Bark at the Moon

Your long Diamond Dog arms pull out a metallic limb from under your bed. Sitting back, you snap it lazily onto your stump. You call it your "tin leg", although it's probably not made of tin. Much more likely it's some other smart-ass, lightweight, pony-made alloy. Who cares.

That prosthetic chunk doesn't really help you much in the way of mobility; in fact, you can move pretty easily without it, using your huge Diamond Dog forearms as a natural crutch. This metal thing slows you down, if anything, but at least it can provide something to lean on. as opposed to putting weight on your arms all the time. And if you're going to that old house - the "library" as you call it in front of the few ponies willing to lend an ear - it's best to have something to rest on after clambering up all those steps. Seriously, ponies are obsessed with showy staircases and towers and big, fancy buildings here.

At least there's no chance of a cave-in here. That's always good.

*******

Shortly after filling your stomach (hot buttery toast, with a focus on the butter), you pour some of your many bits into an empty backpack and pull open the door of your apartment. There's only a few flights of stairs which, since you're going down, is easy enough for you to navigate without too much hassle, not that many ponies would offer help to a hulking canine twice their size. There is, however, this one fellow that you met a few weeks ago...

"Oh, hey, nice to see you again, friend," a familiar face greets you at the ground floor; a slightly tired young donkey, heading back from his daily job. You think he runs a clothing or accessory shop? In Canterlot, it's rarely anything else. "Off to that library again?"

You smile and hum, practising your Let's-Not-Scare-Away-Ponies face, just in case you'll need it later. "No such thing as too much reading," you reply, "and it's that time when there's nobody on the streets but the, er, library is still open."

This is pretty much the best time of day for you - most inhabitants are well on their way home if not already there, so there's less eyes to pry at hobbling fur-bags with fangs and claws. Plus, the young ponies (er, colts? Fillies? Foals? Whatever they're called) are almost never outside at this time, so less tiny hooves pointing at you from a distance or, occasionally, running off screaming. Ugh.

Also, he doesn't need to know where you really get your books from.

"Well, have fun then," the donkey chimes before having a brief thought. "Say, perhaps you'd be interested in coming around to my apartment tomorrow night? We're having a cider-bash, and I'm sure there'll be plenty of locals who'd be willing to give you a chance. Heck, you might even catch the eye of some fine mares!"

You blink.

"Oh. Right." The donkey coughs in embarrassment, "I wasn't sure if you liked Equestrians or not, I was just throwing it out there..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," you wave away his blabbering with a paw, "I appreciate the invite. While I don't exactly chase mares, I can see the beauty in one. Thing is, I never make a move to hit on them because they never sniff my butt first."

Aaand that's what the face of a confused donkey looks like.

"That was a joke," you explain. "We don't sniff butts."

"Oh thank goodness, that was getting awkward..."

*******

The sky burns low with a dark, yet vivid shade of amber. The sun is taking a final bow before its daily departure beyond Canterlot mountains. Two brilliant figures stand side-by-side on the royal balcony overlooking the distant plains for Equestria. Both majestic, both beautiful, both different, yet the same. The elder - a godly white mare, tall and noble - bows her head towards the ending daylight, her horn softly glowing as she gives the sun one last push downwards

The younger of the two - respectably similar in stature, but with a dark blue coat that seemed to absorb any light to touch her - is already casting her own personal spell. Soon enough, the familiar alabaster orb rises from a distant horizon, slowly banishing the darkness the sun's absence left. One by one, specks of light flare up, coming to greet the moon, until the black canvas above is painted with constellations.

Night has arrived.

The tall white one breathes a sigh of relief, her duties of the day now finally at an end. Her counterpart's wings give a content flick; the hours of her own dominion have only just begun. Simultaneously, the two siblings turn away from the balcony, and return to their respective royal chambers.

"The usual schedule tonight, dear Luna?" the taller one asks. "The dreams of our subjects are usually calmest this time of year, so I'd say you have another easy night ahead of you."

Luna does little to hide the spring in her step; a night with few nightmares means a night free to herself. "Indeed I do, but worry not; I shall have plenty to occupy myself with, sister. Your protege's former home being my first stop, for example."

Celestia pauses for a moment, hoofsteps and all - did Luna just say..?

"Twilight's old home, before she moved away? Why in Equestria would you want to go there? It's been abandoned for years."

Luna chuckles. "Don't fret, sister. I simply want to see what Twilight's life was like before destiny called her to Ponyville. She spent most of her life behind those doors, after all."

Celestia quietly hums to herself in thought; of all the wondrous things about the modern age she had introduced to her sister, the idea of showing Luna the life and times of her savior - or rather, the unifier of the six elements that saved her - had never really occurred to her.

"And I assume you, sister," Luna continues, "will be with that new friend of yours tonight? That... suitor, as you call him?"

The elder goddess rolls her eyes. "Please, it's been over a hundred years since my last suitor. You speak as if I'd gotten over him yesterday. Besides, when are you planning to get one yourself? Surely it's been over a thousand years since your last... well, experience?"

The princess of the night simply shrugs. "That it has. I've never given it much thought, to be honest. I suppose my first new experience should be something that counts."

"Suit yourself, Luna. I'll be in my royal quarters. Don't come knocking."

*******

At this moment in time, you relish the fantasy of slapping the equine architect who thought it would be a good idea to put a home atop a huge, spiraling staircase. Since you come to this abandoned please at least three, maybe four times a week, this fantasy is a rather common one.

On the bright side, you're most likely healthy in terms of physical cardio because of this. It's fortunate that your beefy Diamond Dog forearms compensate for your missing rear leg, but the exhaustion when you reach the top? You thought you'd have been used to this by now.

You decide to take a break, as you so often do, near the top of the winding, pearly staircase. Sitting on the uppermost step, you rest your tin-leg at a comfortable angle and soak in the view of Canterlot's streets and buildings, the glimmering stars and moon above, the warm glow of the street-lamps below. A bustling city by day that, while some establishments are still open at this hour, still feels so quiet by night. Of course, quiet is just how you like it.

As much as you miss the camaraderie of other Diamond Dogs, and the familiar darkness of the caves, you admit this city is starting to grow on you, even if the inhabitants... well, aren't. And the sky, too - you used to feel uneasy with a sky being as high up as it is; the illusion of falling upwards forever is so stupid, but it still gave you chills. Now, you almost look forward to the cosmic dance of sky, especially at night. The stars that puncture the black sheet above like so many needles... the moon's assertive glow that lights up the surrounding clouds... the strange black shape swooping in your direction at an alarming rate oh gods WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?

You scramble down a couple of marble steps just in time for the strange figure to glide over you. It's a big flying pony - a pegasus? - as far as you can tell. Likely female, given the slender frame. While your canine eyes are usually great at picking out details in the dark, discerning this creature's fur against the night sky is a challenge in itself. The equine doesn't even seem to acknowledge your existence as it pushes the house's door open all mysterious-like. What, does she think she's better than you just because you're not from around here!? She'll come to regret that.

You take a deep breath and try to stand up, your mind and mouth ready to blast her ears with a selection of good, old-fashioned Diamond Dog slurs and insults. But as you try to find your feet, your tin-leg misses an alabaster step, causing you to stumble. That stumble becomes a fall, and that fall results in your face becoming painfully acquainted with smooth marble. Your grunt of pain is ignored entirely by the offending tall pony; she's already through the open door and out of sight.

That's when your grunt turns into a snarl.