer. “You don’t, sis,” she tells her. “Thanks. Anyway, anyway, being a part of a cancelled film is in many ways worse than being in a bad one. In the case of a bad movie, there’s always the chance it can become a cult classic and bolster someone’s career – why do you think Macaulay Culkin still has a job? But in a never-released film, there’s little chance of it becoming public, plus the sense that it’s so bad the studio would commit suicide. That’s the reason why Jerry Lewis buried his movie The Day the Clown Cried, if I remember my college film courses.” “That sucks.” “Yeah, it does – means I’ll probably have to agree to a sex scene in my next movie if this goes south and you know I don’t want to do that. Directors insist on full nudity nowadays.” I consider asking her if she can have a changeling come in and do the scene for her, but at that point a nude changeling imitating her is no different than if she bared it all, so I opt to say nothing. Hey, sometimes North rubs off on me. What can I say? “Well, I need to go get ready for my next scene. This is the big one where I face off against Michelle’s character. It’s going to be interesting, because at one point we have to fight each other – she’s taken some martial arts training, while I haven’t had any other than the choreography. I know she’s going to be careful, but if either of us really get injured that might put the kibosh on everything. Needless to say, we’re on pins and needles.” “Hey, I believe in you, sis,” Arturia says, hugging her again. See? I knew I liked this Arturia better. “Anyway, we’re going to look around a bit more and see what we can turn up. You just take care and we’ll check in on you later, I promise.” Taylor nods and walks away towards her next scene. “I think you should stay with your sister,” I told Arturia. “We don’t know who the queen could be, and if she drains Taylor we could have a real problem on our hands.” I look down at where she’s hiding her sidearm; while I know she said she didn’t bring one and I believe her, I also wouldn’t put it past HIVE personnel to smuggle her a piece the moment she landed. “But I’m—” She starts again. I don’t let her finish. “—supposed to look out for your kid sister, and you know it. Trust me, I can take care of myself – I used to push about 162 quintillion pounds of space rock around a planet on a regular basis. I can handle a rogue changeling.” “Without causing ecological disasters?” she tells me with a smirk. Yeah, I really prefer this Arturia. “Somehow, I managed,” I say with a shrug. She grins and then walks off to keep watch over her sister, while I stand here and look stupid. I guess I should earn my keep. Well, it’s not as though I can track when the rogue queen will use her po… I suddenly remember a time, long ago, when I laid a trap for Celestia; one that she barely managed to escape from, and even then it had gained me quite an advantage for some time to come in our war against each other. The recollection brings with it the remembrance of an old spell I could use. I look around and when I’m sure no one’s in the vicinity, I bend down and place a palm on the ground, concentrating on a particular work. This one had been developed during the war I had with Celestia, and it came in handy most of the time. Aquamarine radiance flows away from my palm, reaching outwards and writing magical runes as they flow outwards, circle after circle, demarcation after demarcation. If the spell works the way it should, it will detect any magic use within a mile. I hope. I have to admit, I haven’t tried it against changeling physiology, much less Earth changelings, who are far more efficient at their magic use than their Equestrian cousins ever would be. Still, there are other things I can do in the meanwhile. Maybe there’s not a pure hunger reason behind this. They are mostly human, after all, and with that comes human virtues…and human vices. There could easily be another motive, and we’re so focused on what we think of as standard changeling behavior, that we’ve been blindsided. I walk over to the Vandervorts’ trailer. If anyone would have any ideas as to what else could be going on behind the scenes, it would be them. As I get there, I knock on the door. “Who is it?” I hear a feminine voice say and before I can even speak, Larissa opens the door and looks at me – and she looks like a mile and a half of bad road. I remember the time a few weeks back when on one girls’ night out, we all went drinking. While I came back feeling fine (goddess for the win!), the others…well, they looked a lot like Larissa does now. “Are you okay?” I ask her. She gives me a nod. “Yeah, it’s just migraines,” she tells me. “I get them really bad. I take it you’re here to ask some questions?” “Yeah. Where’s your brother?” “Well, we’re twins, so if I get them bad, you can imagine how that works. He gets them worse than I do, so he’s back at the hotel, resting up. Tomorrow it’ll be my turn to do so, and he’ll be here. Believe me, we’ve done this dance more than enough times during filming.” She sits down at a table, pops some green tablets which I assume are Advil, and takes a swig from a water bottle. “I swear, this movie’s going to kill me,” she says in a wan tone, looking at me for support. “Well, I’m sure you’ll survive, Larissa.” I really don’t know what else I can say, as I barely know the woman. Yes, I’ve been working on my, er, “humanity”, but let’s not forget that I was an avatar of darkness relatively not too long ago. I’m still getting used to schmoozing and small talk. I have my circle of friends and my loving boyfriend to thank for that, but it’s not a lifetime of it – and Luna was never really the best of social butterflies when it came to ponies. “Thanks. I think,” she tells me and I take that as my cue to go. But before I do, I pause and add, “Look, we don’t really know one another, and I’m here with my friend for her sister’s sake. But from what I can tell, you’re trying to fight a battle to keep your craft going and these people employed. That’s a plus in my book.” She gives me a smile and with that, I walk out. As I leave the trailer, I walk back to my spell nexus. It should’ve picked up something. Actually, it should’ve picked up something and sent me a notification, but I have been a bit out of practice with that particular spell, so beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. Still, given that I created it myself during the war, I should know it better than anypony else. As I get to the spot, I frown. It’s been tampered with, which means that I am dealing with a pro here – this queen is out for blood and knows I’m hunting her. At least it’s confirmation, which means that we’re going to be headed for a confrontation sooner than I expected. Unfortunately for you, bug, I’ve learned a few new tricks in the time since I’ve been out. I close my eyes, bend down to the location where the spell had been erased, and ignite a second one. Given that the Earth changelings are mostly human, that means they have human DNA, with a little bit extra. And given that I’ve had enough time to study Katie, that means I know a little bit about DNA and can adjust. Let’s see who you are, Ms. Queen – or should I say, Ms. Soon-to-Be-in-Big-Shit. My second spell is done less than an instant later and I have a DNA print, and I quickly follow it up with a third spell in order to search the area for our assailant. They can try to elude me, but not for long. I throw a defensive ward around me, because I need to concentrate on this and I don’t appreciate being attacked while focusing. …well, there’s one person who I don’t mind attacking me, but his attacks usually start with kisses at the back of my neck and end with me sweaty, exhausted and grinning from ear to ear. A second later, I have it. A match, but…it’s in two different locations. The first is the trailer where Larissa was keeping herself penned up. The other— Oh, fuck. How could I have been so blind? Dammit! I flare for a tele— —port and as I arrive, I waste no time changing. Standing in front of me is something that looks like Larissa, but with the spotted coloration that is indicative of an Earth changeling. A sickly green glow is enclosing the area and around everything, I see plants wither and die and animals perish from the strain of their lifeforce being ripped from them. As for the humans, several people are unconscious, and before her, Arturia’s on her knees, strain clear on her face and glaring at the queen defiantly and holding her sister for dear life. She has a gun out, but it’s clear that she can barely hold onto it, and between that and Taylor, no argument who she’ll prioritize. I’ll have to get on her case later about the gun. In the meanwhile, I have a show to put on. “STAND DOWN!” I roar in the Royal Canterlot Voice as I summon my Luna disguise around me. Even though we’re technically the same being, it feels…wrong…looking like her. I was her, but she’s not me, and I don’t like it, but one must do what one must do. And right now, “one must do”-ing involves kicking the ass of a changeling queen. “Larissa” turns, and sees me, and her eyes open wide with fear. “Y…you don’t exist!” she shouts, bewildered. “You can’t!” “Luna!” Arturia shouts, at her limit. “It’s Larry! He’s the changeling quee—” She finally reaches her end, and I watch with worry as my friend’s eyes roll in their sockets and she hits the ground. Then my worry turns to rage and I summon a blast that slams my foe into the tree on the other side of the dying glade. I probably broke one of its ribs doing so, but frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. I cast a second spell and start walking towards it, my starry hair fluttering in the breeze like the winds of wrath. Larry, still in his sister’s form, looks at me with horror. “You’re…you’re….” “Princess Luna,” I state, the name bitter on my tongue, but I have to do what I have to do. “And your treachery is at an end, changeling!” “NO!” I hear two shots ring out behind me and bullets ricochet off my defensive ward. Good thing I still had that up – I don’t think a bullet would do lasting harm to me, but then again, I would rather not find out and I definitely wouldn’t want North to freak out about it. Regardless, now that I know who the changeling queen is – and this one is one for the books, surely – I have a good idea who it is shooting at me. I reach out with my telekinesis and the first thing I wrench out of grasp is the gun. The second thing I grab is Larissa – the real Larissa, presumably – slamming her into her doppelganger. “You two have some explaining to do,” I told them gravely. Somewhat surprisingly, Larissa doesn’t seem affected by my presence…as an alicorn, that is. “Larry!” she screams at her lookalike. “What have you done? I told you to feed only on me, you idiot!” “It was wrong and you know it.” “I don’t care! You’re mine and you—” Okay, things just got really weird, the kind of weird that says a lot of unspoken things and makes my skin crawl. “Okay, kids, time for you to each go in the corner.” I separate the two, pinning them against trees, then wrapping them in energy fields. “Explain – and you have seconds to do so before I make my judgement.” “You don’t have the right to judge us, Changelingslayer!” Larry tells me. Kinda hard to take his threats in Larissa’s voice. “I have every right – I am here on my own volition and a request from the HIVE to deal with you two reprobates. So I want answers, before I pass judgement.” I look at them both. “Start talking. Now.” “I don’t have to tell you anyth—” “Larry! Just stop! Please!” The look on Larissa’s face is worried, and not just like the sisterly type too, which confirms my suspicions. Note: remind myself to go find a way to get drunk then vomit later. Gonna need it. Still, I have to deal with this, so I turn to Larissa. “Look, unless you don’t want your boyfriend there to turn into a bloodstain on the trunk….” “He’s not my boyfriend,” she tells me. “Do me a favor and don’t lie, okay? I’m already sick of you two as is. I want the truth. Starting with: is he for real?” She looks at me, then back at Larry, then back to me. “Yes,” she says in a defeated tone, and that’s what I need to hear. “Do you know what a chimera is, your highness?” “Yes, I’ve had to kill a few in my lifetime.” Nasty freaks of nature, those things are – and this is coming from a freak of nature myself. I’ve had to deal with them both as Luna and as myself. “But I’m surprised to hear that they exist on Earth; near as I could tell, they were mythological here.” “It’s a biological term. The short of it was that when we were in the womb, somehow he got my changeling genes, as well as his own. The end result is that I’m completely human…and Larry is nearly entirely changeling…a throwback, no less.” I blink. “Are you saying he’s a hermaphrodite?” “No. Well, sorta. When he can’t control his hunger anymore, his genes change him into a changeling queen. Or what he would have been born as, thanks to my genes: my twin sister.” She looked down at the ground as she adds, “So I took it upon myself to…sate…his…her needs.” Yeah, gonna drink a gallon of Jack Daniels’ first chance I get. “Then why…?” “Because he became a queen! Because queens must ensure the survival of our species! Because—” “You make me sick.” I hear Arturia get up; she recovered fast and for that I’m thankful. “Luna here says my sister has the same abilities as your brother, and that she has a friend where she lives who is also a queen. And you know what? They’re perfectly normal! You blamed your sick shit on your own chromosomes, yet we all share the same ones – all us changelings! Face it – you did this entirely on your own, for your own volition and your own desires. And that makes me want to puke.” I can’t help but smile. “I’d clap right now, Arturia, but….” I shrug. “I get the point. What are we going to do about them?” she asks me. I cast a spell and a second later, both are knocked out. “Get a hold of the local HIVE and take them into custody, of course.” I briefly look at both of them. “Preferably in separate cells.” About an hour later, we’re meeting with Kerala Tharoor, the local HIVE representative. Again, I’m surprised how far and wide the changelings have spread beyond Ireland, because she looks as Hindi as can be. She laughs at my apparent thoughts and says, “I’ve probably got some Irish blood in me somewhere. But one of my ancestors moved to Trivandum and started to be fruitful and multiply and as a result, there’s a few million of us in India. As for me, my parents were HIVE employees like I am, and lead perfectly normal lives.” “Normal?” I ask her. “I’m not having sex with my brother,” she points out and though that wasn’t in my line of thought, clearly she’s just as disturbed as they are. “So what happens to them now?” Taylor asks, and given that it could cost her job, it’s a fair question. “We have two HIVE employees who are going to pretend to be the Vandervorts and freak out for a week before they fly to LA to tell the studio that they are sick of the production issues and will quit. We also have Bill Cooper, who I understand had been pushing to direct, who will volunteer to step in and take over production.” “Bill Cooper’s interested?” Taylor asked. “I’ve wanted to work with him before. I didn’t know he was a changeling.” “He’s not, but his wife is, so he’s sympathetic, so I’m told,” Kerala explains. “As for the Vandervorts, they’re going to have a few public meltdowns after this and then their careers will be over.” “And what about the real Vandervorts?” I ask. “Larry will have to be confined; we’re shipping him off to a secure facility—” “A prison, you mean.” “I hate to call it that, but yes, that’s what it is. He’s dangerous, your highness, and the HIVE has personnel that are trained for this sort of thing. Now as to Larissa? We also have people trained for what she’s going through.” “Let me guess,” Arturia says, and I suspect I know what it is. Kerala nods. “We have a couple of trained specialists examining her, and it looks like she’s been enthralled by him since puberty. He’s been in control this entire time, using her as his thrall and…well, other things. We’re also going to talk to the parents; there’s a chance they might be enthralled as well. This just adds to our concerns, as you can understand, Princess.” “I see.” Not happy about it, but that’s not my call to make. The changelings have a law unto themselves as well as the local laws, and as long as the ends are tied up neatly, so be it. But it seems too…authoritarian, if you ask me. Too much like a Star Chamber for my tastes. “Your highness, may I have a word with you?” Kerala asks me, and I look at Arturia and Taylor, who nodded. She walks off and I follow her just out of earshot. Before she asks, I put a silence spell around us, because I get that feeling this is going to be private. “A silence spell. Smart,” she says, and I nod. “Yes, I have some training in magic; I can’t shapeshift, but I can use limited magic. I’m going to be serving as one of the caretakers for Ms. Vandervort.” “Caretakers?” “I don’t know how the reaction would be on your kind, your highness….” “Please, just call me Moon. It’s who I am as a human,” I tell her. She nods. “Anyway, Moon, on humans, it’s long-term psychological damage, some that might not ever be recoverable. For over twenty years, she’s been her brother’s thrall, her brother’s plaything, and he warped her mind to make her think it was her idea all along. Now that we’ve broken it, it will be a long road to recovery for her, if she ever does. Tonight we’ll move her to a facility we have in Switzerland that we have for former thralls. She’ll receive the best care, and if we have to see to her needs for the rest of her days, we can do that there.” “And her parents?” “Same with her parents, and if we find any others, them as well.” I hear her sigh in frustration. “We shouldn’t need these facilities, and yet we have them.” “Yes, this implies that the changeling problem on Earth is far larger than Molloy told me.” She laughed. “Between you and me, Moon? Paddy’s an asshole. He always has been, though thankfully he hasn’t been that much of an issue. And yes, it’s always been a problem, because as much as we’re changelings? We’re also human, both the good and the bad. Thankfully, for every bad egg out there, we have a dozen good.” “Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t I be the last person you’re telling?” She shook her head. “I see Molloy pulled the wool over your eyes as well. Trust me, the Council is going to have a talk with him over that.” She reaches into her coat and pulls out a letter for me. “This is for you. You were supposed to have a copy delivered to you, but I suppose the Los Angeles office ‘lost’ it.” She hands it over and says, “Well, I need to do the appropriate paperwork, as well make sure that Brent and Ashley – the two changelings I have pretending to be the Vandervorts – have everything appropriately out of control until the studio can shut things down temporarily. Until later.” She then walks off, leaving me with my letter. I’ll read it later; I need to check on Arturia and Taylor. Finally, I’m back on the plane to LA, by myself – Arturia is going to spend a couple of weeks on vacation with her sister, and I suspect that also includes making up with her parents. That’s okay; she needs that more than anything. She also probably needs the time away from me after the asschewing I gave her about the gun. Ever defiant, she told me that she would do anything to keep me safe, not just because that’s her job, but because she’s my friend. We have progress, I suppose. But now I can get back to North, and my life and practicing some games, because Pacific War is coming up and those wins won’t come on their own. Besides, I like what I do. Hell, just before I left, I was approached by Renaissance Studios about some input for a new looter shooter they’re developing. Sounds like something interesting. And speaking of interesting, I nearly forgot that letter. I reach into my purse, and pull it out, admiring the expensive linen paper sealed with wax and ribbon; either they do this normally or they did it just for me. Well, I’m not really a princess, but the thought is touching regardless. I open the letter and look at the hand-calligraphed letter. Oh, this is going to make my life difficult.
eighteen. she. recoded.View Onlinehe. she. we.eighteen. she. recoded.I set the PS4 controller down and look at the eager developer faces before me. “Does anyone have an Atari 2600 joystick?” I ask in my sweetest voice. I barely know what one is – I saw a picture of it once and from a conversation that North and I had, apparently it was one of the earliest videogame systems. The name is, from what I gather, synonymous with near-hagiographic respect and, conversely, bottom-barrel scum feeding. From what I gather, the graphics of one of those games would probably pass as cutting-edge in Equestria. A girl who appears younger than my (supposed) age adjusts her glasses and runs her hand through dyed-green hair. Between that and her hazel eyes, I’d swear she looks like someone made a human analog of one of the ponies I knew as if they were making a high-school spin off of a toy line or something. She then asks me, “Um…what’s an Atari?” I resist the temptation to look over the rim of my glasses (as that would reveal my real eyes) and instead say to Ben Sandoval, “I see your crew isn’t versed in the classics.” Not that I am either – yay for hypocrisy! – but a person like me is supposed to, so I make a mental note to go hunt one down off of EBay first chance I get. Ben looks at me through that salt-and-pepper hair of his and rubs his bearded chin; in the few days that I’ve known him so far, I have noticed that is very much a nervous tic of his. As BurnStrike, he was one of the very first e-sports guys, and even though he’s retired from that now, as CEO of Renaissance, he’s trying his best to have his team put out an impossible task. “No, but I’m surprised you do. People your age typically think of the NES as the first system.” “Well, I like to be a well-rounded gal,” I point out, using my best disarming smile before I lay out the truth to them. “In any case, your controls aren’t. They feel, well, sticky. Like the controller drivers aren’t programmed correctly, or like you dipped the controller in glue this morning.” One of the guys in the back looks at me with a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment. “Uh, it’s, um…it’s a custom driver,” he says haltingly. I then explain that it makes the game handle like a slog and that’s on the PS controller. On the XBox one, it’s even worse and I want to beat the controller to death. And don’t even get me started on the PC layout. Glad I’m not on that team, but I swear I think the guy who’s doing the testing for that is probably going to need some hot chocolate, a teddy bear and hugs from a dozen of the cutest mares available. “So you’re saying….” I nod. “Yes. People write standard drivers because they’re standard,” I tell the guy in the nicest possible voice I can. “If you get creative when it comes to that, it can either work or it can go south real fast.” I don’t bother to mention which one it is; I hope he’s smart enough to figure that out. “Oh, so I just need to spend more time refining the layout, right?” he blurts and it takes me every bit of my willpower not to facepalm. Likewise, I don’t think North would like it much if I teleported this guy to Antarctica, though I’m sorely tempted. Thankfully Ben sees my frustration and tells his crew, “Okay, you’ve heard the lady’s suggestions, folks. Let’s get back to work and make the magic happen. Project Anataeus isn’t going to make itself, you know!” As his team filed out and back towards their desks, Ben looks at me and says, “We gotta talk during lunch.” During lunch at a nice place in Pomona, Ben looks at me with despair. “So, Moon, tell me exactly how screwed I am.” “Ben….” “No, seriously. I know these guys aren’t the best, but Renaissance has been a big dream of mine ever since I left the circuit. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was a good enough gamer, I would have probably gone straight into dev from the get-go. But it’s clear that I’m not really the boss type, and I’m honestly afraid that this game is going to put my studio out of business before it even gets out.” That was not what I wanted to hear. I mean, I don’t think he’s trying to pitch me to go in as an investor – I really wouldn’t anyway, because I don’t have the means, not to mention the fact that I’m not a princess anymore, so patronage is not in the cards for me. And I certainly wouldn’t ask North; while he probably would, I wouldn’t use my significant other like that. Plus, I don’t know how investing works here, but given what little I do know, it’s not a business that I would like to be in, in any case. “How bad is it?” “We’re down to the last couple million, and while that should cover payroll and other expenses…after that, we’re on fumes. Worse, Bethesda is going to want to see results. I got a call from one of their execs and they want to arrange to see a demo next week. They really want to put it on display for Pacific War and I don’t think we’ll even have an alpha complete by then.” “What about a demo reel?” I ask. But he shakes his head. “We did that at EuroStorm three months ago. Plus, Adrianne told Bethesda that we were farther along than she thought we were.” Not what I wanted to hear, especially since that means if this goes south, I’ll be out of a job. Not that I’d be starving in the streets, mind you, but an ex-goddess has to have her hobbies, right? Still, in the past few weeks that I’ve worked with Ben and his crew, they’re some pretty dedicated folks. Granted, they aren’t the greatest of programmers, but they’re all new and I’m fairly sure that no one is alicorn-perfect at their first job. Hell, some alicorns aren’t alicorn-perfect at their first job. I’m proof enough of that. But I’ve been in this world for a couple of years now and I’ve already figured out that things aren’t like they were back in Equestria. A song and a dance doesn’t save the day and people expect results, and those that can’t provide them are pretty much ground up between the metaphorical millstones. “Do you have a backup plan?” He leans back in his chair, and his slumped posture tells me all I need to know. “There’s a Chinese company that’s been throwing some serious money at videogame devs. They recently made a heavy investment in Stickshift Arts and outright bought Bottomless Pit Studios.” I can hear the distaste in his voice as he says that, and I don’t blame him. Stickshift, if I recall, was started by his former business partner turned bitter rival; and Bottomless Pit was made by a guy in the industry who’s known for selling out the moment big companies come calling. For a dedicated boss like Ben, neither of those are good signs. “You don’t think you’ll be able to stay independent?” “Not really. At this point, my choices are: find a buyer for Project Anataeus and focus on the other game we’re working on for Sega; hope that Bethesda will give us more time and more money and let us finish it; or go under. If I do the first, I’ll be losing out on a dream project I’ve had in my mind since I was a kid. No way in hell is the second going to happen, and I care about these folks too much to let the third occur.” He shakes his head as if in disbelief and adds, “You know, as fucked as things are for me, I hope you’re paying attention, Moon.” “Why’s that?” He leans forward on the table. “First off, no offense intended at all.” With a statement like that, it’s clear what he says is definitely going to offend. “But you’re young and cute. I don’t know your age, but my guess is mid-twenties—” “Twenty-five, not that it should matter, right?” I say coolly. “Yeah, I agree, and you know that, but it does. Look at CandyPanther. She’s in her late thirties, and in my opinion, she’s one of the best of my generation of stick drivers out there. But her YouTube channel is losing viewers, and why? Because some asshole noticed a gray hair on her head and started some ‘I ain’t here to look at Grandma’ shit on her channel. Now, she’s considering closing her channel and accepting a managerial job with EA, because someone called her old. She’s not old, and in my opinion she’s still hot—” “Professional opinion?” I tease. To his credit, he blushes. “Kate and I used to date when we were both in the stickdriving scene. It didn’t work out between us, but we’re still friends, needless to say. In any case, gamers can be hypocritical, and for all the guys with gray hair out there who still can push in the industry, the age of a girl out there who can do so have shelf lives shorter than fresh milk. You’re going to have to think about what to do with your future, because you don’t have much time left.” I open my mouth to protest, but I already know what he’s going to say. “And don’t give me that bit about Senior Critizen or Grandma Doom. You know as well as I do that they’re anomalies and they get by on their ‘uniqueness’. But two aged women players are just that – unique. A dozen of them aren’t. And unless there’s a sea change – and you know as well as I do there isn’t going to be one – things are going to stay the same. You know that Babes in Joyland are shutting down, right?” That catches me off-guard. The Babes are a Canada-based group, and most of them younger than we Vixens. “No, I wasn’t aware of that.” “Yeah. One of my guys follows them and apparently they put up on their website that Pacific War is going to be their last hurrah. They’re all getting older, thinking about their futures and what to do.” “But they’re younger than me!” I tell him, and that’s certainly true – but then again, everyone on this planet is younger than me. “You might want to talk to them and find out why. Hell, your whole team might want to.” He looks at me, and the look is both sympathetic and worrisome. “If I had my way, it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ve seen your skills out there – there’s a reason why I wanted you as an advisor for our game. But the world barely remembers BurnStrike in the e-sports realm. A decade from now? The name Nightmare Moon won’t mean a thing, either.” A few hours later, I’m at Trader Joe’s, doing the grocery shopping for dinner, but the truth is…my mind is still on Ben’s words. He’s putting on a brave face for his folks and that’s commendable, but it makes me think about what to do about the Vixens. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right: humans don’t live forever. They get older and the majority of them slow down, become less skillful, and come off their prime in whatever they do. Then I think about my boyfriend and try to picture that…. I suddenly feel like the moment I was torn apart by the Elements. I don’t want to even think about North getting old, much less…. I feel myself shudder and I know it’s not just because I walked past the frozen foods section. This is my home now, and even if I had the chance to go back to Equestria, I don’t think I ever would. But how much of a home would it be without the man I love? I’m not the Nightmare. I refuse to let what happened to Luna darken my world. This world wouldn’t survive that and wouldn’t have a way to stop me if it did – but that’s not the point. I am not Luna. I will not let her choices color mine. Then I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist. I know they’re not North’s. And without even turning around, I say aloud, “Jake, take your hands off me or I swear I will shove you in the lobster tank.” He does so, then moves to look at me with that supposedly charming smile of his. “That’s nice of you and all, but I don’t think I’d fit.” “Trust me, I’m sure I can arrange that,” I tell him. Jake Lopez is one of those examples that prove that you love someone despite their foibles. And no, I’m not talking about him – I’m talking about North. This is North’s best friend despite the fact that Jake is a sanctimonious jerk who seems hellbent on trying to smooth talk his way into getting into my pants since we met two weeks ago. North insists that he doesn’t mean anything by it, but I know my beau enough to know when he’s lying through his teeth – and besides, I very much know Jake means every bit of it. He looks at my shopping cart. “You know, you don’t have to go shopping,” he says. “I know this great seafood restaurant in Corona Del Mar. Nice, cozy, perfect for candlelight dinners and soft quiet moments—” “Sure, send me the Yelp link,” I tell him blandly. “I’m sure North and I would love to check it out.” “Or maybe you and I could, and North can go with that blonde friend of yours.” I try my hardest not to reach over and punch him into the next timezone. Somehow he’s already figured out that Arturia has the hots for North, even though I know she won’t do anything untoward. Not just because she’s my supposed bodyguard, but because she’s also my friend as well. But this jerk strikes me as the kind of guy who would try to make that sort of deal with her if she didn’t have the scruples. North, dear, I love you but you have shitty taste in male friends. Doing my best to ignore him, I head over to the wine racks and of course Jake follows, pausing only to look at some wines he’s not interested in only because the cashier is watching him and the last thing he wants is to get tossed out of the store for harassing the customers. “So, heard you were talking with Ben Sandoval of Renaissance Studios, right?” That catches my attention. “You know him?” For a strange surprise, the look on Jake’s face becomes serious. “Yeah. He came by earlier today for a medical exam. Guy’s got the world on his shoulders and he’s pretty chatty. I used to be into games myself when I was a teenager, so I remember him from his BurnStrike days. We did some talking and at some point your name came up.” That is not good. “I can’t discuss business, I’m afraid.” “It wasn’t about business. For some reason, that guy is worried about you, Moon. Maybe because he sees himself in you – man whose gaming career was cut short because of…well, I’m afraid I can’t talk about that.” Well, what do you know – Jake actually has some scruples. Will wonders never cease? Unaware of my train of thought, he continues on. “In any case, it’s clear that he thinks highly of you. Not that I blame him; you’re a real doll.” “Yeah, and this isn’t the 1940s, Romeo,” I remind him. “You’re right, it’s not – you’re not the kind of woman that would fall back on the happy housewife routine, so you should listen to what he says. Guy’s got a good head on his shoulders, and while I don’t know the full details of what he told you, I’m sure it was enough to make you think about a life beyond Dualshocks and Razer mice.” I hate to say it, but…he’s right. I hate him even more for that now. I get home and am just about to teleport everything into the house, when I see a familiar car parked by the curb next to the house. Crap, I completely forgot that Don and Tae were joining us for dinner tonight! I’ve been so busy the past couple of days, that I’d completely forgotten about that. Sometimes I wonder if I’d forget about my horn if it wasn’t attached. Pulling into the garage and parking, I decide to just grab the groceries and head into the house. It’d be so much easier to carry everything in my magic field, but then I’d have to explain that, and then while I’m at it that I’m an inhuman goddess from another dimension who really likes In-N-Out, really spicy enchiladas and the occasional backrub. Hey, at least I’d be no stranger than Tae, right? I mean, she’s foreign, too! …yeah, that probably wouldn’t work. Fortunately, as I open the door leading to the house, North is there with a smile and a kiss. “Wasn’t sure how long you were going to take and they got here earlier than expected,” he tells me with a slight apology, “so I figured I’d just take care of dinner anyway.” “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” I tell him as I snake one of my arms around him and give him a return kiss. “You’re a treasure, you know that?” “Just keep thinking that,” he tells me with that smile I know is just for me. Have I mentioned just how much I love this guy? I then go off to go meet North’s brother and his wife. Don’s a banker and financial specialist – North often jokes that his brother’s probably adopted, because no one else in the family knows how to use money to save their lives. Tae’s a teacher; I’m somewhat impressed by that, given that Luna was always interested in education and the arts, and I got that from her. They’re wonderful people and even if I wasn’t tied to North I think I’d be glad to know them both as individuals. To my personal pleasure, he’s made his mother’s enchilada recipe (though Don teases him that they’re nowhere near as good, but I strongly disagree) and we sit around and chat at the table for a while. Personally, I think Don actually likes North’s treatment of their mother’s recipe, but he doesn’t want to admit it. I get a bit of a personal validation there when Tae starts teasing her husband about how she can make better enchiladas than he can – and she comes from a culture where things like that aren’t common! I watch with a bit of absent glee as husband and wife playfully bicker over who is the better cook at their own home, and it reminds me of all the debates I have with North over this issue. We all know who the better chef is anyway. After that, we all decide to watch a movie on Netflix, but truth be told, I’m really not that interested, because I still have the conversations that I’d had earlier with Ben and Jake on my mind. Even a glass or two of my favorite cabernet and watching some vapid Hollywood celebs on the screen make idiots of themselves (this is a comedy, but a really bad one, truth be told). It doesn’t help any that this is a comedy about a bunch of software developers trying to make it big while worrying about the pitfalls and trials of the business world. And the starlet whose name I can’t recall is playing a “former e-sports pro trying to go legit” – as if what I do for a living isn’t a real job. If they think cyberathlete isn’t a real job, I wonder what they would have made of my former jobs? Former princess, goddess and warlord – those aren’t exactly jobs that come with a resume, after all. “So, want to tell me what’s wrong?” North asks me after Don and Tae leave and I shrink back to my normal form. “That obvious?” I ask him as my clothing vanish off me and I ruffle my wings. I can already feel a couple of primaries are loose and I’m going to need to preen fairly soon. Maybe I can North to do that for me? The thought makes me blush. He looks at me and adds, “Do I even want to know?” “Sorry, my mind sidetracked for a second,” I tell him. I then go into my conversation with both Ben and Jake – and my surprise that Jake was actually being almost a normal member of the human race – and the thoughts it left me with. “You seem pretty thoughtful about this. I thought you didn’t have to worry about those sorts of things.” “An alicorn might not,” I remind him, “but your very human girlfriend certainly has to.” “True, true. So what do you intend to do about it? I know you like gaming and I couldn’t take that away from you even if I wanted to, not that I do. “Honestly, I don’t know. The sad part is, the Vixens, as much as I love being with them, have a short shelf life. They might not be mentioning it, but I can’t be the only one thinking about this.” As I mention that to him, I also think about Katie and Pumpkin. They’re fellow Vixens and two of my closest friends and so would be impacted as well. Granted, Arturia has her ostensible day job, but the rest of us have to slave away in front of our consoles, le sigh. “Well, why don’t you talk to them tomorrow about it? You have a meeting tomorrow with the Vixens to prep for Pacific War, right? Why not mention it to them at that time?” I…hadn’t thought of that, to be honest. I guess my mind is going very human nowadays; so much from the omnipotent and omniscient angle of a goddess. But then again, I kind of like living this way, day to day. I can’t see how Celestia manages to live above everypony else like…well, like some god on Mt. Olympus. I hope Luna learned from our shared experience and lives a more normal lifestyle. It’s hard to see the problems of the common folk when you’re so far removed from them that they mean nothing to you, after all. “That’s a great idea, North. Thanks.” He reaches down and kisses me on the muzzle. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, hon.” “I don’t want to tap into your money, dear,” I tell him. “I’m not with you for that, and I want to do whatever it is on my own.” Besides, I can guarantee that if I ask him for help, I’m sure Jake will want to assist as well, and owing him a favor just makes my skin crawl. “Well, I do have other avenues besides just my money, you know. Like a brother that’s a banker and investment specialist and could give some advice on how to start a business?” It’s moments like this that I have to remind myself that I’m an immortal alicorn goddess, because otherwise I would seriously worry I would have picked up the human penchant for foot in mouth. I’m not even sure that’s possible for my species. Our practice sessions and meetings at the Electric Planet are like so many other meetings we have here: over pizza, Chinese takeout tacos from Frederico’s down the street and beers from the brewpub in the other direction, we girls laugh, have fun, pubstomp each other in PVP and sign the occasional autograph or two from arcade visitors that recognize us. Today’s, though, is a little different. As the girls and I sit down at the table in the party room on the second floor, I go over everything with them. As the oldest on the team – both in literal and supposed terms – as well as vice captain, I have to look out for them and in turn they trust me to play den mother. So after a while, Caballero looks at me and asks, “So…does that mean that you’re serious about this?” I can see the look in her eyes and I’m reminded that while we all tend to look at Cab as some bottle-blonde former Afghani girl who moved to Cali and went native in the hardest way possible, she’s much smarter than many give her credit for. Of course, given that she prefers her screen name to her actual name (Shagufta, if I recall correctly), I’m not one to talk about that, either. Plus, Cab’s an artist in her spare time. A very good one, I might add. Although I was the one who did the original cartoonish version of my alicorn form on my leather jacket, she came up with some very awesome variants and I bought the designs from her so I could sell some of them online for some of my fans. I think it’s worked out pretty well for us. “Yeah, I’m serious, Cab. You interested?” She nods eagerly. “Hell yeah! Count me in!” I then look at Katie and Pumpkin. “What about you two?” Katie looks at me first. We’d already spoken an hour beforehand, and truth be told, given her extra training as a changeling queen, I’m more than sure that HIVE would welcome the change, if for no other reason than it would limit her public exposure. I still don’t get that despite the fact that I’ve personally guaranteed that she wouldn’t harm anyone, but maybe that’s entirely Molloy’s fault. I’ve met some other HIVE bigwigs and they seem more reasonable, so it’s possible that upcoming meeting with the HIVE brass while I’m in Hawaii will prove fruitful. “Sure, I’m up for it,” she tells me. “I’m not exactly a creative type, but I know businesses need more than just artists and codemonkeys, right? Plus, I can’t stay with the Vixens forever, as much as I’d like to.” Pumpkin, however, looks at me and says, “Well, as much as I appreciate the offer, Moon, Diego and I have been talking and…well, I’m probably going to take over as the manager of the Vixens.” I blink; Pumpkin hadn’t mentioned that to me before. I then look at Diego Sanchez, the owner of the Electric Planet; he’s also technically the owner of the Vixens and the primary sponsor. He’s a great guy to know and a lot of the success of the Vixens is purely due to his desire to have a marquee way of showing off his barcade. Since he’s the owner of the team, he’s also involved in many of the decisions, though obviously in the end he defers to those who are actually slinging the sticks around. He takes a drink of his beer and looks at me. “Well, the fact is, with Round 1 and D&B’s looking at building their own places in the area, I need to focus a bit more on the Planet, which means less time for the Vixens. Since I don’t plan to drop them, I went with the idea of hiring a manager instead, and given that Pumpkin has both experience with the Vixens and the Jills before us, she’s the best person for the job.” He then leans back in his chair and adds, “Ultimately, my plan is to buy this building and use it as the flagship for a series of stores. There’s also a place in Covina and another in Ontario that I’m looking at.” He then leans forward and said, “Problem is, you’ll note that even with the size of the building, expanding the Planet is only going to take up only half of the floors in the building at most. Which means that I’d need a business partner to help pay for it. Especially one that seems to be interested in taking some of our stick drivers as they, ahem, ‘age out’ of the business and need to look for new lines of work?” Pumpkin looks at him and adds, “It means, of course, that we’ll have to look at future Vixens for more than just the ability to game. Means they’ll have to understand things on a level that most gamers wouldn’t and they’ll also have to have a skill that would be transferrable to Moon’s project should they be interested in such a move. That’s going to be a tall order, but I think we can do it.” By the end of the meeting, we have a plan, and truth be told, somewhat of a melancholy one: After Pacific War, me, Katie, Cab, Troublemaker and Broka-Cola will be announcing our retirements from the scene in order to work on this new venture. Pumpkin will also step down so she can start taking over as manager of the Vixens. Ultimately, Frisbee will take over as team captain for the Vixens, while H3XKiTTEN and NopeScope will take over as vice captains. It’s going to take about a year to set everything up, which also means a year to make the successful transition. Likewise, it’ll take time for me to set up the new business and get the top three floors of the building refurbished to accommodate the new company’s needs. As to what I’ll call it? What else? Black Alicorn Entertainment. And as to the particular project…. Well, that was an interesting month of my life, and given that I can run without sleep, multitask on a level that would outdo any Fortune 500 CEO and have organizational tasks better than the output of most countries, that’s saying a lot. But as I look at the final signed contract with my name on it, I have to admit, it was worth it. “Are you sure about this, Ben?” I ask him as I pass him both a pen and the contract I’ve just signed. My group and I are at Renaissance’s offices and we’re on the verge of something special. Thanks to some help from Don (and some needling by North), they both got me investment contacts and a first round of funding – all set up so Black Alicorn could remain independent and not have to take the unfortunate route that Renaissance is. Brooke knows some folks over at Bungie, so we’ll be able to talk to them without stepping on their metaphorical shoes, and Sharon interned briefly at Blizzard, so she knows a few devs who might want to wander our way after their contracts are up there. Along with a very useful couple of contacts from North and Cherry, we have some non-dev manager types that might be able to prevent us from looking like complete, well, “gamers” while on stage. Finally, thanks to Arturia, we have a HIVE-friendly lawyer who was willing to act as my business attorney (though he freaked slightly at writing contracts for “Princess Luna” at first) and we’re all set. Once Ben signs, Black Alicorn will be taking over ownership of the Project Anataeus IP, as well as all the assets and code that Renaissance developed. In return, they’ll continue to develop the game on the backburner for us while we finish setting things up and once we take over, Renaissance will be entitled to a small amount of the portions for the first game and they’ll also develop the first DLC for us as well. This will, in turn, allow Ben’s folks to focus a lot more on the games they have on their plate already and will let Anataeus sit on the back burner and not be as much of a financial drain on them. It will allow Renaissance a chance to survive and let Ben’s dream project get the wings it deserves instead of just crashing and burning and taking the company with it. At the same time, though, I feel bad about taking Anateus from him. Granted, I’ve got some ideas and after looking over the assets and pre-production art, Cab’s got more than a few ideas as well. But this is his brainchild and I still want him to have some input after it becomes ours. Probably more than anyone else in this world, I know what it’s like when your world – your life – feels ripped away from you and you’re forced to be on the outside looking in. It’s taken me a long time to stop being Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon and to just be Moon. And, probably too long to stop being Moon and just be Moon De Lune. Maybe Celestia and her daughter took things from me when I was split from Luna, but in the end, I probably gained more than I lost. Still, I wouldn’t want that on anyone, even if they wouldn’t take the same particular path that I did. Ben looks at me and smiles. “I know my dream will be safe in your hands, Moon,” he tells me. “As funny as it sounds, something about you…. Well, it’s just something about you that seems to say that dreams are safe when they’re with you.” Who says humans don’t have the capability for intuition? A few more signatures, some copies here and there and with that, Anateus is mine. The future is mine and more and more of who I used to be fades into the past. I’ll never stop being an alicorn – hard not to be what you are, physically speaking – but this just makes me take one more step towards humanity and towards the woman I am instead of the mare I was. I feel a swelling in my heart and I know it’s pride and accomplishment and it’s nothing I would ever give up. And right about then is when I hear the blare of sirens and from the fourth floor of the building that Renaissance is in, we look across Greenleaf Avenue at the parking garage… …which is currently aflame – and where mine and Cab’s cars are currently parked.
ninteen. he. certain looks.View Onlinehe. she. we.ninteen. he. certain looks.“And so, as far as we can tell, that’s what’s happened,” Arturia tells me and Moon over lunch the next day while discussing the arson incident. Yup, arson. Someone torched the cars and by the time the fire department got there, about eighteen cars were completely ruined, including both Moon’s and Cab’s. Also, a good chunk of the parking structure as well. Some of the buildings around were impacted, whether by thrown debris or carbon scoring, so this part of Whittier isn’t going to look as 1950s picturesque as the town typically looks. And now we’re back today, because Moon had to fill out a statement to the police, and she also wanted to be there to support her friends at Renaissance. Plus, Arturia decided to poke her head in and see what she could do from her “particular angle” sort of method. So now we’re eating at Rick’s Drive In and Out, a decent little place that isn’t too far away from where everything happened and the mood around here is, not surprisingly, not too good. But at least it gives us the chance to talk while seated in the pink plush seats of Rick’s, munching on patty melts, onion rings and some damn good shakes. “Well, given that a certain person lives in the area and works nearby too and has a history of screwing with Moon’s car prior….” I point out. But Arturia shakes her head; clearly she’s already thought of that. “Trust me, North; you’re not the only one that thought about her. But you’ll be glad – or may be not so glad – to know that Destiny is currently out of town right now.” She brings up another sheaf of paper. “She’s got a, ahem, ‘guest slot’ over at High Roller’s Gentlemens Club out in Vegas; she’s been there since last week. According to our agent who has been tracking her, she’s got this thing going with another girl and they—” “I so do not need to hear that, Arturia,” Moon tells her in an exasperated voice. I don’t blame her; I’d rather not think of that freakstick myself. “So it really was just a random guy who set fire to Moon’s car?” I ask Arturia. “But why the hell would he do that?” “I see you didn’t read the report,” she chides me, pointing at the folder she’d placed in front of me while we were ordering. “Apparently the perp thought he was going to get back at his wife for cheating on him and so decided to destroy her car to teach her a lesson. Unfortunately, Moon’s car just happened to be the same make, model and almost the same license plate – the car of the woman in question was in the parking garage over on Comstock Avenue. As for Cab’s car, hers was in the row across from Moon’s, so likely it was doomed once the fire started leaping from its origin point. Factor in that the sprinkler system apparently hadn’t been checked in ages as well as no real security system, and you have a formula for the massive three-alarm fire that ensued. It’s a miracle no one was hurt and quite frankly if it wasn’t for a camera across the street at Bank of America that caught the guy on video, the investigation wouldn’t have progressed as fast as they did.” “Well, I’m glad to know no one’s been injured, but a lot of people got screwed over by this guy, including Cab,” Moon adds, swirling one of her fries in a pool of ketchup. “I mean, I’m not exactly hurting for cash and can probably afford to buy a new car if North doesn’t get in his head to do so, but Cab probably can’t just get a replacement outright, you know?” Of course, Arturia and I both know that if Moon wanted to, she could probably just rewind time or something and restore her car, Cab’s car, and everything else there. Just in case she gets the idea, however, I reach over and give her hand a slight squeeze. She then reaches out to me with her telepathy. «I wasn’t going to do anything,» she tells me. «I didn’t think you would.» «Liar,» she says, then gives me a slight smile. “Well, while you two are clearly having a ‘couple’s talk’, let me go over what strings I’ve been able to pull,” Arturia adds as she swipes to another screen on her tablet. “While we can’t officially do anything about it, and I’m not sure that HIVE has any pull with the insurance company, we’ll see about her having an increased uptick in her t-shirt sales. We’ll make sure that it’s her personal site and not the Vixens one, so that way she’ll get all the proceeds.” “I take it afterwards there’s going to be a donation of t-shirts to the local Goodwill?” Moon inquires. “Nope – there’s a charity that Taylor has that donates clothing and other supplies to needy families overseas,” Arturia says. “I’ve been helping her out with it while she tries to hire a full-time staff for it. Besides, just buying the shirts locally and dumping them off at a second-hand store would be gauche. If we’re going to give the money out, we may as well do it in a way that benefits as many people as possible, right?” Moon nods. “I owe you one, Arturia.” I see Arturia perk up at that. “Oh, in that case, can I borrow North? The Radisson is just a block away and I really am in the mood for—” “I don’t owe you that much.” As we’re driving home, I can see out of the corner of my eye that Moon’s jabbing her tablet angrily, and generally sulking. “Car or Arturia?” I lightly ask her. I hear that exasperated sigh of hers and I know I struck home. “I know she’s just joking, but—” “I’m not going anywhere, hon, you know that.” “I know,” she says, leaning over to place her head on my shoulder, “but aren’t I allowed to be a jealous mare?” “As I recall, doing that got you into this situation in the first place.” “Actually, it got Luna into this situation, and as for me, I think I made out okay. I’m sure she’s doing fine as well.” She then reaches up and gives me a peck on the cheek. “So, I guess I need to get home so I can start working on looking over the contract for the refurbishing of the BAE office layout.” “Nope,” I tell her as I let a smug smile come onto my face for a second. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?” she accuses. It’s a fair accusation. “Would I do something like that?” “Yes, yes you would.” Dinner that night is at Tokyo Wako over in Long Beach. We got here courtesy of Moon’s new car, a Hyundai Tucson Limited that she just fell in love with “because all bosses drive SUVs” and as the owner of her own budding game development company, she has to look the part. It cost me about 35 large, but I’m okay with that since it makes my girl happy. Plus, we both like coming to the boardwalk, just for the romantic views of the marina and Grissom Island and the moonlight. Especially the moonlight, which is critically important when dating a retired lunar goddess. It’s a nice evening, the moon is full and the skies are clear, and everything would seem perfect. Now if I could only just get her to smile. Don’t get me wrong; I know she’s happy. We’ve been together long enough that I know her moods, and if she really wasn’t all that eager to go out, we could have just stayed home, especially since I have a bunch of articles to look over and with Cherry out in New York this week talking to some investors regarding expanding Technon, my hands are full. And even with my sweetheart being what she is, even in the human framework she now operates in most of the time, it’s gotta be just as busy for her. So I was hoping that dinner tonight would take at least some of the issues off her, even if just temporarily. “They are,” she tells me in that soft voice of hers that she uses when she knows I’m worried about her. We then stop just past the Aquarium of the Pacific and she looks at me. “I…I can’t get over the feeling that Destiny’s behind this, somehow,” she admits. “Why? As much as I think she’s out of her mind, she’s nowhere near here. The guy who set your car on fire wasn’t even intending to set your car on fire.” I reach over and embrace her and she melts into my hold. “You’re worried over nothing, Moon.” She looks at me and I can see the worry in her eyes, her glasses showing “normal” eyes while I know the real serpentine ones behind them are just as much a reflection of whatever demons are haunting her at the moment. “Am I wrong to feel this? She’s obsessed with you, and she pulled a knife on me!” “Yes, and as I recall, you pulled the gun out of the safe and it wasn’t for the fact that my sister was around, you probably would have blinked and teleported her to Catalina if not worse,” I remind her. “There’s no way she could hurt you at all, hon.” “It’s not me I’m worried about her hurting,” she tells me and I blink. I hadn’t thought of that before. Still looking at me, she adds, “North, she’s insane. Functionally insane, but still insane. She’s obsessed with you and I know what obsession does to a person. My existence is born from it because of the obsession of one person who could not let go of her jealousy and anger. Those emotions aren’t me, not anymore, but regardless it means I understand them. “She doesn’t love you, North. She’s obsessed with you. And even if she’s standing down, she’s making plans. Insane plans that won’t ever work – even if I wasn’t in the picture, it wouldn’t matter – because she doesn’t want you, she wants her idea of you. And when that idea never comes to fruition, it’s a short step from obsession to repulsion.” She leans into me again. “I can protect you every way I can, but even I can’t be everywhere at once.” “So do you really think that she’s after me?” “I can get into people’s dreams, remember? Dreams reveal a lot, sometimes more than folks will ever admit to, even themselves, in the waking light.” I get ready to make a comment at that, but then she stops me short with her next words: “But her dreams…they’re murky, muddled. Insensate, like a Dali painting got mashed up with Jackson Pollack. But the one thing I can see in them is what she does with you.” I then feel wetness on my chest and that tears into my heart. I don’t want to know anything further. In my time as a journalist, I’ve read more than a few wire reports that make my stomach churn, and I’ve even done a few interviews that have left me with a few nightmares. And then there’s the nightmares of my own that I lived with, those empty years that were caused by a man who loved his niece’s money more than he ever loved her. My love paid the price because of it. And now the other woman in my life is paying a price because of some nutjob. “Let’s go home,” she sobs into my shirt and I nod. A second later, reality warps around us and the outdoor night of Long Beach is immediately traded for our home. I reach up and pick Moon up and carry her to our bedroom. She acquiesces and doesn’t say anything, instead just holding me. Probably for the first night in a while she’s sleeping in her human form. I think it’s because she wants to be closer to me that way. She doesn’t have to, but I appreciate the gesture more than I can say. She wants to be with me. And I want to be with her. I think about the ring that I have stashed in a secret lock box in the garage that Arturia set up for me. After we got that, both she and Katie taught me a few mind tricks that I can keep things private from Moon; not that she would go digging, but sometimes it’s natural to let things out. And given that my girl pointed out rightly that dreams tend to release things that even your conscious mind wouldn’t, well, it’s hard to keep a secret. Still, I just have to wait a few more months…. Well, this is familiar: the morning is Belgian waffles served with a side of I-ain’t-saying-shit. Things are obviously different between us now than they were back then, but there’s just something about this morning that’s so reminiscent of that morning back then. “I made an ass of myself last night, didn’t I?” she says to me as a coffee cup floats daintily in the air, next to her head. She picked up the WORLD’S GREATEST ALICORN mug at one of those fantasy stores that thought of her species as fictional, but I suppose she’s gotten the last laugh out of things. I don’t say anything, mainly because I don’t agree, though I suspect any comment I make will be firmly in can-and-will-be-used-against-me territory. “Did we leave your car there overnight?” “No, I teleported it into the driveway shortly after we got home,” she responds, floating a forkful of syrup-drenched foodstuff towards her muzzle. “And I see you’re ignoring my question.” Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. “It was worth ignoring. Where on earth did you get the idea that being worried about me is making an ass out of yourself? You’re my girlfriend, Moon. It’s only natural that you’re going to have those concerns, especially after everything I told you about what happened to Rachel and your own experiences, both with Luna and running into Destiny.” “But I should know better. I know I can protect you from her—” “And that’s where you’re going wrong, hon. You know you can protect me from her, but you don’t have to. It means a lot to me that you want to, really. But I think you’re letting your fears get ahead of you. She’s only a college girl with some freaky habits and an obsession. This isn’t a horror film we’re living in.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she tells me. I can tell she’s not convinced, though. “Well, if it helps, she’s in Las Vegas, which is a couple hundred miles away, and her, uh, ‘gig’ is going to be for the rest of the month, so she’s not going to be back in town for at least a few more weeks, okay? I’ll be fine and you know it.” I reach over the table and take one of her hooves in my hand. “So can we just calm down and get back to normal with our lives?” A few minutes later I have my answer as she teleports us both to the bed. “We can just microwave breakfast, right?” she coos. I swear, this girl of mine…. A couple of hours (and one satisfied alicorn) later, I’m at the Technon offices. The staff is scrambling around and doing their job and I give a brief wave to Dana, our receptionist, as I walk in. “So, anything up?” “Yup,” she says, handing me a small stack of papers, likely messages for people I need to call or anything. “There’s also the interview for that Cherry had originally set up in about an hour, but you’ll have to take over.” “Oh?” I guess Cherry forgot to tell me about that one, but given how busy we’ve been as of late, I can’t really blame her for that. “Yeah. Journalist out of the blue wants to apply for a position here. I don’t know the full details, since apparently she talked to Cherry personally,” Dana says by way of apology. “Do we have a resume or anything like that?” I ask and for that answer I get a shake of the head. Typically Dana’s on the ball about those sort of things, so for her not to have anything means that this was probably Cherry doing a favor for someone and wasn’t expecting it, especially since she didn’t mention anything to me about it. “Fair enough; I’ll deal with it when I deal with it,” I assure her. “Anything else?” “Waleed said he sent you an email about his new video article. Wants to make sure it passes muster before he puts it up on the site,” she adds to me. “Yeah, I’ll take a look at it.” I give her a smile and then head towards my office. Got a lot of work to do today. About an hour after looking at Waleed’s video, I sign off on it and send him an email congratulating him on the work. It’s a solid effort and I’m glad we put him where he can do our site the most good. I then turn to focus on an expense report that Diego submitted – apparently he just got back from his trip to Germany for the Nürburgring article, so I’m expecting to see a hefty article on cars that go really, really fast soon – and start going over the math when there’s a knock at the door. Dana pokes her head in. “Sorry to bother you, North, but the appointment’s here.” I toss the remaining debris of my coffee run into the trash and try to make my desk look somewhat presentable, standing up just in time to see a familiar face escorted in by Dana. “Uh, hi,” Jessica Chan says to me as she stands right there in the doorway to my office. Boy, is this awkward. Five minutes later, we’re downstairs at Mugg’d, one of the best places for coffee in LA, bar none. A lot of places – especially cities whose names rhyme with “Beattle” – say that LA’s not a coffee town. They’re absolutely wrong on that. LA is a coffee town. We’re just a mocha latte Frappuccino kind of place as opposed to, say, a “cuppa kawfee” sort of place. Nothing wrong with the latter, nothing wrong with the former. It’s just the way things go; everyone likes their little dosages of brown joy in their own way. Hell, my sister Carrie hates coffee but will practically down bottles of Coke to the point that her blood is partially made over in Atlanta. In any case, I’m enjoying their typical white chocolate honey mocha, while Jess is sipping from a vanilla chai. Under normal circumstances, a lot of the staff holds meetings here at Mugg’d, because of the warm earth tone décor, the scent of coffee beans and the jazzy music that plays. I also like the fact that they aren’t trying to be Starbucks and so they know just about everyone on staff; in turn, we’ve practically made them the Semi-Official coffee brand of Technon. But right now, as I set my cup down, I’m looking at a girl who I’ve only known in passing for a few and was going through a real bad time. And she’d even made a pass at me, probably more out of desperation and grief than anything else. Obviously I’m not going to hold that against her, but it makes me wonder why she wanted to talk to Cherry instead of me. Hell, I didn’t even know they knew each other! “So, yeah, while I remembered you work at Technon,” she says with more than what seems to be a touch of embarrassment, if my guess is correct, “I didn’t want to come to you because of…well….” “I wouldn’t have been offended,” I try to say in my best attempt at a comforting voice. Typically this works with both Carrie and Katie. Apparently not so much with Jess. Trying to salvage it, I decide to make a different play. “So you called Cherry?” “I met her at a conference we were both working at a couple of years ago; we traded business cards and at the time that was that. I, uh, didn’t mention to you that I knew her because back when we first met my mind was elsewhere and so I didn’t make the connection. And to be honest, I didn’t even want to hit you up because I didn’t want to give you a guilt trip or anything like that. “In any case, after everything that happened back in Reno with Alan? I needed to get away from there. Plus, I wanted to move away from TV for a while; small stations tend to be a very closed-loop community as opposed to network O&Os, which means that sooner or later, I’d run into Alan.” She took a drink of her coffee and she looked very fragile in that way; part of it all reminded me of what Katie went through. “So I called an old college buddy of mine who lives in Montebello and I’m staying with her at the moment. After a day or so of surfing the net on her couch, that’s when I remembered about Technon. So I called Cherry because I wanted to see if she could help me get some connections around here.” “Looking to get into tech journalism?” I ask. “Not really. I wanted to see if Cherry had any contacts regarding companies that might be looking for flacks instead of hacks. Since my specialty is in televised journalism, I think I’d do better as a PR rep rather than a writer. Not that I’m bad at that, since I used to write some of the articles for my station’s website, but I think I want to try something different, you know?” “Well, I think Cherry forgot your meeting, because she’s in New York this week and next, talking to investors.” I go over what I know and as I do, I can see the smile fade from Jess’ face. I think she genuinely thinks I don’t want to help her because of what happened, which is far from the truth. I would say she should know that, but then again, her trust in guys has got to be low thanks to that ex of hers. “Great, just great. She’s the only real connection I had out here, and I really don’t want to move eastward. I mean, I’ve got some friends who work on for stations out on the East Coast, but I’m really more of a Western kind of girl, you know?” I open my mouth to say something, but she cuts me off fast. “Look, North…I know what you’re going to say. It was my fault that I trusted Alan, and while I don’t hate all guys for getting screwed over, I don’t want you to feel responsible for my problems. It’s something that I need to do for myself, just like moving out here was something that I needed to do. Honestly, I would have moved here even if you didn’t live here already.” She flashes a smile and it’s the first genuine one I’ve seen on her face today. “So you can tell your girlfriend that you’re perfectly safe.” I laugh at that. “Look, I already told her about what happened and she actually laughed about the whole thing,” I tell her. “What happened to you shouldn’t have, and you reacted like anyone would – that’s not your fault.” “Well, to be fair, you are a good kisser.” “TMI, Jess. In any case, while Cherry might not be able to give you a hand right now, I think I might have a contact for you, and one that would be right up your alley, too.” “Really?” “Yeah. Let me make a call and I’ll get it set up. You free for tonight?” As Moon pores over Jess’ resume, I suddenly get the feeling that what I’ve done can be classified as a Really Bad Idea™. I mean, at the time, it seemed like a good idea; after all, it would give Moon a chance to step away from the practice for Pacific War that’s going down at the Planet, and if Jess is interested, the two of them could tour the construction that’s going on for Black Alicorn. But now, here at Ruby’s, I’m beginning to think that maybe putting the two together is the exact opposite of two great things that go great together. So I pop another fry into my mouth and wait for whatever boom my dearest love is going to drop on this poor girl. The situation is needlessly tense, if you ask me, but then again, I’m the one who arranged this shindig, so ultimately, if anything, this is pretty much my fault. Right now, Jess is looking at Moon with a mixture of…really, I can’t tell, go fig; as for my girl, she’s too busy reading the resume up and down and back again. I get that since Jess is an outside recommendation (and especially since I’m the one recommending her) that she wants to be sure that she’s the best fit for the job. Of course, I could be wrong about that and it could just be that Moon is sizing up yet another opponent. I keep telling her I have eyes for no one but her, but my dearest lady can be one jealous mare at times. Yup, mare. I got used to that in the nearly two years we’ve known each other. That’s already one advantage that she has over everyone else: familiarity. When two people love each other, they’re completely focused on the kisses, the sighs and all the fun stuff that goes with it. But from my time with Rachel and my time now with Moon, it’s really familiarity that builds relationships. True love is when you’re not afraid to show the ugly and worst sides of yourself to the one you love. It was Rachel that taught me that and I’ve taken it to heart with my relationship with Moon. Ironically, as I think about it, that’s probably why (in addition to everything else) Destiny and I would never click. She’s all about this perfect image of me, if Moon is right. She’s afraid to show her ugly facets, whether it’s her real name, the fact that she clearly dyes her hair and gets a booth tan, or anything like that. She’s obsessed with perfection and perfection isn’t a way to know other people – it’s a mask we wear for social acceptance. But right now, Destiny isn’t my problem. Hoping this doesn’t turn into a metaphorical bloodbath, however, is. “So….” Moon says, looking up from the resume and adjusting her glasses several uncomfortable minutes later, “You realize that if you take this job, you’re probably going to be in a very seat-of-your-pants situation. I wouldn’t even know what a communications director for a game company does, and while I can put you in touch with some of the folks I do know who would do it, I’m sure even they’re just as likely to say the job involves juggling chainsaws blindfolded.” “Yup. I’ve been looking at some of the game sites on social media out there. Wow, some of these guys need to do their job, and some of them clearly aren’t getting paid enough. I would take it that we’d have to hit the ground running?” “Well, right now Renaissance is running the Project Anateus communications and you’ll be taking that over. At the same time, we’ve also guaranteed as part of our agreement with the Vector Vixens that we’ll be handling their communications during the year of the turnover. It should also give you more than enough practice.” “Seems fair enough. I’m not worried about being thrown in the deep end of the pool,” Jess tells her. “I could tell you some serious war stories about some of the things that I’ve had to deal with during my time in Reno but suffice to say that I’ve been around the block a few times.” Moon smiles. “And I’m sure you’ll be around a few more.” She offers her hand. “So, when can you start?” I let go of a breath I hadn’t even realize I’d been holding. Looks like the apocalypse can be put off for another five minutes. Instead, as we head home, I’m treated to a pouting Moon. “I’m hurt that you actually thought I was going to hurt your girlfriend, North,” she chides me. I remind her, “Um…aren’t you my girlfriend?” and she laughs at the whole thing. “No, I’m your fillyfriend. We made an agreement to trade you off on alternating days and weekends. I get to keep you on holidays in the middle of the week and you get to go with whoever has the weekend if a holiday falls on a Monday or Friday.” I look at her in silence for a second before she laughs again and adds, “Gotcha.” “Oh, and for a second, I thought you were sending me out to stud.” “You should know by now that no matter how many girls you’re building for this non-harem of yours, you only have one girl to keep busy,” she coos. “Girl this time?” “Always your girl, North. I’m always your girl.” Author's Note Don't forget - the TVTropes page could use a little love, folks!
twenty. she. no ka oi.View Onlinehe. she. we.twenty. she. no ka oi.In the Honolulu Convention Center, the flags above fly in the breeze of the climate control, evidence of a dozen nations that are represented here to fight. The music booms and the OLED lights flicker in a syncopated dance, and the audience shouts in delight in several tongues. It feels like the world is watching – and given that in more than a few cases, this is being broad- or narrowcasted, to some degree, it is. I will miss this world. This has been my battleground, my temple, my sanctum – my world. This is where I have been goddess and princess, ruling with both iron fist and righteous rule, dispensing virtual justice as necessary, inspiring others, and having my name called out by adorants of all shapes and sizes. In the corner of my eye, I can see North. He’s my strength, my serenity, the reason I am what I am now. To think that I, a literal alien goddess from another dimension, would find such bliss and happiness with a normal human man. He’s far more than I will ever be, and I have no qualms about admitting that to anyone. I mean, even other girls apparently seem to agree, though I know at the end of the day, my honey only has eyes for me. “And now the moment you’ve been waiting for: the Grand Finale of the tournament! In the red corner, representing Team IW Arena Acid – Dreamerbaby!” I watch as my opponent runs down the ramp she’s been given. She represents Infernoware, a Hong Kong-based company that’s been putting out a lot of new peripherals as of late. Their company-owned team, Arena Acid, has been pretty shameless about trying to woo top players away by paying them quite a bundle; they even propositioned Brenda, but she opted to stay with the Vixens. I don’t know about the quality of their gear, as I’ve never used it, but I’ve heard mixed things about it. Besides, between my contract with Mythware, I don’t use anything but their stuff and I like their gear in any case. About my opponent, however, I have heard plenty of things about. Mingming Fei, goes by the handle Dreamerbaby. Born in China, raised in San Jose. Holds dual US and Chinese citizenship, but per interviews, considers herself completely American. Even though she’s only 19, she’s got an impressive win-streak. Unlike most gamers, she tends to be an all-arounder like me. “And in the blue corner, representing the Vector Vixens – Nightmare Moon!” I walk down my ramp, looking at those who have paid attention to me this past year, doing as I always do, shaking hands, giving high-fives and fistbumping everyone I can down the line. These people have paid attention to me for the past year, and I owe them so much for my career. I have my “show magic” going on, that little glistening, my “reptilian contacts” and my trademark leather jacket on and giving all of them smiles as I move past. Hard to believe that I’ve only been at this a year and now I’m retiring. It makes me melancholy about it all, but as a human – or at least pretending to be – I live on borrowed time. At “twenty-five”, I’m “old” and while I’m constantly mentally putting quotation marks around just about every part of my life, it’s at least my life. Not Luna’s, not Celestia’s, not even the old Nightmare Moon. None of them would understand this and none of them would care about it like I do. As we reach the center stage, I look at the brand new ALLS HX2 unit that’s laid out before both of us. Above are the screens that will be presenting the climactic battle between the two of us. And this will be a battle, certainly; I rarely play Under Night In-Birth Exe:Late [st], but this is a mainstay game for her. As we reach the stage, both of us look at one another. I offer my hand to her. “Best of luck to you.” In turn, she gives me a soft smile and says in a soft voice, “I suppose I will need some of that luck, your highness.” I keep the smile on my face, but it’s her words that catch my immediate attention. I silently cast a spell and I can immediately see the slight flicker of green magic that envelopes her like a translucent shell. She’s a changeling and strong enough that she can use magic. She doesn’t seem to be casting any now, so I doubt she’s cheated her way to the top. Besides, HIVE would definitely take a jaundiced eye towards that kind of behavior. Well, with the word from the judges, I take my seat at the console and prepare to do what I do best, even if for the final time. I am a goddess. I will miss my temple. Thirty minutes later, it’s done and I can’t help but feel a pang of pain at what I’ve lost. I barely pay attention to the cheering crowds, who have welcomed my victory…but it’s my last one. After this, it’s over. I’ll be just a business owner and retired gaming girl. But as I said earlier, this is my life – no other alicorn’s. Dreamerbaby comes over and offers her hand again. “That is some impressive stick moving!” she says, and I can’t detect any trace of subtext. With changelings, even the Earth ones, there almost always is. I blame Molloy for making me look at things that way. “Thanks,” I reply, taking her hand and shaking, then putting my arm around her as we wave to the crowds. She’s going to be the future of this, and I represent the fading past, so may as well give a boost to the next generation, right? I mentally roll my eyes. Even if I was the age I’m supposed to be, there’s only a six-year difference, and yet I’m old hat. Sexist, yeah, but that’s a lot of things on this Earth – institutionalized things that they just naturally didn’t shift over to as well as they could. I doubt anyone’s at fault, really, just the institutionalization of something creeping in and by the time anyone really thinks of it, it’s calcified. The same thing happened back in Equestria before my time between the tribes and I have to wonder if any of it even still exists nowadays. Eh, not my problem. “I’ve been asked to deliver a message,” Dreamerbaby tells me in a soft voice. “9PM tonight, the Hoku Lounge.” I smile and nod just enough so that she gets that I caught the message, though it would be impossible for me to miss at this point. I mentally send a message to North because I figured he’d already made plans and I would hate for him to have to give them up…which I already know we’re going to have to do. The moon is high over the sky as we reach our destination, one of Honolulu’s poshest restaurants on the corner of River and Beretania. On the street, there’s a bronze plaque commemorating the Oka Fong Building, the original structure that used to be here before a tragic fire took place a few years back. In any case, the site has been renovated and from what North apparently looked up, the Hoku Lounge has been practically credited with the “renaissance of Honolulu’s Chinatown”, having received plaudits from the mayor. Reportedly, the restaurant is also a favorite dining location of the governor as well if the Star-Advertiser is to be believed. In any case, we’re currently dressed to impress and, if nothing else, enjoying a night out on my victory. I suspect that North has something else in mind, and I can’t help but wonder what it is. “You look good tonight,” he tells me. He’s dressed casually, blazer, buttoned shirt and slacks, probably way too formal for Honolulu if I recall the airline magazine I read on the way over, but it’s the Hoku, so…. “What, I don’t look good normally?” I tease. I’m wearing a nice little black dress that I genned up on the suggestion of others. I know I look fantastic right now and I poured magic into all it was worth for it. And if the looks I got while we got here are any indication, mission accomplished. Granted, I only want one guy to look at me like that, but a girl likes to be appreciated. “Do I need to answer that?” he tells me. I simply squeeze his arm in reply. Have I mentioned how much I love him? As we arrive at the door, this guy about the size of a small building steps out of our way and opens the door for us. For starters, he’s not dressed like the restaurant staff here. Secondly, I’ve seen Arturia and Pumpkin’s gun bulges enough times to recognize one when I see one. HIVE security? They’re clearly taking this seriously – is the leader of HIVE that much of a concern? “Reminds me of a luncheon I got invited to for retired Secret Service officers,” North admits as he walked past. “It was an article I did for GQ and most of it was just old guys bragging, but yeah, they carried their pieces and looked like brick walls even for their age, so I get what you’re thinking.” We walk right up to the front desk and immediately it’s clear that this was all planned. “Right this way, if you please, Your Highness, Sir North,” a cute local girl says to us, ushering us in a particular direction. A quick look with my magic indicates that she’s completely human, but given that she knew who we were, either meant that someone had told her, or she was tied to HIVE somehow. At last, after being ushered through a tasteful display of lush indoor plants, various Japanese-style umbrellas of various colors and dark-stained wood, we arrived at our destination, a private room. It likely wasn’t necessary, given that the whole of the restaurant was empty, but clandestine organizations don’t remain clandestine if they don’t act like it. So as we stepped into the private room, the two guards carrying the metal wands to search for listening devices looked at us briefly before a third person whispered in their ear and the two backed off. Guess they weren’t informed as to who I was. “Welcome, Your Highness. And Sir North. It is a distinct pleasure having the two of you meet me here.” I look at the person seated across the table from me. She looks…well, let’s just say that if my looks were closer to my actual age, I would hope to look that good. She’s ballpark in her seventies, but with a minimum of wrinkles and only a few strands of gray in her brunette hair. Her smile is infectious and from the way she carries herself, she seems more like a den mother than the leader of a global conspiracy. But hey, I’m sure there’s probably weirder things in this world, even more bizarre than me. She offered her hand. “Dr. Sarah Goodspeed. Director of the Hampstead Institute, as well as…well, I’m quite sure you know the second part, my lady and lord.” She got up to curtsy, but I wave it off; she’s older than me – well, physically, anyway – and I’m no longer really interested in standing on ceremony. Instead, I offer my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Goodspeed.” She takes it and her hand feels oddly colder than the average human’s. Is it because of her age, or the air conditioning? “Sarah, if you please. I’m not hung up on my title, Princess.” “Please, call me Moon, if you would, then – it’s the name I use here on Earth. “And please, call me North,” he says in turn. And then, like clockwork, his journalist instincts kick in – I can practically see it in his eyes by now. “And I’m somewhat familiar with your work, Sarah – aren’t you one of the foremost lepidopterists in the world?” Despite her age, she’s blushing. North’s charm strikes again. “You flatter this old lady, North. It’s a shame that I’m not a few decades younger, or perhaps….” She flashed a smile and left it at that; apparently North’s not the only one pouring on the charm here. “Well, perhaps I could trouble you for an interview for my website later?” he asks. “I’d be delighted. In between my time working with the Institute and HIVE, I’ve been peer reviewing this delightful little monograph on the extended ranges of some fluttershy species. Perhaps I can elucidate on that for your readers?” It’s when I hear that word that it hits me: while I’m no expert on rhopalocerids myself, I do know enough that here on Earth, it’s only a myth that butterflies used to be called flutterbys. But in Equestria, they are; in fact, the non-magical ones are called flutterbys and the magical ones are called fluttershies; it’s only when referring to them as a whole group do we call them butterflies. And then I realize that even though I wasn’t back in Equestria for that long, Sarah, as far as I can tell, isn’t speaking a dialect of English that I’m familiar with. Or rather, she’s not speaking a dialect of English that, as far as I know, is native to this world. I’ll bet my horns and wings that her accent, her use of some words, and such…she’s not speaking English at all – she’s speaking Equish. Granted, by some cosmic coincidence that I’m not privy to, both English and Equish are practically the same, with some obvious changes to certain words here and there. But if I’m right and she’s speaking Equish, then…. As if I’d figured out some grand mystery, the woman gives me a smile. “Unlike the rest of the Earthborn, I am a true-blooded changeling, Princess,” she tells me. “I was caught in a dimensional rift some sixty-odd years ago as a drone in Manchester, England; by absolute luck I ended up in the home of a then-senior member of HIVE. Realizing what I was, they immediately helped me acclimate to this world, gave me a new identity and in turn I started to work with them because of the concern they had about Throwbacks – while I am still technically just a drone, I have had enough experience with magic that I’ve been able to deal with some issues. Eventually, I rose to become the leader of both the Institute and HIVE, because even though I was not born human, I feel as if I am a part of them now. It has been, all in all, a good life.” She smiled wistfully. “But I must admit: I never thought I would see another soul from our world again and I certainly never thought it would be one of the alicorns.” “Then you know….” “I know the legends of the Earthborn are incorrect? Yes, I do, but alas, it’s hard to change centuries of ingrained belief, combined with the fact that we have no proof that anything other than changelings have come along. I guess either it was luck of the draw, or your sister has less control over preventing rifts than we expected.” I say nothing; I’m long over my issues with Celestia, I lie to myself, but that’s not what’s the deal here. “Well, in any case, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I doubt you wanted to meet me just to set up an interview with my boyfriend.” “I’m afraid you’re absolutely correct, Moon. I wished to meet you to discuss certain matters as quickly as possible. I don’t have much time left, and once I was notified of your existence, I felt it paramount to speak with you before it was too late.” I didn’t like those words, as calmly as they were said. “Forgive me, Sarah, but you look as healthy as could be. So why would you say you don’t have much time left?” “I have lived as a human being for all these years, with the sparse magic of this world and without the benefit of biology to fall back on. Thus, I have had a generally shorter lifespan than the Earthborn. So, it would be natural that I wouldn’t live as long. But a couple of years ago, I had a medical checkup and…well, the prognosis isn’t good.” She paused before saying, “I’ve been afflicted with the Black Death, I’m afraid.” I know what that is, but before I can say anything, North interjects. “Bubonic plague? But even at your age, it shouldn’t be an issue – there’s a vaccine for it.” “Oh, my dear boy, perhaps that is for humans, but the Black Death I am referring to is the same one that affects butterflies on this world – it is part of the reason I study them. It is caused by a virus known as the nuclear polyhedrosis virus and in butterflies, it desiccates them and turns them into black mummified shells of themselves, hence the name. In changelings such as myself, however, it causes a reaction very much like cancer, and equally as incurable. Thankfully, the grand majority of the Earthborn are immune, though on occasion those with magical abilities will be afflicted.” “How long do you have left?” I ask. I already hate broaching the subject, but if it is serious enough to warrant her wanting to speak with me, then I must treat it with the severity it is due. “Perhaps a year at most; I suspect more like months – truth be told, the reason I look so healthy is just the sheer amount of healing magic being used on me for my sake, but as you know even magic cannot overcome time or inevitability. You know, I worry about my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren – it wasn’t that long ago that my husband passed and now they must worry about me as well. But that is nothing you should worry about, Moon. Instead, please hear my request.” A few minutes later, after she’s finished, I’m at a loss for words and I don’t know how to respond. So I say nothing, instead deciding to just focus on small talk and enjoying dinner. But the meal, widely considered to be the best in Hawaii, tastes like ash in my mouth and the pineapple wine, a delicacy made on Maui, feels like sandpaper. I don’t know what to say at all. I bet Celestia would know, and the thought galls me. I thought I’d gotten over that. Hours go by and while I can’t say I didn’t have a fun time, I can’t also say that I did. The discussion with Sarah was pleasant and friendly and maybe in another time, we could have been close friends. But unfortunately, as the hours wore down and her own age caught up to her, her great-granddaughter – who turned out to be none other than Dreamerbaby – came to escort her back to the guest villa they’d rented for her out by Diamond Head. Fei asks us to consider what Sarah has asked and while I demure the answer, I know that North is already thinking about it. And with that, we thank everyone for the pleasant night and decide to head back to our hotel. Instead, we opt to park out by the natatorium and take a walk on San Souci Beach. The moon above is glistening like a pearl and the waters out in the distance lap gently against the shore, creating a simple and pleasant murmur that would be hypnotic under different circumstances. “You’re quiet tonight,” I hear North tell me. “What, I thought I was pretty talkative, all things considered.” “Maybe to someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do, sure, but it’s not so much as what you said so much as how you said it.” I smirk; he has me so figured out by now, doesn’t he? “Oh, so you can comprehend the fathomless mind of a goddess?” “No, but I know my girlfriend’s habits well enough.” Touché. “What do you want me to say, North? You heard what she said! What she asked!” “I know. And it’s not like you to be so worried about it.” “Because I’m not Nightmare Moon!” I cry. “Or Princess Luna or any kind of princess at all! I’m just me! And I’m still trying to figure out who I am. I’m not ready for this.” I feel like I’m going to break apart. “I was so deluded when I thought I was Nightmare Moon, so…responsible, so ready to take on Celestia and usurp her throne. But now? No. A million times no.” “Moon, they need you.” “They don’t need me. They need….” I sigh; there’s no way I can deny this, especially not around North. “They need a leader, not me. They want Princess Luna. Maybe they’d even accept Nightmare Moon. But I’m neither. And now they want to swear fealty to me?” “It’s just a chair, Moon.” “No, it’s not! You saw how they deferred to Sarah – they treated her like an empress, or a high queen or…I’m not even sure what the term is, because I’m not a changeling. And now Sarah is asking me to become the leader of HIVE! To become the Earthborn changelings’ queen! I’m not a queen!” “Well, I’ve always thought of you as my queen, if that helps.” “Not helping.” I sit down on the sand, letting the waves lap over my feet; he takes off his shoes and quickly joins me. In theory we’re probably ruining some decent clothing, but I can always fix that with magic. Fixing this, however, is going to take a lot of work. And I mean a lot of work. I mean, seriously. How did I ever delude myself into thinking I was some kind of mare who could do everything? Yes, I have divine powers, but I don’t have a divine origin. And I don’t consider myself Nightmare Moon anymore – I’ve grown out of that fantasy. So what gives me the right to make the decision for forty million people on this world? The number is astounding: forty million known individuals of changeling ancestry – and those are just the known ones. I remember seeing on Reddit once that one out of every seven people on this planet is a descendant of an ancient warlord known as Ghengis Khan. Aside from thinking about how that came about, the numbers of “Earthborn”, as Sarah called them, are still staggering: forty million is the approximate population of California. Practically its own nation as far as, well, everything is concerned. I don’t know how big Equestria’s population is right now, but I’m willing to bet, given what I recall of pony natures, that it’s probably waaaaaaay smaller than forty million. Hell, there are eight billion humans alone on Earth – that would probably make Celestia’s brain fry just thinking about it. I know it’s made me think twice! For the first time in a while, I feel like the world is crushing me. I used to be so brave, so sure that I could handle something like this – all I had to do was defeat Celestia and Everything Would Be Perfectly Fine™. I was such a deluded filly back then, and while I can probably run something like my own company or the Vector Vixens, a fucking nation’s worth of people? I can feel North’s fingers on my chin as he raises my head to look at him eye to eye. “Moon, everything’s going to be okay. Even if you say no, it’s not like our life is going to change. But I see what Sarah’s getting at. HIVE was created because they were afraid that monsters would come from their line and that humanity would turn against them. She’s not human, but they chose her because of that very reason – she understands what it’s like to not completely fit in on Earth and to help those who would go through the same issues. And now she’s looking at you because you understand it more than anyone else.” “But I don’t understand.” “I think you do. I remember a haughty, vainglorious alien that came to my house, who quickly turned into a shy and afraid mare. Who worked her way towards comprehending her new home and forging a new life for herself, free from the shackles of the past, until she found a new way of life, one that was hers.” I feel the touch of his lips on mine and I can’t help but respond. We trade loving blows for a few seconds before he reluctantly pulls away and adds, “This isn’t something that Nightmare Moon or Princess Luna can do. This is something that only Selene DeLune can do.” I look at the moon once more, imagining it in my mind as the one I remember from Luna’s time before she became afflicted. It was so barren, so empty and void, just a gray work with a few craters and none of the dark regolith seas that mark Earth’s own Luna. A blank slate, just like I was. And I took that blank slate and made my own life.” I laugh slightly. “Okay. I’ll do it. I don’t know if I can be what they want me to be, but I know I don’t want to be something someone else has in mind.” I love North for everything he’s done, even things like this, when he knows me better than I do myself. I don’t think I could have made it on this world without him and I hope our lives never change. “Well,” he says with a grin, “What if I have something in mind myself?” “Oh? Like what, me becoming queen of the changelings and you becoming my prince consort? I don’t think I’d mind that. Of course, we’d need to be married, technicalities and the like.” “I think I can fix that.” And suddenly he gets in front of me and kneels before me like a knight of old promising himself to his liege. But it’s the next thing he does, producing a small box from his pocket, that catches my attention – and perhaps not so much the box, as what’s inside it. And then he utters the words I have both wanted him to say and that I never thought anyone – or anypony, really – would ever utter to me. Words that perhaps Celestia has heard – she does have that daughter of hers, after all – and ones I know Luna will never hear, as she’s too shy and retiring a mare to ever chase her dreams and gain a stallion worthy of her. I know I have – I’ve found mine. And as he slides the ring onto my finger and I say yes, I know at this point in my life, whatever that life is, this is a more worthwhile thing than any conquest that Nightmare Moon could have had, than any jealous dream Luna held. That this is my own to cherish and hold forever. I already knew I had no plans to go back to Equestria ever again, but this, strangely enough, seals the deal. I’m no longer an alicorn who can become human as needed. At this point, I’m a human that used to be an alicorn. And moreso, a woman – or mare, or whatever – that has the love of the greatest guy in the world, a treasure more priceless than the Elements of Harmony or the Scepter of the Skies or anything that sits in the dusty vaults of the palace that Celestia and Luna reside in. Ladies, that’s your treasure and you can keep that shit. My treasure is the man I’m going to spend forever with. Author's Note And someone said this is dead? News to me.
one. he. la llorona.View Onlinehe. she. we.one. he. la llorona.one. he. la llorona. My name is North. North Shores, to be specific. Yeah, sounds like a fake name, I know, but my parents are Drake and Andria Shores, and they met at the class of a college professor with the last name of North, hence my name. I’m 28, live in a small, isolated community northeast of Los Angeles called Big Bear. I have a degree in journalism and while I have a usual writing gig for Technologix, I mainly freelance for some other magazines here and there; that’s mainly the fault of my mother, who’s a big-time columnist for the Los Angeles Times. Most of the time I love my job, though sometimes I wish I’d inherited my father’s medical skills. Generally, I freelance because I can work from home, and frankly, I like the solitude of living where I do – and yes, there’s a story behind that. I’m sure several of you are probably wondering how I can live where I do, like I do and how I can afford it. Truth is, I wish I didn’t have that capability. You see, I’m also two things in addition to what I mentioned earlier: I’m wealthy…and a widower. The fortune comes courtesy of my late wife, Rachel. She’s been gone for three years now and my heart still feels ripped out to this day. We met when we were both going to college at USC, me via a scholarship, and her on her own dime – result of a trust fund, left to her by her parents. She lived with her uncle up in Redding, right up until she came to LA, met me, got happy together and got married. Well, he didn’t like that; never did, actually – he just assumed that when she got done with her degree, she’d move back to Shasta County and…fuck, I have no clue. I don’t want to know. In any case, I wasn’t home when the murder happened; God, I wish I was. Long story short: I inherited everything from Rachel, a trust fund worth tens of millions…and not a single fucking dime went to that bastard, who’s now sitting up in San Quentin for the rest of his days. As for me, I dumped our place in Garden Grove – it was nothing but memories and blood to me – and beat a retreat to Big Bear. Hell, I would have moved elsewhere – Montana, Virginia, Alaska, Vermont, really, anywhere else but SoCal – if it wasn’t for the fact that my parents asked me to stay in the general area. So, yeah, I’m rich. I’d rather have Rachel back, though. When I close my eyes and see her smile that was always just for me, to smell the jasmine-scented shampoo in her strawberry-blonde hair and to see those bright, loving brown eyes flecked with green…it…it just tears me to shreds inside. I know I’ll never have her back and none of the millions of dollars that I got in return will ever replace it. So instead, I locked myself away in a bungalow, just me and my junk, my memories and keepsakes of Rachel, and that’s it. I only leave the house to shop or do errands. My parents and little sister are concerned for my well-being, to put it mildly. My neighbors probably think I’m a recluse or a freak – I’m not sure they’re wrong. This is my life…and I’m pretty sure I’m in Hell. My footsteps crunch on the snowy ground as I step out of my car. I’m back home after spending New Year’s at my parents. As usual, that sucked – same thing it’s been for the past few years: My parents tell me that they know I still love Rachel but that I need to move on, and various friends and/or family present pretty much just ape the same shit. Then to make matters worse, Carrie brings home a college friend of hers in the hopes that A., she’ll do a good deed by fixing her big brother up with one of her buddies, and B., that she’ll help me get over my sorrow by marrying one of her friends. Don’t get me wrong: I love my little sister dearly for looking out for me, but there’s a sort of gulf of maturity between me and her – and thus, her friends – that I got catapulted over when I came home to see my wife’s bloody and maimed corpse. Tiffany, or Cassie, or this year’s entry, Raven…they’re cute young things, just eager and pleasing enough that I could probably have them in bed before the hour’s up, but…my mind doesn’t go there anymore. My heart can’t connect since there’s nothing left of it. As I enter the house, I flick on the switch in the foyer, expecting to see the fruits of Southern California Edison’s labors: light, heat, warmth. I presume I’ll see the couches and furnishings that Rachel and I chose back then; the shelves bristling with books, both mine and hers; the videogames, CDs, and other relics of a youthful love that never had a chance to mature into a life together. Instead, I’m treated to cold, dark nothingness. For a second, I breathe a sigh of relief at that; the shadows serving as a balm for my soul, even if only for a moment. But obviously something’s gone wrong here. Maybe a tree downed a power line or something like that, or maybe it’s a repeat of when I first moved here and they accidentally shut off my power. Wanting to get it solved, I reach into my pocket for my phone, so I can call SCE’s emergency line. As I bring its face to mine, it’s to my surprise that the phone is as equally blank as the house. Great time for my phone to brick itself, I think. I grumble about marching over to the neighbor’s place to borrow their phone when there’s a sudden, bright flash and a rainbow streak of color, as though someone set off fireworks in my living room. The pyrotechnics are quickly followed up by a sharp scream of pain and fear. My mind immediately races back to my nightmares about Rachel’s death, when the lights flicker back on, my phone returning to normal. As I hear the heat pumps come alive, I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I held, the vapor crystallizing briefly in the house before vanishing. After a few minutes, I get a grip on my overactive emotional state. Once I do, I think about any of the number of reasons this happened: Maybe there was an EMP, and my neighbor’s wife screamed in panic, except that it sounded as though it came from my house – Betty does have a pair of lungs on her, based on the occasional arguments she and Phil have. Or maybe the Prentice kid has his home entertainment system up too loud again; if that’s the case, I really hope his parents kick his ass. Or maybe someone broke in – if that’s the case, I knew I should’ve installed that alarm system. Grabbing an umbrella, I carefully walk into the house, ready to attack whatever’s coming my way. I just hope if that’s the case, he or she doesn’t have a gun. Or maybe it’ll be Russell, that fuck; maybe he broke out of San Quentin and came here to finish the job. If that’s the case, I will happily beat him to death and I don’t care what court convicts me. Ultimately, however, a quick and cursory check of the house reveals that there’s no one here but me. Wondering if I’m just too tired from the drive from Santa Monica and my imagination got the better of me, I check the house one more time just to be on the safe side, then when I’m sure it’s clear, I make a note to have the local alarm company come in and do an install. I then let myself fall into sleep, hoping that for just one night since I lost Rachel four years ago that the nightmares don’t come. But they do, and I wake up screaming my head off at four in the morning, sheets drenched with sweat. Burying my face in my hands, I cry unashamedly for the hell my life has become. If there’s a God out there, I hope He or She or Whatever realizes I can’t take much more of this. It was two days later when she appeared. I was typing up my final draft of an article due that Friday when I heard the soft creak of the wooden boards that make up the floor in the living room. There’s a particular board that squeaked like all hell, but to get that sound out of it, one needed to apply more than a little bit of pressure, the kind made by stepping on it with more than a pound of weight. Wondering if somehow a non-hibernating animal got into the house – last thing I need is a raccoon shitting in my closet – I stepped out of my office to look down the hall at the source of the noise. Standing in the middle of the hallway, with what seemed to be a look of utter bewilderment on its face, was a quadruped of some sort. If I had to guess, I’d say superficially, it looked like some sort of horse – like a pony, specifically. Of course, that was a very rough guess, given that no horse I knew of looked like what I was seeing before me: Its coat was solid black – not black as in dark, as most animals tended to be in order to blend in with the night, but actual sable black, like keytone in ink. Its size was about the same as my parents’ Great Dane, but still smaller than the average pony, if pictures I’d seen over the years were anything to go by. And if that wasn’t weird enough, its billowing, flowing – smoky? – violet mane and tail made it look even more unnatural than it already did, as did the horn sticking out of its forehead. This was made even more amazing a second later as it nervously fluttered black wings. I remembered enough from my sister’s Lisa Frank days to understand the concept of a unicorn or a pegasus, but this one seemed to be both at once. And as if to add a final touch of absurdity on the whole thing, it wore armor of some sort, weathered ebon barding apparently fashioned from some black metal that glistened like obsidian. The creature stared at me – looked at me with a pair of beautiful aqua-hued eyes, orbs that were also, strangely, serpentine in nature. As it finally realized it was gazing right at me, it gasped with a feminine-sounding tone. I say “feminine”, because the sound was not a whinny, nor a neigh nor any of the sounds you’d expect to come from the muzzle of a horse. No, the sound was that of a woman, suddenly caught off-guard and placed in a moment of pure and utter terror, as though she came face-to-face with a monster, an odd thought if there ever was one. I rub my eyes and blinking to make sure I’m not hallucinating because I can’t believe what I’m seeing – and in that time, whatever it was I saw vanished, as though it had never been…save for a few black feathers that had been left behind. Walking over, I pick one up just as the others start turning into motes of black light and then nothingness. The one I’m holding, however, remains behind as though it proved the creature’s reality, but then that too disappears into nonexistence. By now, I’m wondering if I had too much to drink, or considering that I’d only had one beer today, maybe not enough, when a sad, sorrowful sobbing starts to echo within the house. The sound’s everywhere and nowhere at once, sourceless, as if within the walls of the house itself. Perhaps the house is haunted, and I never noticed it before. An outside observer would probably say it’s haunted anyway, since I practically never leave home. At this point, the most animal part of me, the fight-or-flee portion of my mind, is just telling me that I need to run far and fast; whatever I just saw was clearly not of this world and I’ve no idea if I’m safe. But the more logical part of my brain counters with the fact that no monster would cry as this creature was doing. In truth, hearing her soul-rending wailing made me wonder if the creature felt as though it was in Hell, a sensation I’m all too familiar with. A smarter man would probably run and find the nearest priest or rabbi or whatever in order to exorcise the house. But I’m not really religious and considering I’m not sure what I saw, I probably wouldn’t be believed anyway. And if my panic instinct isn’t going to kick in, then maybe it’s time to do something phenomenally stupid instead. Calling out, “Excuse me, but…are you okay? You’re not harmed, are you?” I make my move. I have no idea if the beast can understand me, but I try to make my voice as calm and reassuring as possible. But as I stand there, offering succor and assistance, I hear nothing but silence. Finally, unable to do anything else, I tread back to my office as the crying begins once more. After a quick email to my editor that my article was going to be late due to personal circumstances, I immediately start applying my Google-Fu for all its worth. The first part brings me to an article on Wikipedia detailing something called a winged unicorn, that was rarer in heraldry and mythology than its counterparts the unicorn and pegasus, but that it was far more common nowadays in fantasy works. From that point, I jumped around the various domains and divisions of the internet, but while I saw plenty of imagery of winged unicorns, there was nothing at all like the strange creature I saw the other day. But it was the second part that chilled me: while searching regarding myths about crying, while I came across nothing about crypto-equines, I came across a website page that brought back old memories, an old Mexican legend I grew up with. The Weeping Woman by Joe Hayes This is a story that the old ones have been telling to children for hundreds of years. It is a sad tale, but it lives strong in the memories of the people, and there are many who swear that it is true. My maternal grandparents were from the old country, having come here to bring their children a better life. Hell, I remember my grandfather telling me and my cousins horror stories with gusto, frightening us until my grandmother would come out to the porch to chew him out. But me and my cousins loved it and the story we loved the most was that of La Llorona. Like many dark myths, it had been co-opted into modern horror, but the story I was reading on the net was not of that dark version, but instead a melancholy tale of loss and tragedy, of a great error committed and a price paid that was both apt and yet far outstripped the original crime. Like the ghostly woman in the story before me, the sobbing through my house was not one of horror, but one of sorrow and regret – and if there was a fear to be had, it was of me. It was a fear of someone – not something, someone – being terrified beyond reason and suffering to the point of near-insanity, to where there was nothing left. I looked at the screen, then to the sound of the sobbing, and then my eyes drifted to a picture on my desk, of me and Rachel. We were both 21 then, two years before marriage…and four before her death. I look at the smiling, happy face and my heart wells again, but it’s the words on her T-shirt that catch my attention: In long, tall letters, it reads, WHAT WILL YOU DO TO MAKE THE WORLD SMILE? Getting out of my chair, I walk to the kitchen, where I quickly grab my lunch, two reheated slices of pizza that was left over from last night’s order. As the crying continues, a thought came to me: has she eaten? WHAT WILL YOU DO TO MAKE THE WORLD SMILE? my memory asks. Reaching back into the fridge, I pull out the salad that came free with the pizza – untouched, of course; Rachel always said I needed to eat more greens – and put it on the table. A second later, I put out a bowl of water, if only because I have no idea what else to put out in the way of drink. Setting it on the ground, I call out, “Look, I don’t know when the last time you ate was, but I hope this will be of help.” I have no idea what she eats, if she does at all. For all I know what I laid out is nothing but poison for the poor creature. But better to help than nothing at all, I convince myself as I head back to the office. Not long after, I heard sounds coming from the kitchen. I opted not to get up; for some reason, it seemed as though it would be better to give what I’d labeled as “La Llorona” some space. But one thing was for sure: the crying had stopped, and for a blessed moment, silence filled the house once more. I take the opportunity to throw on headphones and Jose Gonzales – because I always work better when listening to music – and get some work done, satisfied that I can at least look my wife in the eyes next time I gaze at her image in the picture. About an hour later, I take my dish and empty beer back to the kitchen. Surprisingly, the plastic salad container is in the sink – no way could she have known it was disposable – as well as the bowl. And on the table, there’s a piece of parchment – where did that come from? – on which something was written in far better penmanship than I’ll ever have: So her name is “Moon”, I thought to myself. Well, it’s less of a tongue-twister than La Llorona. Hours later, and after a long day of catching up on the article – managed to actually get it submitted on-time, yay for small miracles! – and a quick dinner of Fettuccini Alfredo, I sit down to unwind. Leaving some dinner out for Moon – microwaved a frozen eggplant Parmesan TV dinner that I bought by accident last month – I went into the living room to try to find something on Netflix or Steam to goof off with. Ultimately, however, nothing really catches my attention, so I decide to finish up reading one of the books that Rachel had always insisted that I read: Paradise Lost, a modern transliteration, as I hated wading through Ye Olde Englishe ande Whatevere Hade Tooe Manye E’s at the end. Deciding to play some music, I opted for classical, as I had no idea what, if any, music Moon was familiar with; besides, hopefully the old saying about music soothing the savage beast – or at least in this case, a wailing one. Of course, this turned out to be a bad, bad, bad idea, as it started her crying again. Damning myself for being a fool even though I didn’t know it would set her off, I spoke into the air once more, “Moon, I’m sorry if that hurt you. That was not my intention.” As a peace offering, I went back to the kitchen and broke out the Oreos and milk, noticing that she liked the eggplant Parm – guess I’ll have to buy more of that. Leaving the cookies and milk in bowls, I grab a glass and a few dunkers for myself, making sure that I got my chocolate milk ready for prime Oreo slammin’. I go back to the living room, turn off the Beethoven and switch to Junip – nothing like Jose to break the edge off things – but I find I can’t relax now. I’m feeling guilty about something I shouldn’t, and thinking that I’ve done more than enough damage, I just call it a night and head to bed. And as always, at four in the morning – the time of day the coroner’s report say that Rachel had been murdered – my nightmares begin again. —In my mind there’s blood so much blood the screaming the knife I have to stop the knife why did you kill her you bastard why did you take her away from me oh God I’m in He— And for the first time since it all began, there’s a flare of deep blue, pushing everything away as if it were just detritus to be swept away, and it’s replaced by the sounds of Beethoven’s 6th, the Pastoral, what I’d been playing earlier that evening. And then, within my mind, a soft, gentle and very feminine voice: We thank thee for the treats, though we imbibed the remainder of thine chocolate milk – wouldst thou be so kind as to replace it? And we hope to relieve thee of thine night terrors. We know much of Nightmares; we shan’t have our host afflicted with such as well. I wake up with a start. The room is empty, but I somehow get the feeling that Moon was just in here. I thought about looking throughout the house, but then deep blue fills my vision and suddenly I’m feeling extremely tired…. For the first night in years I think I managed to get a full night’s sleep. I’m having lunch with my brother down in Whittier. It’s his birthday and I promised; besides, with all the travel he does for his job, I really don’t get to see Don as much as I’d like. Unfortunately, someone already beat me to the punch. “So, what’s with you turning down the date that Carrie said she hooked up for you on Valentine’s Day?” Don says, mirth in his eyes. He was always a ladies’ man in school and kept that attitude, right up until he married some girl in Seoul while he was an exchange student there. Tae-Hee has worn him down over the years, and they’ve got a great pair of kids. And best of all, my sister-in-law doesn’t have a penchant for playing cupid. Now if Carrie would learn from that. In any case, Don’s looking at me for an answer. Well, may as well tell him the truth. “Destiny and I…we, uh, just didn’t, well, ‘click.’” He raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t…click?” I give him a lidded look. “Forward? Dude, five minutes into our date and she wants to know if I like it gentle or rough. Then when I looked at her slightly, she then says that she doesn’t go down on the first date. She would on the second, though.” Don blanched. “Seriously?” When I nod, he facepalmed. “Sad. I remember when you had to work for that sort of thing.” “I’ll take your word for that. In any case, I didn’t want to bring her home; I’d hate to see what happened if she ran into Moon—” Don then looks at me oddly. “Moon?” he repeats. Oh, shit did I say that out loud? The sudden catty look on my brother’s face is an indicator that yes, I did. He then looks at me and says, “Look, North, if you’re dating someone now, you can just admit it. I don’t think Carrie will be offended and frankly, sooner or later she’s going to run out of friends at her school – and knowing her, she’ll start throwing high school students at you.” “Moon’s just a friend,” I tell her. If that, I tell myself. He then gives me a serious look. “North…I know how much you loved Rachel. I thought of her like she was a kid sister, and she and Tae were really close. So I know how hard it is letting go. But all I’m going to say is that if you really care about this Moon girl, just…take it easy. Hell, I won’t even tell anyone we’re talking about this; I’ll let you tell the fams.” “Thanks,” I tell him. After all, what can I say? I’m not even sure why Moon is in my house or what purpose she serves, and until she talks to me or goes away, she’s a big, big question mark in my life, whether I like her there or not. “Moon? It’s North. Can we talk?” I feel dumb saying this as I walk into my house, expecting to be greeted by silence, as normal. While the tears have gone away, she still hasn’t officially appeared before me, leaving us in a strange sort of limbo. She’s gotten used to living here, if the blanket and pillow on the couch are any indication. Furthermore, in the process, I’ve learned a few things about her, indirectly: she’s educated, not too surprisingly – she’s gone through about half the library, and by the dog-eared condition of Rachel’s Old English version of Paradise Lost, Moon seems to take a huge interest in that book. She also likes videogames and plays them regularly – though she’s vanished a couple of times while I’ve tried to take a peek – and finally, after she kept driving my Steam numbers up, I just created a dedicated account for her. I also found that she had a massive sweet tooth, as evidenced by the nearly-instantaneous disappearance of a brand-new pint of chocolate-peanut butter ice cream in less than an hour after I’d purchased it. However, it hadn’t been entirely one-sided. She left me notes and explanations – apparently her species is not called a “winged unicorn”, but an alicorn, something that I thought technically was the term for the unicorn’s horn. She’s also, strangely, done some chores around the house – the place is cleaner, and I have no idea where the trash keeps going to. She also gave me a gift from afar: one time, when I couldn’t find a pen around the house because I needed to scribble up a note for her, five seconds later, an inkbottle and quills appear on the table just after I take my eyes off it. The quills are made from black feathers and I don’t need to guess where they came from. Most importantly – and I have no doubt that she’s somehow responsible – since the day she “moved in”, my nightmares ceased to be. Yet one thing I couldn’t seem to do was to get her to see me in-person (in-alicorn?). It was almost always notes or email, as if she was still somehow frightened of me. I continued to try to calm her down – where could she go that I knew of? – and assured her she was welcome to stay as long as she needed. Now, if I could only do something about getting her to talk to me.
three. he. holdfast.View Onlinehe. she. we.three. he. holdfast.three. he. holdfast. There’s something you should probably understand about alicorns right now. Never let a species that doesn’t wear clothing do your laundry. I know she meant well, but I’m staring at my bright pink underwear – which used to be white, by the way – and wondering why my favorite shirt is two sizes too small now. I toss the shirt in the items to be donated to Goodwill. Well, at least she’s trying…. “Moon, would you please come out? I have a present for you.” As always, nothing. I know she trusts me – she wouldn’t eat otherwise, and it’s obvious she likes me well enough, otherwise she would have left a long time ago. Or maybe she can’t leave? Maybe somehow she’s magically tied to this place? Yeah, right, I tell myself. Next thing I’m going to think is that she literally lived in the moon at one point. But that’s silliness for another time, and I have a particular kind of silliness that I need to deal with right now. I got her an iPod. Yeah, I know, dumb. But given the fact that since she learned how to operate the electronics in the house while I’m gone, half my CDs are missing, my subscription to eMusic doubled in cost, and the old boombox that I haven’t used since college suddenly found itself in the normally unused guest bedroom. I think I’d be miffed about it all if it wasn’t for the fact that A., I find it cute, B., she clearly needs the distraction, and C., I’d have a hell of a time explaining to my bank why I have fraudulent charges on my cards from purchases coming from my house – I can see that explanation right now: “No, officer, I didn’t make those charges, it was the cute little invisible black alicorn in my house. Why no, I didn’t plan on an extended stay at County/USC’s mental health wing – why do you ask?” I sit on the couch, waiting for her to come out, hoping that this time, just this one time, she’ll give me a chance. I mean, seriously, it’s not like I’m going to kick her out or anything. There’s gotta be seriously bad karma for making an alicorn homeless, right? After an hour, I give up, defeated. “I’ll…just leave it on the kitchen table,” I tell her. I have to get back to my article anyway; I promised Eddie that I’d have this thing done by Thursday. I walk over to the kitchen, set the box down on the table, then go into the fridge to grab a beer. Sure enough, she’s already gone through the two-liter bottle of Cherry Pepsi and I’m betting the rocky road I bought last night is also gone. Never thought that I’d ever meet anyone with a worse sweet tooth than mine! Heh, and Rachel always said that I had more sugar than blood in my veins. As I turn to face the table, I notice the bag from the Apple Store’s gone already. And before I can say something, I feel the slightest brush of feathers against my right hand. I look down, but there’s nobody there – but a soft voice behind me suddenly says, “We thank thee for the gift, Sir North.” And before I even bother to turn, I know she’s already gone. But turning my attention back to the table, I see a huge-ass gemstone, the kind that’s usually in a museum, protected by lasers and guards and Batman standing on the roof watching through his Batnoculars or something. It’s red, and I’m guessing it’s a ruby and…fuuuuuuuuuu…. Well, Mother’s Day is in a little over a week and I have no idea what to get Mom. Maybe I can have this made into a pendant for her? I grin at the look on Mom’s face when she sees the pendant. Oh, has this been a hell of a week. For starters, the gem Moon gave me turned out to be what’s called a fire ruby, a ruby with a golden asterism within it. It’s so freaking rare that this is only the fourth one known on Earth. Furthermore, the stone in itself is about sixteen carats – for comparison, the Burmese Ruby at the Smithsonian is twenty-three carats. And that’s not a fire ruby, by the way. First, the jeweler I brought it to tried to have me arrested – on the basis that it couldn’t be real, and if it was, it had to have been stolen. That took an hour of talking to local authorities about. Then, when I proved that it was on the up-and-up, the jeweler said he had a connection that would be willing to pay sixteen million dollars just for it. When he found out that I already have way more than that in the bank, he tried the “old fashioned” method – tried to replace it with a piece of glass and rip me off. Unfortunately for him, he’d been doing that to other clients enough that the Palm Springs Police Department had already been keeping an eye on him; that explained why the cops showed up so fast. Fortunately, I got my gem back and the detective I talked to just happened to recommend a trustworthy jeweler in Costa Mesa who could do the job. Hell, she ended up doing it all for just cost of materials, if she could cut off a tiny bit to use as a show piece; she promised it would be from the part she needed to cut anyway. Sure enough, she was as good as her word, and the remaining twelve carats are in Mom’s shaking hands right now and South Coast Jewels has a very expensive pair of ruby earrings that are for display only – and still worth a cool million on their own. Just seeing the look on my family’s face as Dad puts the necklace around Mom’s neck is worth it. My sister-in-law looks right at me and jokes, “You know, there’s no way Don’s gift is going to top this.” “There’s no competition, Tae,” I tell her with a straight face. I am soooooooooooooooooooooo going to owe Moon for this one. I really hope to make it up to her someday. I hear the explosions and the percussive booms that sound like a rave is being held in mid-air and I groan. It’s 4th of July and as usual, the city’s having its annual Blow Shit Up celebration with games and kids and fireworks and loud noise and a whole bunch of loud shit I really don’t want to deal with right now; hell, I’m guessing I’d probably make for simpatico with the Grinch right about now. Admittedly, when I was just a kid, I used to love fireworks and all that, but unfortunately, I live in the State of California, where someone in Sacramento decided that fun must be banned in favor of political correctness. And while some jurisdictions in the state allow fireworks, where I live isn’t one of them…nor is the People’s Republic of Santa Monica, where my parents reside. And since there were no fireworks at our home and going to watch other people make boom wasn’t something I really cared about, I told my parents that I had a bad cold and stayed home. Instead of working, I spent the day just watching movies, gaming and stuff, as well as hoping Moon would come out. And frankly, after an afternoon of lackluster gaming (seriously, I was expecting King of Fighters XIII to be better than this), I find that I’m bored and I just really wish she would trust me. I swear, having her living here and not coming out is like a couple in a really bad argument…and while Rachel and I had a few spats over the course of our time together, at least those ended up with us making up by the end of the night. With Moon, I really don’t know how things will go. Finally, I look at the clock and figure that I need to get some sleep – I’m driving down to San Diego tomorrow to do a lengthy interview, and the three-hour drive is already going to be hell on me. Figuring that she’s not going to come out – she even skipped dinner tonight, unusual for her – I just make my way to bed. A few minutes later, as I’m just on the verge of hanging out with Little Nemo in Slumberland, when I suddenly felt the sheets being pulled up slightly, followed by a warm form sliding in next to me. Two arms wrapped around me, reminding me of how Rachel and I always used to spoon while sleeping. But the difference this time was the warm, soft fur I felt against my face and the velvety black wing suddenly draping over me like a blanket. A contented sigh was sounded behind me, as though something felt safe and perfect. I stiffened in reaction: I hadn’t had anyone, much less anyone female, sleep in the same bed with me, not since Rachel – and here I was, now in the arms of someone not only female, but not even human! I felt a stab of shame and betrayal at my wife’s memory, but a second later I dismissed it as silly. I certainly had no intentions of doing anything with Moon; furthermore, she came to me, not vice versa, and I really doubt that she came with snu-snu in mind. More likely, she was in need of comfort, one of a more physical need this time, no different than all the times I’d comforted Carrie when she was a little girl and needed it. But as we lay there, curiosity got the better of me and I turned to look at the creature holding me. I think after all this time, I deserved to see the alicorn that embraced me, whether for good or ill. She’d removed her armor, but otherwise, she remained the same, though the calm look on her face showed no surprise at my presence. As I continued my inspection, I saw that, up close, whatever force or forces had created her, had made her as far from equine as humans were from the other primates. Hers was a lithe figure, almost reminding me of a whippet or some other sleek, swift creature. The black wing she draped around me was very similar to that of a raptor or other bird of prey, one of a simple-but-effective design made to knife her way through the sky with the greatest of ease. Her fur, from what I could feel, was soft and well-tended; though no insult was intended in my thoughts, it was at the care of a prize show animal’s. Perhaps a better analogy would be that of a woman who took pride in her appearance, which fit the demeanor for what little I knew of Moon. But the most curious thing about her was a stylized mark situated on her butt, or whatever it’s called on a horse-thing from another world. It was an image of a glowing – yes, I mean glowing, as in a soft blue – crescent moon against violet clouds. While it could serve as a tattoo or branding, it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It seemed unnatural and spooky, and yet on its own, it was a perfect semblance of her. Her head, surprisingly, didn’t look like that of a normal equine; it was a lot rounder and closer to that of a person than a horse’s, as though whatever forces created this beautiful creature decided she needed the space for a larger brain capacity. Her horn really wasn’t what one would think of as a traditional horn or antler; though it was grooved, it was the same hue as the rest of her body and covered with a soft, velvety fur, making it more, if anything, like a skull protuberance than anything else. As for her eyes, they weren’t set in the usual placement that prey animals had, but instead were forward-set like a human’s were. But the centerpiece was her billowy, smoky violet mane and the strange, twinkling star-like effect within. Curious, I reached out and touched it; my fingers sank into what felt like viscous oil or thick syrup, though I had to admit the feeling wasn’t altogether unpleasant. She seemed to coo at my touch, as though she enjoyed the sensation. As I somehow expected, she pulled me close and nuzzled me softly, clearly a feeling of affection, though if I remember correctly, to equines, it’s like a kiss. Needless to say that this was a situation that was both confusing as hell and just as easily comforting. And as my eyelids became heavy, I drifted off to sleep. I could have sworn that as I reached the demarcator from the waking world into the slumbering one, I thought I heard her voice utter, “We are glad to have thee as a friend, Sir North.” The following morning, I was up at five, an hour I haven’t been awake at since my college days. As I scooched from the bed, I was not entirely surprised to find that she was already gone. Annoyed by that – I thought for a second we’d had a breakthrough! – I throw myself into the bathroom for a little 4S: shower, shampoo, shave, and shine, as my Dad called it. Tossing on a suit, I gather up my gear for the long-ass trip to San Diego. I got up this early so I’ll have time to stop at Ruby’s in Newport Beach for breakfast; it’s simply the best place in SoCal, bar none. Plus, I absolutely hate eating in the car. So it was a huge surprise when I came down to see a cheese omelette, fruits and a steaming-fresh mug of coffee laid out for me, as well as a note: Touched, I sat down to eat. Needless to say, it was delicious, the best I’d ever had. I wanted to thank her, but she wasn’t present – or if she was, she was still somewhat afraid of me. I wish she wouldn’t be; in the months since she’s been here, my life’s been much better. I don’t have nightmares any longer and my life’s actually been improving. Maybe I just needed a roommate to take away the gloom and doom I’ve been foisting on myself since Rachel’s death, I dunno. I just wish Moon would trust me more. “C’mon, Eddie!” I shout over the phone at my editor. God, what a fucking ass – I still wish that Nash was the EIC, but noooooooooooooo he had to take that Senior Editor job over at Men’s Health and then management had to give us this Goddamn prick from Ireland whose previous job was the European editor for Ars Technica. BFD. “Look, you said I wasn’t going to have to attend SoutherNet this year!” “Hey, boyo, I’m understaffed, okay?” he says in that accent that seems to drive the girls at the office wild for some reason – glad I’m a remote writer. “Look, Derrick’s on holiday, Marie’s due to have her kid at any time and I have Jack attending the Sony conference in Honolulu. Only lad I have to do this is you!” “What about Nate?” I counter. “Guy lives in Nashville for fuck’s sake – he should be the one to go!” The line suddenly went dead quiet on that end; that was clearly all the answer I was going to get on that. “You are seriously going to owe me for this.” “Fine, fine, whatever – name your price in blood, for all I care…but I need someone there. I’ll have Sarah FedEx you the conference passes.” “Fine, I’m leaving!” I snarl into the phone, not even bothering to say goodbye. I’m pissed as hell that Eddie couldn’t get Nate to do his friggin’ job and for a moment, I wish these were one of those old-fashioned phones you could slam down to shut off, if only so I could blow some steam off. But instead, I suddenly hear the shattering of glass in the kitchen, followed by a very feminine gasp. Rushing into the kitchen, I see her – Moon, finally awake and present, standing in pile of broken plates that she was apparently removing from the dishwasher – wait, when did she start doing the dishes? There’s a horror-stricken look on her face and I don’t know what to say. And then to make things worse – she finally speaks. “Th-th-thou…art leaving?” she asked, as her eyes start to water up. I have no idea what to say at all. Part of me wants to be all cool and make some sort of suave, semi-funny statement, but I’m no comedian. Another part of my wants to irritably accuse her of picking now, when I’m in a bad mood to make her official appearance...but I’m a little too surprised for that to happen. Instead, I find my anger bleeding away along with my sense of humor as I’m looking at one frightened, shaking alicorn. “Look, I gotta go to Atlanta fo—” are the only words out of my mouth as I’m suddenly tackled at high-speed by a terrified and bawling alicorn. The fact that her horn isn’t poking out the other side of my body is something that’s going through my mind, at least until I feel my shirt being soaked from her tears. This isn’t what she was like when she first arrived; no, it’s somehow worse. Finally, after a few minutes, she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes and whispers a single sentence: “Please do not leave us.” She shudders, genuinely frightened of something. Maybe this could have been avoided months ago if she just come out when she first arrived back in January, and not in the middle of the blistering August heat. But that was then and she probably had her reasons for waiting until now. Still, I have to do something. I let my instincts take over, and as I look into those odd eyes of hers – funny, they don’t look so reptilian right now – and run my fingers through that strange mane of hers while my other hand pulls her closer. I look her straight in the eye and ask her, “Why would I leave? I live here!” “But we heard….” She stops looking at me and instead decides to be preoccupied with the tiles in the kitchen; obviously there’s an unspoken concern. I lift her head and look at her intently. “I think we need to talk.” In turn, she nods her head, and it’s the biggest breakthrough we’ve had yet. A minute later, we’re sitting on the couch. Well, I’m sitting. I guess she’s sitting for how her kind does, though if you ask me it looks like she’s lying down. Either way, she shuffles her hooves nervously, before she starts. “We…we suppose that we should start first,” she says to me. “We are…our name is Nightmare Moon, and we are…we are a nightmare.” Before I ask what she means by that, she adds, “The nightmare, truth be told.” “I’m sorry, Moon, but I don’t follow.” And then she gets fully into her explanation, and honestly, what I’m hearing is absolutely nothing less than stunning. Not about the part that she’s from another dimension or another world where the dominant species is based on horses; as weird as that is, I kinda got that part. No, it’s the part that she’s a nightmare, and the fact that she doesn’t actually exist, as least as far as she’s concerned. She explains that she’s the remains of the corrupted form of a princess of the realm she was from – that explains the “royal we”; I was beginning to wonder if I was dealing with some sort of hivemind. That she was formed from the hatred and jealousy of Princess Luna and as Luna became Nightmare Moon, she began a war for control of Equestria – Equestria? Okay, that name’s a bit on the nose there – against the ruling princess, her older sister Celestia. And as I’m listening to this, I’m watching her emotional state. Surprisingly, including her eyes, they’re very…well, human, reactions. Despite the difference in species, her face showed anguish, sorrow, self-loathing, insecurity. She cried throughout the whole of her explanation and it’s clear that whatever she was in the past, she regrets everything she’s done and everything that’s happened to her since. Even still, it’s sobering that if she’s telling the truth without any embellishments, my little friend here is magnitudes worse than any dictator in human history. Everlasting night? Extinguishing the sun? I’m no scientist, but I can’t imagine anything living on that eventually-frozen ball of rock that used to be a vibrant planet, had her plan succeeded. Then there’s the bit about sororicide; would she have really done that? “But we failed,” she told me, and I’m guessing this time she meant herself and Luna. “And for our crimes were sentenced to the moon for a thousand years.” “Wait, a thousand years?” She can’t look a day over…hell if I can even guess what her age is; I can’t even remember the formula to translate dog years into human ones. She nodded sadly. “Celestia used the Elements of Harmony on us.” It’s clear that my face is reading a blank, so she explains: “It’s a powerful set of magical amulets which embody the spirit of harmony itself. Once used on an opponent, it becomes a fearsome weapon the likes which you have never seen.” I’m trying to picture these Elements in my mind, and really, only one thing comes to mind. “So…it’s like a direct hit from the Death Star?” She raises an elegant eyebrow. The mild confusion on her face is somewhat adorable, all things aside. “We are…not familiar with this Star of Death you refer to.” “Well, it’s a giant space station, an – waitaminit, we’re getting off track; I’ll just show you Star Wars later.” If there’s a later, I wonder. “Anyway, go ahead.” “We…see.” She scratches the back of her head and I’m amazed at the level of dexterity – is that the right word to use? She doesn’t have hands, after all – that she has in her legs. “In any case, after a thousand years, we returned with revenge in our hearts, but we were countered and defeated by the Elements of Harmony once more. By Celestia’s daughter. But this time, it was much worse for us.” The look in her face suddenly changed from hurt to horrified. “We were…painfully torn away from Luna, torn asunder by the very Elements themselves. It…it hurt.” She paused, bowing her head in silent tears. I reached forward to help, but she gently brushed aside my hand. “We thank thee, but…we must be strong on our own.” She paused in silence for a few seconds more before finishing up with, “The next thing we remember aside was the very nightmare we were forced to live: being exiled here. “And now we are here, a guest in thy manse – an unbidden, unwanted guest, no doubt. And now…thou art leaving us, abandoning us as we deserve.” The broken voice she spoke in was hard enough to take, but it was the naked look she gave me in that last second that said more than she had previously, a silent plea: Please don’t abandon me. Still, there’s something that’s bothering me about all this, so I ask. “Why did you choose to come out now? Why not before? You’ve obviously made yourself at home here, but you’ve never come out, even when I asked. Why now?” A look of what I assume is embarrassment comes over her face; that’s confirmed a second later by the fur around her cheeks bristling slightly and turning a slight reddish shade – wow, didn’t know fur could do that. She then looks at me and answers, “When we first arrived, we thought thee a monster summoned by Celestia to eternally punish us for our sins…in our world, humans are to ponies as monsters are to thine; inequine beasts whose only purpose is to kill and terrorize. But as we got to know thee, we realized thou art kind and gentle…and it is we who art the monster.” At that, she uttered a choked sob, and it wrenched at my soul to hear it. Nevertheless, she continued. “Once we realized that we were the monster, we feared that thee would push us away once thou knew the truth. That we would lose the only friend we have had since our punishment, just as we have lost so much already.” “How could you think you’re a monster?” “We no longer know what we are,” she said in a hushed voice. “We were created from the pain and suffering of Princess Luna and now we have been ripped away from her. What are we now? What purpose do we have? Are we even real?” My answer comes simply enough: I embrace her, running my hands through her mane and asking her a simple question: “Do you feel real?” She sighs again, saying nothing more, though I can feel her crying into my shirt; I feel her horn against my chest; she turned her head apparently as to not gore me accidentally, thankfully. But I know I have to say something, because otherwise she’s going to be an emotional wreck forever: “Moon, you are no monster. I don’t know where you get that. If anything, what I see is a sad, lonely female in need of a friend.” “Are we friends?” she asks me suddenly. I look into those desperate eyes, and I simply nod. In turn, she nuzzles me, clearly pleased with the answer. It’s at this time that I look up, realizing that the whole day has gone by and that sunset has come to pass. Well, this whole conversation, longer than expected, had to happen; I don’t think that things would have gone as well otherwise. “You know, I’m famished. Why don’t we just order in tonight. Chinese okay with you?” She looks at me oddly. “Chinese?” Okay, Dynasty – ain’t the greatest Chinese takeout in the world; I can think of a dozen places in Monterey Park or El Monte that are worlds better. But when you’re up here in the mountains, your choices are kinda…limited. And besides, like my Dad says, Chinese is meant to be eaten with friends – he just doesn’t say that around Tae. I order the Imperial Combination Fried Rice and Crab Rangoon for myself, and for Moon, I got her the Kung Pao Tofu with some Spring Rolls. We continue the conversation during dinner. I’m drinking a Guinness; I probably shouldn’t, all things considered, but frankly, after this, I need this in order to relax. She’s drinking wine; surprisingly, she’s into that merlot that I usually use for cooking. I also found that she can use utensils – via magic! She’s already mastered the chopsticks with ease, and I’m absolutely floored just watching the sticks move in a deep blue field of energy. Since she told me everything about herself, I tell her everything about me; for some reason, she thought my last name was “Samsung”, and I have no idea where she got that idea. I go over my life, then my college years, then meeting Rachel and our life together, then Russell and his atrocity. I see a flash of anger in her eyes, and I know she’s going to do something; I ask her to refrain, as I want him to suffer the hell he’s already put himself into. She looks at me oddly, but agrees. Finally, as I get us some ice cream – amazed she didn’t eat all of it yet! – she looks as though she wants to say something. I nod at her to continue. “We have nowhere else to g—” she begins, but I silence her with a single finger pressed against her muzzle. “You’re welcome to live with me,” I tell her. And though I know it’s night outside, the smile that settles onto that muzzle? It’s bright enough to rival the morning. Later that night, for the first time in years, I’m willingly sharing a bed with a female that’s not a relative. It’s not like anything’s happening anyway, but Moon needs the comfort tonight and for some reason, I’m compelled to provide it. Maybe it’s just the emptiness in my life screaming out for something, or maybe it’s a message from Rachel, from beyond the grave, telling me that I need to open my heart again, even if just to another lonely soul who needs a friend. Or maybe I’m just crazy. In any case, Moon is glad to do so. I feel bad that for the first few months, she actually slept in the basement, before moving to the guest room, and then finally to the couch during the one time I left a blanket and pillow there. I promise her that the guest bedroom is hers, and that we’ll get her some furniture. She, in turn, tells me about the time she and Luna – as one, I guess – had control over the moon on their world, controlling it and wishing that her people would have appreciated it more; I get the feeling that had they truly accepted her for the person she is, she wouldn’t have become what she was…but then, maybe there would only be a Luna and not a Moon, and my life would be strangely empty that way. Then she sings a lullaby I’ve never heard of before in a language I’m not familiar with, and the next thing I know, I’m drifting off to sleep. When I woke up the following morning, I saw her just laying there, watching me, as if she took a simple pleasure in watching me sleep. At first I kinda freak out: that’s a rather stalkerish concept, if you ask me – but then I remember that’s something a human would do, and as much of a person as she’s acted so far, she’s not one, not completely. She then looks at me and says, “Good morning, Sir North.” “Morning, Moon,” I tell her back, giving her a half-awake smile. “So what now?” I ask her. She looks out the window, at the pines of the forest just beyond, then at the sun already making its way to the sky. “I think I’ll live,” she says with a smile. The next day I head to Atlanta. She looks heartbroken that I’m leaving, but I promised I’d call and bring her something when I get back. I called as soon as I got to the hotel, and she gushed about how nervous she was about being left alone for a week. But I told her that she would be fine, there was enough food in the fridge to cover her, and I would be back soonest. And when I’m back the following week, I have to admit, it’s good to have someone to come back to. She absolutely loved the Atlanta Braves jersey I got her; I’ve started to notice that she takes a lot value in simple pleasures like that – maybe because they’re gifts and they’re for her, and not anything with strings attached or spoils of war from when she was the person – or pony or whatever – she was back then. Plus, I have someone fresh I can talk to about my life with Rachel. I’m guessing it’s what I needed. Everyone else who knows me knows the hell I went through and usually walks on eggshells when they’re around me, but with Moon, I can just be honest in how I feel about all that. Likewise, she’s told me more and more about her past and I get the feeling that she hopes to return to Equestria someday to make amends for what she’s done. I get the feeling I’d miss her if she did. I don’t know if I’m in hell like I used to be. All I know is that both she and I are happy.
five. he. transition.View Onlinehe. she. we.five. he. transition.Author's Note Okay, at the behest of one of my editors, I'm doing this (though I think it should be obvious): In this chapter, North has a thought that could be seen as racially insensitive. That being said, this is the character's thoughts and do not reflect my own personal views, yadda yadda yadda. Also, because people have asked this enough in reference to a bit below: Yes, I know what a clip is and I also know what a magazine is and I know they're not they're the same thing. I'm a military vet, so believe me, I know. But you can't count on your everyday person knowing, and so that's why I used it. five. he. transition. It’s an unusually brisk September morning, nine months to the day when Moon first appeared in my life, cold enough for me to put on a sweatshirt despite the fact that it’s still technically summer and we’re in SoCal. We’re on White Mountain, about an hour’s drive northwest of home, at the northern edge of the range, and past that another fifteen minutes where we parked. It gives us – gives her – privacy for what is about to happen. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask Moon. She looks pensive, as far as I can tell. This is already tough on her: it’s the farthest she’s been from the house, her first time out in public – so to speak – and well…. She looks back at me, her eyes steadfast pools of aqua. She intends to do this regardless. “Are you…disappointed?” she asks. “Why would I be? This is your choice, and only you can make it,” I remind her. She nods in understanding at my sage wisdom – yeah, right; “sage wisdom”, my ass. She looks at the freshly dug pit in front of her. “This is where I bury you,” she says to no one in particular. And though I know she isn’t talking to me, I still can’t help but feel a chill roil through me. “I thought this is what I wanted out of life, once. I thought that I would have everything and that everypony would love me for it. And look where that line of thinking got me. Twice. “So I reject you – forever. Let me never remember you ever again, and let me live a normal life…or as much as I can have in this world. I hope never to have your countenance before me. I reject you, despise you and hope you will be forgotten someday. This is your end… “…Nightmare Moon.” And with that, she unfolds a very ornate flag, a beautiful silken vexillum that displays a black crescent moon against a starry indigo field. She told me it was the banner of arms that she used to lead her forces into war against Celestia. I’m still having a hard time picturing the soft-spoken alicorn standing next to me as some sort of unstoppable WWII-like general, but that’s the closest I have in basis for comparison. Assuming she had the power to do everything she claimed she did – and I don’t think she’s lying one bit – then yeah, it’s brutal. Giving it a kick, the flag slithers into the pit. The moment it does, with her magic, she lifts a giant boulder, one that must have easily weighed a ton or so, then easily sets it down on the hole without so much as breaking a sweat. Once that’s done, she collapses to the ground, more out of shock of the moment as opposed to being tired. That vulnerable look appears on her face once more, and it twinges at my heart a little. I move over to her side, and she’s grateful for my help. I look at her and ask, “How do you feel?” The smile on her face is as wide as can be. “Free,” she says, her voice sounding bright and cheerful. Or maybe it’s always been like this and I’d never known or noticed that until now. “So what next?” “I’ll just be Moon, nothing else,” she replies. “Nightmare Moon, as far as I’m concerned, is only my Steam tag, and that’s it. The would-be evil queen is dead, and I want her to stay that way.” She then gives me a coy look and says, “So is this the part where you woo me with all the incredible gadgets in the house as well as exotic treasures like orange juice?” I laugh. “Where on Earth did you get that idea?” “Well, I told you about orange juice being a highly-priz—” “No, I mean the other part.” She chuckles in response as we head back to the car. “Saw it on TV while you were in Atlanta. Some movie about an elf girl being in the same situation as me, but gets wooed by all the crap the guy has at home.” She rolls her eyes and nickers. “If you ask me, I think the creative team put way too much thought into film design and not enough into common sense.” “Well,” I tell her as I head over to the driver’s side of the car, “Nobody can constantly roll natural 20s, Moon.” “Tell me how that’s a bad thing,” she replies as she climbs into the back seat and under the blanket I placed back there so she wouldn’t be seen. “Can we stop somewhere for lunch?” “So, when do we get to meet her?” Carrie asks. She wanted me to meet her for lunch at this new place she found in Alhambra. Should’ve known it was a trap. “Meet who?” She rolls her eyes. “Moon,” she says, matter-of-factly, as the hummus from the piece of bread she’s wielding like a baton drips down onto the table. “I’m sorry, I….” She gives me that look. “Destiny thinks that you guys got along great, but that things didn’t go anywhere because she didn’t sleep with you the first night. Should I tell her you’re still available? She really likes you and she told me the other day that she just bought some edible underwear with you in mi—” I groan. “Really?” I ask, countering her look with the older brother look. “She said, and I quote, ‘I get creamy when I think of your brother riding me like we’re at Santa Anita Park—’” I nearly choke on the bite of shwarma I just started chewing on, and Carrie laughs, then has the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, maybe I shoulda waited until you finished before laying that one on you.” “Please tell me you’re joking that she said that.” “No, she wasn’t. But for what it’s worth, I have to admit that I made a mistake fixing you two up; that shouldn’t have happened.” She took a bite of her own, then asked, “So now that we’ve both admitted to mistakes, why won’t you tell me about your girlfriend?” “Carrie, I—” “Look, North, the whole family is thrilled that you’re able to move on past Rachel. And I understand you’re taking it slow – considering that I’m running out of friends to throw at you, I know you’re taking it slow. But I think we all deserve to meet the girl who finally caught your attention.” “Look, Moon…she’s not my girlfriend, okay? She’s a friend that’s been helping me through a few things as of late, that’s all. When I told Don about her, she just happened to be staying at my place for the week, because…well, her apartment was getting fumigated.” And I know I’m going to hell for that lie. “So where does she live?” “Um…Rialto, or Fontana; maybe Ontario or Claremont – somewhere around there,” I answer, knowing it’s lie number two. When Carrie gives me that look again, I just hand it right back to her. “Do you know where all your male friends live?” “Okay, okay, I get the point,” Carrie says, waving her hands in a sort of defeat. “But, answer me this, North: Should I call off the hunt? Will this Moon girl fill the bill? You’re my big brother and I genuinely want to know you’re happy. We all do.” It’s a question I can’t answer. “Is he gone?” she asks. “Yeah, he’s gone,” I tell Moon. I see her walk into the guest room – well, her room now – and I’m blinking. A Great Dane walks in, one with a charcoal gray coat and ice blue eyes. Then it sits and looks at me, an annoyed look on its face. “Well, I thought it was the safest thing to do in case he saw me,” she explains, while I’m trying not to mentally short-circuit from looking at a dog talk to me. “I’m tired of hiding and I couldn’t just run the TV in your room while sitting in there; what would happen if he walked in?” I point at her, waving a finger around to encompass her body. “Could you, uh…?” “Oh, sorry.” A flicker of dark blue spellfire, and she’s back to normal. “Honestly, I think that was a major difference between me and Luna,” she tells me off-handedly, as if I have any clue of what she’s talking about. “She was always better at the subtle spells: shapeshifting, shadow walking, that sort of stuff. Me, on the other hoof? I’m a little more…ah, ‘blunt’, shall we say: glamories, outright shadow manipulation, that sort of thing.” “I thought you two were the same person?” “We were, but….” I can practically hear the gears turn in her head as she’s trying to come up with a non-magical explanation that won’t confuse the hell out of me. She flutters her wings briefly in annoyance; I’m guessing that’s the equivalent of a shrug. “It’s…well…you know that movie about the woman with multiple personalities?” I look at her oddly. “You mean Sibyl? You do know that was one of those ‘based on a true story’ kind of movies. They exaggerated all to hell.” “It’s the closest thing I could think of,” she replied. “But…let’s just forget about that right now.” An excited gleam started flooding onto her face as she asked, “So they’re done?” I wave my arms to encompass the room. “You’re here, they left. What do you think?” As she looks around the room, part of me wonders if I’m spoiling her rotten. All things aside – years included – she’s probably the same age as I am, at least mentally, and probably would take the idea as an insult. I’d hate to have her think of me as a sugar daddy or anything like that, not that I think she would. Besides, the smile on her face makes me think this is all worth it. “I….” Her ears droop, and I suddenly realize something’s up. “Is there…any way to return this?” I’m floored by her sudden request and seeing it, she says, “I…I don’t deserve—” “Stop,” I tell her, raising a hand. “I thought we agreed that when you let things go, you weren’t going to dwell on it.” “But I—” She looks at the ground briefly, then looks back up at me. “I can’t ever repay you for all your kindness, North.” I laugh. “Moon, do you realize how much that fire ruby you gave me was?” When she shook her head, I explain. “It’s only one of four on this planet! You could have bought about a dozen houses with that thing! Believe me, when I had it made into a jewel and saw the look on my mother’s face…it was worth it.” “You mean that?” “I wish I could show you,” I told her, meaning every moment of it as I looked into her rather striking eyes. Actually, that’s something I’ve never noticed before – that she has really beautiful eyes. Wonder why that slipped me? “Moon?” I call out as I step into the door. Just got home from the Microsoft announcement up in Seattle, and the interesting offer I had from a couple of fellow guys in the business I know. Well, if nothing else, Cherry Bascome is a whiz in her field so I know if she means it, she’ll get it done, and as a senior editor, I wouldn’t have to travel as much which would be definitely great. I’ll have to seriously think about it. I did take the time to stop at the Mariners gift shop at the airport. For some reason, since the day I got her that Atlanta Braves jersey on a whim, she pretty much dresses in nothing but those or t-shirts. I have to admit, they do look good on her, the dark of her fur contrasting against the co— I pause for a second. That was the oddest thing that had entered my mind lately and I haven’t even run into her yet. I see a dainty foreleg rise and wave in greeting. “Hi!” As I walk over, she’s lying on the couch, wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. She insisted that with the retirement of her armor and the realization that humans wear clothing, she was going to, as well. Thankfully, kids clothes fit her well with a few tweaks from her magic…but it’s kinda hard finding stuff that fits her tastes and her body. Luckily, both Spencers and Hot Topic sell kids’ shirts. As I walk up, she’s reading a book. “Heya, dinner’s in the oven,” she says to me. I smile; glad to know she’s been thinking about it. “Moon, you don—” “I said I wasn’t going to be a freeloader, and I meant it,” she replies, closing the book and turning to face me. “Besides, we agreed that transmuting gold and gems would be too suspicious and I’m not sure how of any other methods to repay you.” Good thing she doesn’t know about counterfeiting, and I’m not about to tell her. “So the only thing I can do is chores around the house. Besides, it’s something I both need and want to do.” “Oh?” I plop in the space next to her. She nods. “I’m not a princess – Luna is. I’m a commoner, not a would-be dictator. And while I’m an alicorn, I…that shouldn’t make me better than anyone else. As far as I’m concerned, this goddess is retired.” “So you went from god-emperor to housewife?” I ask. A thought comes to me about Moon, futzing about the house, all June Cleaver and shit, and for some reason, that doesn’t seem so weird. “Uh-huh. Besides, I was helping around the house before I showed myself, so I’m familiar with the appliances already.” She then looks at me wickedly. “Plus, someone has to do the laundry around here, since you’re so bad at it.” She punctuates her jibe with a soft grin and then a nuzzle. Getting used to the latter from another sentient being is kinda odd, but I’m growing attached to it. Getting up from my seat, I look at her and tell her that I’m going to change out of my suit and into something more casual; in turn, she makes a comment how she never wants me to change – I see she’s picked up that old joke – and that the pizzas should be ready in a couple and we can watch a movie. Later that night, we’re debating as to what movie we’re going to watch, relaxing over pizzas – hey, I have to admit, she can really cook; I might end up a fatass from all the things she makes! – and beer, or apple cider in her case, since she hates brews. “Have any idea of what you want to watch tonight?” I ask her. “Doesn’t matter to me,” she says, putting her head on my lap. She likes doing that, for some reason. Moon’s a very touchy-feely gal now that she’s opened up, and it doesn’t bother me entirely. Plus, I have to admit, it does feel nice having a familiar form there; Rachel always used to lie there when we watched movies and while I’m not comparing her to Moon, it just seems natural that she’s there. Or maybe I’m just a chauvinist pig who likes having girls’ heads in my lap. I’ve no fucking clue. Looking at the Netflix roster via my tablet, I ask her, “What about this one? I haven’t seen Legend since I was a kid.” I bring up the description and hold it out to her; a second later I feel a slight tug and the tablet’s glowing blue. She reads the description, then gives me one of those looks. “Unicorns? Really?” I get the feeling this might not have been a good idea. “You do know that unicorns aren’t just horses with horns, right? Most of them are smaller than I am.” A pause, then: “Well, smaller than I was. I think I’m the size of an average mare, now.” That’s a new one. “Really? You didn’t mention that before.” She nods as she flicks the tablet back to me. “Alicorns tend to be much larger than the average pony, even though we’re still pretty small compared to what humans call ‘ponies’. In fact, the only pony that comes close to what you think of as a horse is Celestia and I’m not even sure she’s completely a good comparison,” she tells me. “Fine, we won’t watch it, then.” To be honest, the only thing I really liked about it was Tim Curry’s awesome acting; really, it’s not one of Ridley Scott’s better films. I spend a few more minutes flicking through the catalog before I ask, “What about E.T.?” “E.T.?” she asks, taking the tablet in hand? Hoof? Whatever; it sure wasn’t her magic this time. She looks over the story summary before saying with a grin, “Sure. I’m going to get another piece of pizza. Want one?” “Sure,” I told her, “but won’t you need help carrying it?” She gives me that duh look of hers and says, “Don’t worry: alicorn, remember?” And I feel a lack of weight on my legs as she gets up, then picks up the plates in her magical field, and walks back towards the kitchen. And as I’m watching her walk off, I’m caught by the way the stars in her tail flicker and flow, moving rhythmically to the sway of her back legs an— I blink. Wait – was I just checking out Moon’s ass? “No they wouldn’t,” I insist. “I’ll protect myself, I swear, if I must!” she insists back. “Moon, one, it’s just a film,” I tell her. “Two, don’t you think I would do everything I could to protect you?” “But you saw what those guards did to that family, and all they were doing was trying to shield ET!” she cried. “And if humans are like that towards aliens, then imagine what they’ll do to me! And even if you defend me, they might hurt you, too!” She then laid her head back on my lap, looking up at me. “I’m not going to let them do that to me or you.” I really don’t know what to say. On one hand, she’s overreacting; I really don’t know what humanity would do if they found out about her existence. Granted, E.T. was probably not the best movie to show, in hindsight, but I really don’t think it would be that bad. On the other hand, I really don’t know what to say about her comments that she’d do everything to protect both herself and me. I mean, that’s friendship right there, in a nutshell. Finally, after a few more minutes, I insist that she’s overworried about things…though we agreed not to rock the boat and just not let her go out into public just yet. I’d be afraid to lose her, personally, and though I would do just about anything to make sure she’s safe, there’s a whole world out there making sure that might not be the case. Rachel wasn’t too keen on having guns in the house, and I’ve never been one for them either. But as I watch the small, furry figure fall yawn and slightly doze to sleep in my lap? I really think it’s worth it. Two days later, I’m out in Apple Valley at the Roy Rogers Shootin’ Range. The town takes its legacy of both apples and Roy Rogers seriously, and right now I’m here more for the latter. Fortunately, I’m not here alone. “So, that’s the deal, North,” Charlene “Cherry” Bascome tells me as she lines up a pistol and readies to fire. “I’ll take Pub, you’ll have the EIC slot, and Mando, Avi, Kyoko, Max and Merlin’ll be the ground troops. As EIC, you won’t have to travel as much as the others, but you’ll probably get bogged down clearing their stories.” Before I can answer, she pulls the trigger repeatedly, firing bullets downrange, the tinny ring of the pistol loud enough to cut off my voice, though the hearing protectors she’s wearing probably help with that, too. Figures – I come here to sign the contract to join up as Psifiakon Technon’s new editor-in-chief and my new boss – probably the only black woman in history that likes hunting and outdoors stuff – wants to meet at the shooting range to discuss business. Well, fortunately, I’ve known Cherry since our college days and she’s a consummate journalist…with some decidedly odd hobbies. She once admitted that if she wasn’t so good at the tech writing biz, her dream job would be publisher over at Field & Stream. “So, who’s this Moon gal?” she asks the second she sets down the gun and we pull off our earmuffs. I swear, does she know my sister or something? But then Cherry flashes me a grin and says, “North, I overheard you talking to her in the background and heard her as well. Now, I know your sister’s name is Carrie, so I’m guessing that wasn’t her in the background, was it?” “No, Moon—” I begin, but Cherry just shakes her head. “North, you and I go back years, buddy. And I know Rachel’s death broke your heart. But you know what? In all the time since Rachel’s death, you’ve never mentioned another girl in your life, unless she’s related to you or someone that your kid sister’s trying to fix you up with. And now, all of a sudden, there’s this Moon girl in your life?” Clearly done with shooting, she removes her clip, pops the safety, and heads over to the table to put her gun in its case. “Look, you can deny it all you want, North, and frankly, that’s fine; only you can say when it’s time for you to really move on. But the way you were talking to Moon? You two sounded just the same way that you and Rachel used to.” Huh? Cherry gives me a sympathetic grin. “Don’t worry; I’ll keep it under my hat until you tell everyone.” I’m in the middle of my dreams. And for the first time in a while, it’s a great one. I’m dreaming of my Rachel and we’re making love. It’s like I can feel her pressed against me, sharing everything that we had together and her voice promising that she’ll never let me go. And as I kiss her deeply and tell her that I love her more than anything, she says that she knows – and that I made the right decision. And as I pull her dark skin— Wait. Dark skin? Rachel was as white as they come. And if that’s the case, then…? The woman I’ve just made love to sits up, black, glistening skin and all. Wings are tucked in at her side, and other than the perfect body, she’s got the head of a unicorn and turquoise eyes that don’t quite look normal. Moon whispers to me, “And you loved her as much as you love me,” before she leans down again for round two…. I sit up, sweating and the sheets are sticky and…. Fuck, I thought I grew out of this shit when I got married. I look at the clock, and it’s 2:30 in the morning. I get out of bed, and then throw myself in the shower for a few minutes – a cold shower. The following morning was awkward, to say the least. Belgian waffles served with a side of I-ain’t-saying-shit. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” she says to me as a coffee cup floats daintily in the air, next to her head. “You okay?” “Yeah, I just…uh, you didn’t peek in my dreams or anything, did you?” She shook her head. “I don’t do those things anymore. Well, maybe if you were having a really bad nightmare, but you weren’t. I could tell that from where I was, and just let it be.” Suddenly her wings flare up, and she has a shocked look on her face. Now it’s my turn. “Something up?” “N-no-nothing!” she insists, blushing furiously, looking very flustered all of a sudden. I just look at her and finally, once she’s calmed her wings, she says, “I can sense the type of dream, and you were having a….” She says something in a tiny, barely audible voice. “What was that?” “Um…a loving dream,” she explains. “It causes certain habits in a body, and….” She paused, took a breath, and then said, “You know, I’m really uncomfortable talking about this. Can we talk about something else?” “You look good,” I tell her, and she does: It’s Halloween evening and she’s in her old armor again. When I told her about my plan, she thought it was an absolutely horrible idea, but the fact that it let her get out of the house when people are all around was more than enough. I check the magical spell – a glamory, she called it – around me in the mirror and have to admit, I know some makeup guys at the studios that would kill to make things look this realistic. And as I look at the “Exposed Terminator” outfit I’m wearing, I’m betting Schwarzenegger himself didn’t look this awesome. “I really don’t like this plan,” she says, the look in her eyes worried. “For starters, your neighbors know you don’t have a dog. And secondly, I really don’t like the idea of some dog poking his nose where it shouldn’t be – I’m not that kind of filly.” I start to have second thoughts about this as well, but I did promise her and she wanted to do this at first. It’s only natural that both of us are starting to get cold feet. As we walk to the door, I look at her and say, “Don’t worry – I’ll be right here with you and even if we can’t talk to each other, I’m not leaving your side.” «Don’t worry,» a voice suddenly sounds in my head. «I have it all covered.» I blink and just stare at her, and she in turn gives me a smile. «Just think of what you’re going to say; the spell will do the rest.» Since most of my neighbors were out of town or taking their own kids around, and since nobody ever came by my house for trick-or-treating, it made things easier. A lot of the kids in the neighborhood were impressed by my Terminator costume, and more than a few were absolutely amazed by the “winged unicorn costume” I put on my dog. I saw a flash of annoyance in Moon’s eyes, but she kept her mouth shut. Instead, she transmitted, «I thought dogs were generally smaller here on Earth.» «They are, but they probably think you’re one of the super-sized breeds like a Great Dane or Australian Cattle Dog.» A very assholish thought comes into my mind and I can’t help but say, «Don’t worry, if they ask I’ll just tell them you’re a Subcontinental Einhorn.» «A what?» When I explain that historically unicorns were believed to have come from India, she just gives me a long, penetrating stare. «You have got unicorns on the brain,» she tells me. The night was a success, to say the least. While most people didn’t bother with Moon because they thought she was a dog, the younger children absolutely loved her. And while she remained wordless, she gave plenty of nuzzles and kisses to the boys and girls of the town, in return for receiving hugs and kisses from the young children in return. One mother in particular looked at me and said, “That’s the most well-behaved dog I’ve ever seen – and the costume’s good, too.” “Thanks,” I tell her. “Friend of mine works at Warner Bros. and helped me make the costume for her. And as for her, she’s by far the best behaved pet that I’ve ever had. It’s practically like having a roommate.” «You are so going to pay for that,» she says in my mind, and I can somehow feel the laughter in that telepathic voice. «Tell you what: I’ll pick you up some pumpkin spice cheesecake from Sugar Pine tomorrow. Would that work?» I ask. «Woof woof and woof,» she replies back and favors me with a grin. “Hey mister – why can your dog smile?” There’s gotta be something wrong with me. This is the third night in a row that I’ve thought of…well, with Moon after starting off with Rachel and tonight, it was just with Moon outright. And two things are coming to me: one, when did I get so interested in furries? And two, I really hope this isn’t what I think it is. I mean, I love Rachel, I always will – and my heart tears out every time I think about what I’ve lost and what we could have had. But then I see a pair of worried turquoise eyes, and somehow they’re all just for me, and I know it. Besides, she’s not human. And even if I wanted to – Moon is not human. I have no idea what their relationships are like; for all I know it could be like a praying mantis and as soon as I knock her up, she’ll lop my head off and eat my body an— Stop, just fucking stop, I tell myself. Moon isn’t like that and you know it. She’s the sweetest, kindest, girl you’ve…. I pause and sit up in bed. I get up and walk out of my room, then peek into hers. She’s dozing, the sheets of her bed rhythmically rising and falling in tune with her breath. And as I watch her, I realize something. Something that others did before I did: When did I start falling for this alien girl – mare, woman, whatever – and why did everyone else notice it before me? The revelation is stunning, to say the least. Rachel and I…we weren’t love at first sight. We actually didn’t start dating until about three months after we met, and it was three months after that when we realized we had something. But with Moon…it just…“happened.” But as I walk back to my bedroom, my mind starts clouding with a jumble of thoughts: when did I start this? Am I really falling for her? What if it’s just a rebound? I would never want to hurt her like that, as she’s a sensitive girl…nevermind the fact that she probably has enough magic at her disposal that she could probably split an atom with just a thought. But she’d never do that to me. I’m the only friend in the world that she has. A friend who could break her heart if he makes a mistake, I realize. Clicking the alarm clock/mini stereo system, I hit the switch and the glitchy, jazzy sounds of Flying Lotus fills the air. Met the guy once in an interview I did for Phunqi magazine; got him to autograph a copy of Los Angeles for me. As the air fills with the song “Robertaflack”, I realize that’s the wrong tune to be listening to right now. Am I falling in love with Moon? Can I love Moon? “Are we allowed to make brand new beginnings?” indeed. A second after I lie down in bed, I feel a gentle nudge against my arm and a pair of softly glowing eyes looking at me. Anyone else would be freaked out by such a sight in the darkness of evening, but to me, seeing those expressive aqua eyes is a comfort, a balm. “You okay?” she asks. “Yeah, can’t sleep,” I tell her. “First day starting the new job tomorrow and we’re all physically meeting in the offices down in Century City. New job jitters, I guess.” That’s true enough. She looks at me again, and, from the tilt of her eyes, I can tell she’s thinking. A second later she says, “Scoot over.” “Moon, you don’t….” “I want to,” she says. “Besides, you need a hug, and I need my beauty sleep, okay?” “Thought you were a goddess of the night?” I ask her. “Retired goddess,” she points out, then leaps over me, hopping into the other side of the bed. I can hear the rustling of the sheets as she climbs in, then the silky touch of her wing over me as she whispers, “Now get some sleep, okay? Long day tomorrow.” It’s probably the best sleep I’ve had in nights. That thought alone really worries me. “So how’s…?” Cherry asks me once the meeting with the staff concludes. While I’ll have an office here, I’ll probably do most of my work at home. We have a small staff working here in Technon’s offices: the sales staff; the webmasters and IT gal; and Cherry, who hates teleworking. Everyone else will be from remote – probably the only reason why we can afford office space in one of the most expensive districts in La-la-land. Well, that and Cherry’s got serious connections. “With Moon?” I ask, and she nods. “I think…well, I think I am.” “Hey, congrats!” she tells me. “Planning to bring her around the office sometime?” “When I can convince her to,” I tell my friend and boss, knowing the truth is somewhere between when hell freezes over and fuck never. “Besides, I don’t know how she feels.” “North, I told you how you talk about her. I bet if I meet her, within five minutes she’d tell me that she’s met the man of her dreams.” “Well, I can assure you she’s an expert on dreams,” I mutter off-handedly; thankfully, Cherry thinks that’s a joke. “But bet that within a year, you two will be golden. I can see that train coming a mile away, let me tell you.” “If you insist,” I tell her. But the truth is, I don’t even know if my feelings are genuine, much less if she feels the same way. Plus, there’s the obvious – it’s borderline bestiality and I say borderline because she’s not an animal. Or rather, she is, much in the same way that humans are technically animals as well. Why the fuck am I even thinking about all this? “You sure? You don’t have to do this,” she tells me. “If this Thanksgiving thing is important, then you should go be with your family.” I shake my head. “No, I’m fine right here, Moon,” I tell her as I check the tofurkey – I really hope I’m not going to regret cooking that. But it’s Thanksgiving and nobody should be alone, not even cute horse-shaped alien girls. And while I can’t bring her with me to see my family, I can – and did – tell my parents that I couldn’t make it this year because I was caught missing a flight back to the LA area from a meeting. That was almost true; I didn’t make it back to Ontario until nine last night; flight from Chicago was nearly delayed due to a snowstorm there. Still, I’d already set my mind on doing this for her and me and I wasn’t about to change my mind. “You sure there’s nothing I can do?” she asks. She’s currently dressed herself in a blouse and skirt and done her mane up a little like Audrey Hepburn. Ever since she found out I was sucker for those old Hepburn films, she went and got herself a more formal wardrobe for special occasions like tonight. I’ve no idea where the pearl necklace she’s wearing came from, though. “Other than watching crappy Thanksgiving specials or football? Not really. Just relax and enjoy me doing the cooking for a change.” “You know, you really know how to spoil a filly,” she tells me. “Hey, I was married – I had to learn somewhere,” I remind her. I learned a few things about dinner tonight. The first is that the old saying is true: Do Not Eat the Tofurkey. The second is that Moon looks incredibly beautiful tonight. Sitting there, sipping from the wine I bought to go with – actually, drown – the tofurkey, we talked about a billion things. I told her about previous turkey days with my family, especially the infamous Thanksgiving of 1998, where the turkey Grandma bought somehow went bad the morning of, and we ended all ordering buckets of KFC that night. She in turn tells me a bunch of stories of her childhood and what she remembers of that time. Then she gets sad, claiming that those were Luna’s memories and that she never really had any because she didn’t exist back then. Then I told her that was bullshit, that she was a living breathing person and that even if she wasn’t a separate being at the time, she was still a part of Luna and she had as much right to those memories as that other alicorn did. Which brings me to the last thing I learned tonight: nothing cheers up a saddened alicorn like pumpkin pie, gingerbread lattes and a headrub. And as she falls asleep in my lap again, I realize something about her: I am falling for her, and maybe if I’m going to hell for it…this time, I’m willing to live with myself. Now I just have to be very careful not to break the heart of the girl who’s both my roommate and my closest friend. With a soft flap of her wings, she floats up and puts the star on top of the Christmas tree. “So, I’ve been reading up about this Christmas,” she says to me as she lands back on the ground, “and it reminds me a lot of Hearth’s Warming, which is a holiday that we used to celebrate around this time as well. Though it’s quite a bit different,” she admitted. “On the surface, however, there are a lot of things that are the same.” “Such as?” I ask, thinking of how adorable she looks in her Christmas sweater. Unfortunately, the sweatpants? Not so much, but then again, winter’s going to kick in next week, and jeans don’t fit her frame too well. And I’ve got to realize that isn’t helping my case any. It’s already hard enough dealing with these uneasy feelings; these past few weeks, especially since Thanksgiving, have given me a lot of time to think about things – probably too much time, if you ask me. I look over at the doorway, and the mistletoe I placed up there. Normally, it’s just tradition – though Rachel and I made plenty of use of said tradition. It’s one of those things that I both hope and dread Moon ever finding out the meaning of. Maybe it’s just the way things are: a year ago, my life was empty and my path was set – self-enforced solitude for eternity. And then Moon appeared and my life has been completely upside-down since, but in a good way. And now, this. Maybe I should stop thinking about it. Why rock the boat?
seventeen. he. relationships.View Onlinehe. she. we.seventeen. he. relationships.It’s been a week since she got back from Canada, and we’ve settled into our normal life once more. From the moment she got home last week until about a couple of hours before dawn, we were…well, let’s just say that we were reminding ourselves why we’re a couple, and that’s the fun part. It really wasn’t much; after travelling, we just stayed home, settling into our normal lives and letting our world settle back to normal. Unfortunately, we can’t let everything go forever, like that letter that the HIVE sent us. And since we’re eating breakfast this morning, we finally decide to talk about it. Holding that letter in her magic field, she says to me, “The Chairwoman of the HIVE will be attending Pacific War, because she wants to speak to me about something.” She levitates her spoon of oatmeal up to her muzzle, the utensil just floating there before her mouth. “And no, I have no idea what they want to talk to me about.” “It’s Molloy, right? That fucking greaseball, I swear….” Man has rubbed me wrong since Day One and that situation has never improved. “No, it’s not about Molloy; from speaking to the head of their Toronto office, I get the feeling he’s generally not popular with the organization.” Her wings twitch unevenly and I know that’s body language for the fact that she likes him just about as much as I do – which is to say, not at all. “Who knows? Maybe they want to offer me the position.” I look at her and I can’t help but grin at the silliness of that. “Seriously? The fox has been hired as security for the henhouse?” “Look, I can’t do what I want to do forever. I love my career, and I am hella good at it, love, but just as you’re getting older, so do I have to pretend to be. In the women’s circuit, I’m already considered near retirement age. Granted, the men’s circuit is viable until they’re in their forties, so there’s some sexism involved, but sadly, streamers are okay with gray hair on guys but don’t like watching a hot young thing become a not-so-hot, not-so-young thing.” “Yeah, but weren’t you telling me about Senior Critizen?” I still laugh at that. Senior Critizen is a woman in her sixties and active on the FPS circuit. She’s known for bringing cookies to matches and then complimenting her opponents as if they were her grandkids before utterly destroying them. “Yeah, well, she’s a rarity,” she tells me. “Senior players are known for being still damn good despite being at an age where arthritis should be a bigger issue than their APM counts. I mean look at Grandpa Crankypants. Man shows up with walker, but it’s all fake, just to mess with his opponents. He then steps into PVP and destroys anything in his path. He’s even beaten me in an unofficial match.” “You?” “Yeah.” Despite her black fur, I can see the blush. “I thought he was the genuine deal, so I went easy on him. It wasn’t after until I checked the APM stats that I found out he’s got numbers on par with someone a third his age. Next time we meet, I am not giving him any quarter, I promise you that.” She stuffs that spoon of oatmeal in her mouth and the pout on her face looks absolutely adorable. Finally, we finish our food and I get up. “So what’s your plans for today?” “I have to go to Renaissance Studios and talk with them about their new looter-shooter. Supposedly they want to develop a Destiny killer, but I don’t see that happening.” I’ve played that game before. FPSes aren’t my thing, but Moon wanted a fireteam mate, so I learned how to use a Titan. Name of the game still freaks me out for obvious reasons, even though I know it’s not related to my personal problems. “Oh? Why not?” “Between Borderlands, The Division, and Warframe the field is already crowding,” she says in that authoritative tone of hers. “Still, I did talk with BurnStrike—” “Who?” “BurnStrike – that’s Ben Sandoval, CEO of Renaissance. He’s a former stick mover like me, so I guess I owe him the professional courtesy of heading over there and telling him it isn’t going to work in the nicest ways I know how.” She then smiles. “What about you?” I try not to think about what my plans are today, because I really don’t know if our telepathy lets her skim stuff off my mind. I know she wouldn’t, but I’m more concerned about giving things away. “I have to read over the new submission by the new writers Cherry hired last week. Maureen is formerly from Ars, but I wasn’t too impressed by her articles there. Maybe they hamstrung her, or maybe she’s not as hot on the topics she’s covered. And as for Waleed, he comes from Al-Jazeera America; he covered tech there, but that was more of the on-screen stuff, which tends to not be as hard-hitting as the written word, in my opinion. Still, from what I know of him, he’s solid in knowledge.” “So, fun day of editing, I take it?” “Yeah. Besides, it’s either that or I take Cherry’s place at Southern Connection. And between you and me, I really don’t want to fly down to Australia, and we’ve already spent too long apart.” “Yes, that we have,” she tells me. A pause. “Well, I don’t have to be in Whittier until three, so let’s digest and then we can work off the calories.” “You’re insatiable, you know that?” “Oh, you like it when I do that thing with my wings, and you know it,” she gently accuses me. No comment. After more of what we do that comes naturally, she changes to her human form, showers, debates wanting to do it in the shower, then decides she needs to get ready and heads out at about two so that she’s not late. Which, of course, leaves me at home to do my thing. I probably should’ve gone with her to see if I could get an interview with a couple of folks there, but given that Renaissance already gave an exposé to PC Gamer last month I suspect they won’t be talking to the press at all until things on their game are a little more set. I go sit down at my computer and download the articles. Looks like Ars put Maureen in the wrong kinds of spots; this article on JPL is excellent and I’m going to recommend we have her cover the space and science stuff more than home technology front she used to – she seems to know her stuff. Meanwhile, Waleed’s clearly got some knowledge as expected, but this is some seriously sad CNN website crap. I’m going to need him to buckle down more, or maybe even suggest to Cherry that we start a media section and make him the editor. I mean, he’s got the knowledge, but if writing is not his forte, that happens. I give the go-ahead and hammer out a quick email to Cherry, when my phone goes off. I look at the number, but it doesn’t look familiar. “Yeah, this is North Shores,” I answer. “So I got volunteered to do this, since your kid sister gave me a guilt trip.” I sigh. “Oh, hi, Arturia,” I tell her. “How’d you get my phone number?” “I’m Moon’s friend and bodyguard – did you really need to ask something that stupid?” “Yeah, good to hear from you as well,” I tell her. “So, seriously, why’d you call?” “Like I said, Katie gave me a guilt trip into going with you on your little misadventure today. I suspect that she wants to keep things a secret and since I’m better at that, she gave me grief. What time should I meet you at your place?” Oh, that. Great – wasn’t expecting her of all people. Not that I have too much of a problem with Arturia, but out of all of Moon’s friends, she’s…well, the most out there of them, if you get my point. “Moon has an appointment at three, so she should be leaving soon. Meet here about, say, 2:30?” “Works for me; I’ll see you then.” I hang up just as I feel a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders a second later. “You sure you don’t want me to cancel this?” I hear Moon say. “I mean, I can probably come up with some reason why I can’t make it, if you want.” I lean back into the chair, smiling. “As much as I would want to, you made a promise to this Sandoval guy, and I have a lot more of the paperwork to do here as EIC.” I quickly go over my quick notes on both of the writers, but I leave out that I’ve already made up my mind. Hopefully Moon will get the hint that there’s still more to go on with these two. “Well, I promise I won’t be gone too long,” she tells me, kissing the top of my head. “Take as long as you need,” I assure her. “All of this could take a while, plus I want to run an idea or two past Cherry, so I could easily be burning some hours tonight.” “Okay, just as long as you make time for me,” she says and I can practically hear the pout in her voice. “Because I’m just a poor young thing who can’t do anything without her boyfriend.” “Says the immortal all-powerful alien goddess who decided to change forms and live as a twenty-something woman just for my sake?” She hugs me tighter. “Everyone’s gotta have a hobby, dear. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight.” I busy myself with more of the work-related stuff while waiting for Arturia to show up. And thirty minutes later, I’m off towards my destination, with Moon in the car right next to me Only she’s really not right next to me, per se. “Is this the only way I’m going to get you to sleep with me?” Arturia teases me in Moon’s voice. “Because if so, I should let you know this is somewhat weirding me out.” “Ha, ha,” I droll. “Look, if I’m going to do this right, I need Moon’s measurements, which means I need her and a surprise is not a surprise if I have her along, you know? So it was you or Katie as the next best thing, and like you said, she insisted that she can’t keep a secret, so….” “Yes, because I can make myself a copypasta of her,” she says, this time in her voice, and while I know it’s her it’s still weird seeing the love of my life speaking with the voice of one of her friends. “Still, it just feels…wrong.” “Yeah, well, things will get even more wrong if we have to run into anyone either Moon or I know,” I remind her. “So let’s just stick with the plan, okay?” I see her shift back to her normal form and frown. “It would be nice if you tell me what the plan is, North.” “You’ll see,” I tell her. Getting off the freeway, we finally arrive at South Coast Plaza. Fortunately, I’ve already arranged things somewhat with the proprietor of the store. “Does Moon suspect?” Arturia asks. “I hope not; I’ve been very careful,” I admit, “and to be honest, I really don’t know what her reaction will be regardless.” The truth is, I don’t. I’ve done this once before and though it went well at the beginning…. No. Not going to focus on that, not at all. Rachel and I will always have our time together and I will always love her, but I can’t dwell on the demons of the past or that’ll let Russell win. And I value my love for both Moon and Rachel to ever let that bastard dominate my life while he’s sitting in San Quentin. Parking the car over by Saks, we head in and Arturia starts naming her price for her silence, which I guess I’m okay with. I have plenty of disposable funds, and I figured that if it had been Katie that was here, she’d probably do the same thing. Besides, Arturia’s laid off her flirtstorm so far, so I suppose I’m in the clear somewhat. Finally, we walk into South Coast Jewels, and the woman at the counter looks up at me with a smile on her face. “Hey, North, glad you arrived!” “Thanks, Michaela,” I tell her. “Busy day today?” “Not really, but I really didn’t feel like doing inventory today,” she tells me before looking over at Arturia, who’s switched back to Moon’s form. “This the lucky girl? Thought you wanted to keep it a secret.” “Twin sister,” Arturia says smoothly, and I’m going to go with that. “I work down the road and when North told me what he’s planning, I offered to be the guinea pig. Anything for my big sis.” “That’s sweet,” Michaela says before breaking out a series of rings. “Okay, these are the test bands,” she tells us. “Please try them on and let me know which size is the one that works.” She then grabs a laptop and slid it over to me. “North, these are the prototype designs I’ve been drawing on CAD. Normally what you want would be serious cost, but I already owe you and hey, I’m a sucker for happy endings in any case.” “You don’t owe me anything, Michaela, really. If anything, I owe—” She shakes her head at me in that let me finish way, which means that I probably should. “Those earrings I made from that fire ruby got me West Coast Jeweler of the Year, as well as nominated for the American Jeweler Awards. Trust me, that’s the kind of thing that brings in beaucoup business and I wouldn’t have anything at all if it wasn’t for you. So whether you can afford it or not, I’m just charging you for cost and materials, got that?” “Michaela….” “No, I’m insisting. This is the least I can do, and I want to make your day special.” “Fine, fine, I won’t argue.” Mom didn’t raise an idiot. Well, she did, but I’m getting better about it, really. “Well, if you can stick around for a few hours, I can do up a quick 3D printing. Won’t look exactly like it for obvious reasons, but a plastic prototype will give you a generally good idea of whether this is a go or not, or if you want to change your design a little.” I look at Arturia. “You okay with that?” She gives me a smile, though I can see in her eyes that it’s the last thing she wants to do. “Sure, anything for Moon,” she tells me in a voice that sounds a bit close to doth-protest-too-much. “I’ll make it up to you,” I promise. “I know you will,” she says to me, and I immediately begin wondering how expensive this trip is going to be. Thirty minutes after we’re done with Michaela, we’re wandering around the mall and she’s got the look of a predator about her as she window shops. Funny, I never really pegged her for a fashionista. She’s hanging onto my arm, and even though she’s still in Moon’s form rather than her own, I realize I can tell the difference between the two. Her mannerisms and the like are completely different and I remark so. “Changelings are good enough at mimicry that given enough time, I probably could imitate her to the point where you might have a hard time telling us apart,” she tells me, “but those of us with the talent for shapeshifting are required to abide by a Code of Ethics. After all, if we can do it to people, others can potentially do it to us.” “Really?” That’s interesting. She nods and gives me a look. “The most infamous case was one from thirty years ago. A guy with the ability was shifting around, pretending to be various women’s husbands and significant others, getting a lot of them pregnant. So when all these women were giving birth to children that didn’t look anything like the fathers – even when we shift, our genetic makeup doesn’t magically become a copy of the target – so HIVE started to look into it. We caught the guy and found out that he was lashing out in a temper tantrum because another changeling – a woman, no less – seduced his wife by having an affair with her…as a man.” “What?” “It happens.” She looks around and when she’s sure that she doesn’t a camera or others, for a second, she flickers her body and I swear I see an identical copy of myself. “It’s uncomfortable, especially if you’re from the other gender, but we can do it. In any case, the HIVE has placed the guy in our confinement for a couple of decades, since it would be very hard for the authorities to pin it all on him. As for the women who bore his kids, well, the HIVE had to get involved to some degree or other and while I’m glad to say that in that case although many of them were more than happy to claim the child as theirs, for those that didn’t, HIVE arranged for a payment to the mother to help get them on better footing, with occasional monitoring to make sure whether or not the talent rings true.” “And what about the woman that started all of this?” “She spent five years in our women’s confinement center for rape and then we had our best magic users place a transhib on her.” I look at her weirdly and she laughs. “Sorry, term of art. Transhib is short for transformation inhibitor. It’s a spell that essentially locks them into their base form forever. Since shifting is genetic, and you can’t get rid of that unless you kill the person, HIVE just uses a transhib on them to prevent them from doing so. The more you try to use your ability, the more it feels like every cell in your body is being set on fire via nuclear weapons. It’s supposed to be painful, because to us, stealing someone’s identity is a serious matter.” I pause at that. Given what Moon told me about her trip to Canada and what had happened there, even if that Vandervort guy had lost it, he’d imitated several people, his sister included, for his ends. Granted, there were more things than just that, but it made me worry about if any changeling would ever try to imitate me. And then I thought about Katie and what I asked her earlier: as a queen, using her abilities to imitate Moon probably made her very uncomfortable. Arturia, still in Moon’s form, gives me a look that acknowledges I understand. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t realize—” “Of course you didn’t. You’re a normal human, and you’ve no idea what it’s like to have this ability,” she tells me. “Besides, what I’m doing is within the Code of Ethics, and it’s for my boss, anyway, so I’m in the clear.” I can see her frown slightly as she adds, “But…this?” she tells me, gesturing to herself as Moon. “It’s a lie. I would want the guy I was attracted to get to know me for me. Not to fall for me because I looked like someone else, you know?” She looks at me, and I have to wonder: was that an explanation, or a come on? Before I can even answer that, she leans towards me and I think I’m about to go into panic mode. “North! North Shores!” I turn towards the direction of the voice calling out to me. “Hey, you holding out on me, man?” I look in surprise, not believing who I’m seeing. “Jake?” “Fuck yeah, man! ‘Bout time you recognized, dude!” I grin; Jacob Lopez is my best friend; we were thick as thieves growing up, and keep in touch often. But why’s he here? He moved to London two years ago to study neurosurgery under some vaunted British doctor or some shit like that. Guy’s last name was probably Who or something. “Dude, what are you doing back here in LA? Didn’t you have that thing going on over in London?” “Oh, the neurosurgery thing? Yeah, finished up with that,” he tells me with a grin. “Seriously?” “I’m a quick study, you know that. Seriously, though, got through with it zero problem. But things got boring with the chicks over there, so I decided to come back home to Cali where things are smoking!” I just give him a skeptical look, though I’m glad to see him. “So how many wanted to get serious?” I ask him. “What, me? Serious? Dude, that’s your department. I just take care of the T&A!” Have I mentioned Jake is an asshole? Yeah, he really is. Don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend, but he’s always been a womanizer. The only girls that are off-limits to him are Carrie and Katie and only because they weren’t of age; I can guarantee he’d try something now. He then looks at Arturia and I can already see that look in his eyes. “So, who’s the fine lady here?” he asks, and without even bothering to inquire he’s already taking her hand and kissing it. “So, why are you with this guy and what’s it going to take to get you to switch to me?” Great, I forgot – he doesn’t really consider many people off-limits. Why am I friends with this guy again? “Dude, that’s my girl. Moon, this is Jake Lopez, my best friend. Jake, this is Moon de Lune, my girlfriend.” “Soon to be mine,” he said, giving her a wolfish smile. I look and see the brief look of worry in Arturia’s eyes and I wonder if things are about to go south very, very fast. Fortunately, she quickly withdraws her hand and says in her best “Moon is annoyed” voice, “Charmed, I’m sure.” She then looks at me. “Sweetheart, I’m sure you haven’t seen your friend in a while, so I’m sure you want to spend some time with him,” she says. “Besides, I need to meet Katie and Pumpkin on the other side of the mall.” “Hey, more girls? Sounds like a plan for me,” he says. Got to prevent this from making things worse. “No you don’t, Cassanova,” I tell him in my most affable voice. “Moon, you go off and have fun with your friends. I should be home tonight and we can trade war stories.” Arturia giggles; that’s something Moon usually doesn’t do. She then smiles and says to me, “Don’t do anything that would break my heart, okay?” Then she kisses me. Long and deep. I’m…not sure how to react to this. Clearly, Arturia knows how to kiss. Or maybe it’s because I’m kissing my dearest love in a sense. Moon, I mean. I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to her, because I guarantee she will find out. As we kiss, I can see Jake turn away for a sec, which makes me wonder, because that’s just not his style. As he does, Arturia breaks the kiss and whispers, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Moon – but she’ll probably find out anyway.” Yeah, no kidding. Kissing me once more, she then looks at Jake and says, “Try to make sure he makes it home in once piece, okay?” Jake looks at her and grins. “No promises – but if I don’t, can I take his place?” “Not in your wildest dreams, hotshot,” she tells him, waves to me, then walks off. While I’m already mentally trying to figure out how I’m going to make this up to my girl, Jake snakes his arm around my shoulder. “Dude, she’s hot. She got a twin sister or something?” Oh, you have no idea. But I look at him and say, “How long have you been back and when were you going to tell me?” “Hey, I just got back yesterday, okay? Plus, I left you messages and a couple of emails, but I guess you were too busy in Bang City to notice. So I called your brother and that’s when he told me about your hot new squeeze.” He looks at me with this shit-eating grin and adds, “So, this Moon chick – she’s gotta last all night if you turned down some hot freak like the girl your brother was telling me about.” Man, I hate it when he constantly grins. Looks like a doped-up jackal, I swear. “Look, if you want Destiny’s phone number and shit, she’s all you,” I tell him. “Trust me, you’d be taking that problem off my hands.” “Shit – dude, marriage made you soft! You got Moon and you got Destiny? You should put them together for a little Menage-a-three! Who knows? They might just like it.” He then straightens up and said, “But first things first. Let’s go drinking, okay?” “Um…sure.” I can deal with it since it’s been a while since I last saw him, right? I’m sure Moon will understand. I wake up the next morning and my head is swimming like it was slammed several times against a locker. I vaguely recall Jake and I going drinking for a bit at Balboa Island and— “Are you feeling okay?” I turn and look at Moon, who’s sitting in her alicorn form, laying down on the bed next to me. She’s got a concerned look on her face, but her wing pinions are ruffled in that way that tells me she’s both worried and irritated at the same time. I am soooooooo doomed. “So,” she begins, “you drank quite a bit, especially with your friend.” I look at her bleary-eyed, trying to figure out exactly what the hell happened last night. Last I recall, I went drinking with Jake to welcome him back and…. “You know, if you were going to be out all night, you could have called me,” she tells me in a restrained voice. “I was worried about you when I got home and you weren’t here. Fortunately, Arturia called me and said she ran into you down at South Coast.” I try to keep a straight face, but right now I want to throw up and then die. Painfully. I feel her horn against my head, and then a flush of something roil through me. “It’s hard to talk to you when you’re drunk off your ass,” she told me, looking at me with those gorgeous serpentine eyes of hers. “I bet that comes in handy,” I tell her as I feel my hangover vanish. She could probably bottle that and make a fortune off that. “I’m tempted to restore your hangover,” she tells me as she swats me with her wing. “I was worried about you, you know that?” “Sorry; I wasn’t thinking,” I admit. “Hadn’t seen Jake in ages, and he is my best friend.” “Yes. Well, he’s crashed in the guest room right now – I have him under a deep sleeping spell.” “You brought him here and you’re in your normal form?” I ask her. “Well, somepony had to bring you home from the bar after it closed,” she reminded me, “and I have no idea where he lives. So, you’re going to straighten this out while I go pretend to be your devastatingly gorgeous and understanding live-in girlfriend, okay?” “Um, sure,” I say as I get out of bed. “After all, he’s already seen us kiss, right?” she says, and I immediately freeze up, then look at her in shock. She smiles and says, “Yes, Arturia told me about that, too.” I am soooooooooo dead. “Yes, you are, but I’ll forgive you eventually,” she tells me as a wide grin comes over her muzzle. “Now go solve our little problem.” Jake looks at her and says, “Hot as hell, and can cook. What can I do to get you to dump this loser and come my way?” She gives him a smile and says, “Sorry, I already have him bedtrained.” “I bet I can be better,” he says to her and honestly I have no idea if he’s joking or not. “I’ll take my chances,” she says, snuggling closer to me, reminding me why I’m the luckiest guy in the world. “Yeah, well, can’t say I won’t try my hardest. I like a challenge,” he says and gives that grin that I swear I want to punch. Yeah, my best friend, folks – what can you do, right? I put an arm around her waist and hold her body closer to mine. “Well, the way I figure it, Jake, you can try all you want…but I hit the jackpot. I’m absolutely not letting Moon go.” Though I can’t see her face at the moment, I know she’s smiling and sure enough, a second later I feel the touch of lips against my cheek, letting me know I did good. “Yeah, lucky you. I’m jealous as hell, you know that?” That wasn’t an answer I expected from him. “You?” He nods. “First, you find the perfect girl in Rachel. I swear, when I saw her, I wanted her so bad, but clearly she only had eyes for you. And now it’s happening all over again.” Surprisingly, he glared at me. “At some point, I swear, I’m going to end up with the perfect girl, not you, homie.” “Is that a challenge?” I ask him lightly. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, why not?” He looks at Moon. “May as well prepare to be mine, girl.” She looks at him evenly. “You know the way out,” is all she tells him. He catches a cab back to where he’s staying at. He tells me there’s no hard feelings, and that he’s sure that it’ll all straighten out. But I know Jake well enough to know that when he has his mind set on things, he’s not going to back down until some other girl catches his eye or Moon and I get married. That’s okay, I know she’s not going anywhere…and I’m already working on that latter part, so no worries there. “I cannot believe the nerve of that man!” As I close the door, I turn to see Moon’s eyes blazing like twin stars of anger. She’s still human, but I suspect that’s more because she’s a little too angry to change right now. “Sweetie, I never doubted you for a moment. That’s why I called his bluff.” She crosses her arms and I wonder if I’m in trouble again. “I am not a thing to be bartered, North! I am a goddess and a princess and—” “Retired goddess and princess, as I recall,” I tell her as I lean forward and kiss her as I pull her closer. “And you mean more to me than either of those.” She sighs and melts into my arms and apparently all is forgiven, at least for now. “That’s an answer I can accept,” she says to me with a smile. Glad to know I still got it.
