Lucky And The Search For Friends.

by shiny pichu

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Human, Alternate Universe
Length: 17666

Ponypocalyptic, Ponypocalypses, make for very sad ponies. Sad ponies need friends, and now all Lucky needs to do is find some.

Based in the Ponies After People universe.

Ponypocalyptic, Ponypocalypses, make for very sad ponies. Sad ponies need friends, and now all Lucky needs to do is find some. But where to look? That's not something Lucky knows how to do.

But she does know not to give up! Like that flying thing, she'll get it eventually!

No matter how many headaches she may get from it.

———–

Yay cover art! Thanks to Keetah Spacecat as they are called on skype, I forget what there called on here though, so they or someone else will have to correct me if I'm wrong. Any ways its thanks to them, and they are great cause this looks really spick and spanny so thanks again!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-18 02:58:03 UTC

May 23-24

May 23 2015

Dear Diary

It’s been awhile since I've got you, and only now am i writing in you. it almost seems unfair doesn't it? Sorry that I haven’t I've just never found the time before. Before. Before. It’s a very final yet vague sounding word ain't it? No deniability about what was before, yet still questions raised by wondering what exactly is being talked about. When I say before I could be talking simply about past life experiences, what I did for lunch yesterday, and anything in between. In this case however I'm talking about the total extinction of an entire race, culture, history, and way of life. All those thing people worry about when it comes to small groups of people slowly rotting away in small shacks, and it makes me so upset, and I just don't know what to do, and help me help me help me help me help me help me!

I'm sorry let me get back on track. If you noticed anything in the last little paragraph of mine, you’ll note that I have made a rather disturbing realization, and that being that everyone is gone. zero people. none. zilch! They didn't even leave a note on the counter. But how can I be certain of this? Well the fact that all of down town Calgary is dead silent is probably a huge freaking give away! Sure the city can be dead silent during the night, but it usually gets pretty freaking busy come daytime, especially during the middle of the afternoon. But back up a little and you’ll note that I said that everyone was gone, in the context that there was a mass extinction of humans or something, well considering I'm human shouldn't I be included in that body count? Well then I laugh at your naivety of the complexity of life, because as it turns out I'm not even human any more! I'm some walking furred abomination of nature, and I don't know what I'm suppose to do in this scenario, and oh god the coyotes are going to eat me, I can hear one right now, I swear its in the same room as me and

OH GOD PLEASE DON’T EAT ME MR. COYOTE, I SWEAR I'M NOT A TASTY FURRED ABOMINATION!

--*--

There was a small sliver of sunshine peeking through the curtain, like a small child trying to get the best angle through the door, with which to see what the grown ups were up to. In this particular case the grown up (if you could even call them that) was silently sobbing there eyes out, underneath a rather small bed that was situated in the corner of an abominable looking room. Though it always looked messy, it looked particularly messy today, due to all the sheets that had been haphazardly thrown around the room.

If one were to look at the grown up in their current state they would see what was a particularly miserable looking one, with messy frazzled hair, red eyes, a puffy nose, and large globs of fresh tears cascading across there face every few seconds. They had that look one gets, when they find out a particular pet or person they have a fondness for, has not only just died, but it was in a very messy, very painful way, and the herald of this terrible news has not gone out of there way to soften the blow one bit.

they would also see the face, of a rather small being, that has never before been seen on the face of the planet earth, but that's almost a given. I mean how else are they going to get underneath the miserable excuse for a bed?

--*--

May 24 2015

Dear Journal

I read over the last entry I made, and I gotta say, wow was I ever upset. I don’t think I can be really blamed in this scenario but still, it might have made sense to practice a little bit of self control and get myself situated. Instead I spent the rest of the day quietly sobbing underneath the bed. joy.

If you're wondering why I described myself as not tasty furred abomination (which I'm not, I'm just a furred thing), It’s because I seem to have completely changed in shape, and I am not even a shape shifter. Before I could be charitably be called, a guy you see in the background who's just kinda there, at least appearance wise. Now though I’d stick out like a sore thumb.

I'm small, standing about as high as 4 feet, though that's not how tall I am most of the time, because it’s really hard to stand, like pretty much impossible. My body is now covered with fur of a nice light orange colour, I also seem to have hair on my, rather large head (in comparison to my body), that's a nice dark red colour, and just kinda falls down all around my head and kinda in front of my face (it's short enough I can still see fine, but it's always just kinda hanging in front of my face), no matter what I do, and I also seem to have a tail of the same colour as my ‘hair’, that doesn't brush against the floor, so that's a potential tripping hazard out of the way.

Oh also I have wings of the same colour as my fur. Otherwise I would have guessed I was some kinda new dog (though I don't have paws I have, what i can only assume, are hooves as a replacement). I know I'm not really making a big deal of it but believe me the novelty wore off when I realized they didn't really do anything. they just kinda sit there on the sides of my. . . Chest? Anyway's there boring, and just point to the idea I'm some sort of failed animal hybrid, which is depressing.

But wait, if I don't have hands and have weird hooves as replacements, how am I writing any of this out? Well lets just say that, though it maybe hell at first, typing things out by holding a pen in your mouth, and pressing the keys one at a time with the tip, gets surprisingly easy with practice. Auto correct is a godsend though, and I'm glad that using a track pad is just as possible with a pen as it is with fingers.

Any-who! Yesterday I eventually fell asleep under the bed, and now that I've woken up fresh-ish, I've got the energy that only pure blunt trauma can give you. well okay it usually doesn't give you energy, but at the very least I'm in too much shock to really care. that's a thing right? Anyway's I've got the up and go that only a good rest, and three cans of red bull can get ya, and before I actually get to said up and go I'm going to list what I need at the very moment.

1.water (water is life as they say) say 500 bottles

2.non perishable foods and lots of it

3.books? (to pass the time)

4.printer ink (I was already low, so might as well get some more)

5.a phone (for the maps! not cause I'm expecting anyone to try and call me or anything. Also my cellphone is broke.)

6.???

7.Success.

8.there is no number 8 why am I still writing this.

Well now that that's settled, it’s time to actually go and get these things, no sense in wasting daylight. I’ll write in you when I come back successful, till then later Journal!

-

I failed miserably. I don’t even wanna talk about. Also I have a sneaking suspicion something is wrong with me, as my voice is surprisingly high pitch, and the er downstairs is feeling surprisingly small. Gonna go check myself in the bathroom after getting some food, cause I have not eaten at all today, or yesterday now that I think about. Hopefully its nothing major, but it's certainly been prevalent enough to become bothersome. like the cloths, though really sleep wear is not designed for outdoor use.

Anyway's, till later journal.

--*--

The pain in his tail had been awful, and as such, he had made measures to ensure that the pain would no longer be an issue, namely by ripping a hole in the back of his pyjama bottoms (don’t ask how, it was a miracle the things didn't rip in half entirely) rectifying the problem. How ever after a rather fruitless day of trying to gather supplies, he felt a new pain. A pain in his sides. His new wings were acting up. Surprised he made as much of a hurry as one can, at a slow wobbling pace, towards the bathroom. Ultimately it didn't matter where he was in his apartment, when he checked to see what the problem was, but the bathroom, especially a nice bathroom, always has a unique sense of security and privacy one can’t find in other parts of a living space.

He hurried into the bathroom, and almost as soon as he closed the door, began to make a wild grab towards his shirt in order to remove the offending cage, and as soon as it was off, his wings flared open, in a startling display of life and power, almost completely opposite to their behaviour during the rest of the day. He felt himself gasping for air, ever so slightly.

Having already earlier decided to check himself for any complications, he began to inspect his new upper body. It was very much like a dogs, covered in fur, a muzzle like appearance to his nose and mouth, large pointy ears, and a neck that almost, in his opinion, flowed into the rest of the body, in stark contrast to the human neck which stuck out as a part of a pole, on which the head rested (which it technically did). the only major differences, were the hooves in replacement of paws, the more horse like appearance of the muzzle (or would that be snout, or whatever they call horse faces, either way it was pretty obvious he was a horse now, and a pegasus at that, how weird), and the rather large head and eyes (the head he could understand actually, human brains were a lot larger than horse ones, probably. . .). He eyed his new appearance wearily. eventually deciding that his top half was fine, if a little petite looking, but he had never really worked out, but he had never really pigged out either, so that was fine, he made to remove his pyjama bottoms.

There was a rather generous pause. An outside observer would have noted the pause to be almost a minute and a half. Then they would have noted the very distinctly feminine, and rather loud scream.

Lucas Tracy, recent graduate of William Aberhart high school, currently 18 coming on 19, currently living alone, had just received a rather nasty notice on one of the many thing, that had changed about his body.

Quietly she trudged over to the kitchen, got a bucket of chocolate ice cream, trudged back to her spot underneath the miserable bed, and very vocally sobbed, well downing the entire thing of ice cream, in 5 minutes, then sobbing into the bucket regardless. She belatedly realized what number six on her list should be, and that was ice cream. Because one bucket was not going to be enough, not by a long shot.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------------------

May 26

May 26 2015

Dear Journal

Only just started writing in you, and already I've missed a day. Just goes to show you how well I am at keeping my shit together huh. though to be honest not much happened yesterday either. I sat (laid down? all I know is that I was resting) underneath my my bed crying, and occasionally getting up and, very slowly, trotting (that’s what horses do right?) to the kitchen to grab whatever I could hold in my clumsy hooves to eat. I am officially out of food now, and I'm getting low on water bottles. Though I suppose I could always just drink from the tap, but that wouldn't taste very good. Probably wouldn't taste very good. I have also discovered, through extensive experimentation, that I can no longer stand the taste of meat, which basically cuts down on the food I have in stock from, reasonable but definitely need some more grub, too, you're out and you need to find more grub now brah, and veggie grub at that.

What caused such an emotional break down? oh just another shocking revelation, that has flipped my mind upside down, and then brutally stomped on it. The first revelation was surprisingly easy to come to terms with, that being that I am now a pegasus (a small pony sized pegasus as I have managed to piece together, through intuition, and a book on horses reminding me that horses are large, and ponies are small horses), cause despite how shocking that is, go to sleep one day, wake up the next as a mythical flying mini horse, it's still actually kinda cool. Even if there's no one around to share it with. I mean come on, I am now a small mythical. . . pony? Ya pony, that can fly through the air, and can apparently still talk in English at that! Granted I haven’t figured out how to fly yet, but still the ability must be there, I mean how else would I have wings?

The second revelation was. . . a bit more upsetting to say the least. Not even short term upsetting, but that kinda long term upsetting that puts you in a perpetual funk, that just kinda hangs over you. Well just to keep things simple and to the point, I’ll just up and say that I am a mare (the official name for female horses/ponies) now, or a girl as you humans out there might say. Yes I don’t know why I didn't immediately notice that my male genitalia (my that's a smart sounding, yet also dirty sounding word) had done a flip flop and become female, but to be honest, would you have really noticed what with the immediate shock have having changed species entirely? Well maybe you would have, but the point here is that I did not.

The book on horses was rather useful, especially as a taste test to see if horses could eat paper. Turns out they can but it's just as disgusting as when I was human. Now you may be asking why did I eat the book on horses? Probably for the same reason I spent yesterday crying under the bed, I was in a funk.

Anyway's, I'm relatively over it now. Well I mean I can do things, but it’s still really difficult, cause when I start to think about it. . . All right I'm putting off thinking about it for now. Really that might be for the best, cause it’s been three days, and I still haven’t got anywhere as to figuring out what the heck is going on. That's sad. I'm a failure at making progress. . .

No! Don’t think about. Focus on what you have to do, and that would be getting supplies. It’s too bad I never thought about making an apocalypse bunker, cause that would probably be really useful in this scenario, I mean they got all the stuff ya need, like water, food, warm blankets, radios, tiddlywinks (whatever those are), books, and of course food and water. Plus there places designed for panicking in.

Oh! Maybe I should get a radio, those are helpful in apocalypses right? Then again maybe the apocalypse didn't happen and I'm just out of the loop on popular trends, and what wars are going on right now. though it’s been 3 days, I'm a mythical pony, and there's still no activity on the streets. If only there were more fires, than I would be able to tell if this was the apocalypse or not.

Anyway's, here goes attempt number two at getting those supplies! Wish me luck! (No I still don’t want to talk about attempt number one.)

--*--

She took a shaky step towards the stairs. Then another. Trotting came surprisingly easy, getting any good speed on it, was another matter entirely. Lucas Tracy took a deep breath. Then another. Then another step. Progress. She gave a wildly excited grin, which served to give her new appearance, an almost feral like look, though any actual intimidation factor that could have come from it was severely reduced, considering how docile her new appearance was. Docile but unknown and scary to think about, familiar but different to all her preconceived notions, Cute to look at but. . . Still maddening to look at all the same.

Another step. The rather distinct clop noises that hooves made on tile floor was rather surprising when she first heard it. She inwardly scowled at herself, she had lived in calgary all his life, she should have known hooves made loud noises on hard surfaces. Another step, another clop. It was a nice indication of progress at the very least. Lucas made to high five herself. Instead she fell to the floor as her front hooves came up, and moved to come together.

Grumbling to herself, especially over the embarrassing little yelp she made as she was falling, Lucas picked herself up, and almost tried to stand on her two back hooves, before remembering that she now walked on four hooves, not two feet. Another few steps and she made it to the first major obstacle on her “quest”, and that being the stairs to the main lobby. On her first venture out it had been a major source of pain and misery. Lucas grit her teeth.

Carefully, slowly, tentatively, she placed a hoof down on the first step. Then another step. Then another. And another. Finally she made it down the first set of stairs. Looking back at her first successfully completed trial, she gaped a little at how she managed to complete it without screwing up.

Her face broke out in a wild grin once more, and giving a little hop and shout of “woohoo!” she felt new energy and passion. She had gotten down one set of stairs. She could clear the others no problem.

15 minutes later, Lucas was out the main doors, and trotting happily down Rundlehorn Drive NE. She was one step closer to getting the first step of her, as she charitably (though she thought it was perfectly workable) called it "the survival plan". A pause in her steps, as a sudden realization hits her. considering how hard it was to just get down the stairs, on her own. . .

How was she going to get all her supplies back up to her apartment?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------------------

May 29

May 29 2015

I'm only writing at this point, because I think I might be in too much shock to do much else. Finally made it to my parents house today. The neighbourhood was a bit of a mess, Which was surprising, and a bit of a warning bell right off the bat, considering that my parents lived in one of those older neighbourhoods were everyone is rather old, and has grand kids, or young adult children. Yes lived, past tense. They’re gone. Gone gone gone gone gone. I can only assume they went with everyone else, in whatever sudden mass exodus happened, and didn't bother to let me know. I know I can be a bit of a brat sometimes, but come on, I'm just your average son, I'm not that bad.

Unless they didn't leave. . . Maybe they're simply out? Maybe me and my parents are the only survivors of the ponypocalypse, maybe they're out getting supplies, and setting up base, and doing all those sensible things that parents do in a crisis. . . But dad’s phone is still there, mom's day planner (she never goes anywhere without it), dad’s utility knife, mom's favourite sun hat, dad didn't even take his wallet, and he never leaves the house without his wallet. Everything's still here, intact, in place, it looks like the house always looked during the day, and when everybody was around, but there's no people. No mom. No dad. Nobody. Not even a note on the kitchen table.

They couldn't possibly. . . But then that means. . . Oh god. . . Oh god. . . they couldn't possibly be. . .

Dead?

--*--

The sun shone brightly on the yard, proudly bouncing off and around the various bright lovely colours, such as green, yellow, brick red, wood brown, cherry red, sky blue, and plain white, which the sun jumped off of with particular enthusiasm. every colour was a trampoline, a destination, a place to be. All except one particular colour, black. If white was the bounciest trampoline in the world, black was a tar pit, catching colours, and dragging them down, the more they struggled, the more they stuck. The light bounced off of several other colours, a simple light orange, and dark red, along with a bit of a dusty plain grey (the loose trampoline of colours), and 4 identical dark blues.

Lucas sat on the porch of her parents house and stared. She stared nowhere in particular, she just stared. She stared at the flowers, standing beautifully in full bloom. She stared at the long grass, in desperate need of a trimming. She stared at her father's beautifully maintained garden, and her mother's expertly constructed shed. Or was it the other way around? Lucas didn't know. Lucas barely remembered it was so long ago. He and his parents had lived in this house for 16 years, and now with a single night they were. . . they weren't here. She stared at a bumble bee weaving it’s intricate pattern of loops and turns, It’s beautiful natural dance. She got up and slowly trotted back into the house.

It was a nice house, a modest one. Simple knick-knacks lined the shelves, various benign photographs hung on the walls, simple posh furniture dotted the rooms. It was everything one expects to see in a ‘parent generation’ house. Homey, personal, comfy. Lucas sat in the living room and analysed the pictures lining the walls. There was one of his family's trip to Hawaii when he was 13, his most recent extended family reunion (even then there weren't many people) photo when he was 15, a picture from a school play he took part in when he was 6. all of these memories of his life that seemed so clear to her through these timeless pieces of history. There were still plenty of other photos. A picture of his father on a 1960’s motorcycle of some brand (he never bothered to learn the name), a photo of his mother baking cookies with his great grandmother (what was she like?), a photo of his father shaking hands with his brother (his, her, uncle), a photo of his mother and fathers wedding day (how did they meet?), and other snippets into life long passed. Forever immortalized. Lucas had never bothered to really get to know her parents, and now. . . now they. . . they. . .

they were gone.

She couldn't help it. Her face scrunched up in a miserable frown, her new ears drooped, and tears formed in her eyes. Lucas began to cry. She cried very hard, over opportunities passed, over people never known, over parents gone (parents dead), over the way the sky didn't cry, over the small ache on the bottom of her hooves, over the strain of her wings begging to be set free. She cried long and hard. The light kept bouncing.

Then she laughed. Over no particular thing. She simply laughed a dark morbid chuckle. clouds formed. The light had difficulty bouncing.

Then she started to scream. She screamed in anger. In betrayal. In pain. In despair. In (righteous) fury of the world. Her head pressed painfully against the floor, in an angry prayer. She ran to the wall, positioned her back hooves to face the general direction of the wall, and kicked out with as much power as her fury and anger could muster. Every picture on that wall, the motorcycle, the beach, the cooking, all fell to the ground with a loud clatter, and a loud shatter, along with various knick-knacks and ornaments. She stepped back and examined her work. It wasn't enough.

For the rest of the evening, and well into the night, a pony worked at breaking the past into as many pieces as possible.

Her screams of anger matching the chilling howls of the night with equal ferocity and power.

Lucas Tracy was dead. And in his place stood a pony with no name.

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May 30-31

[writing is very shaky and almost totally illegible. There are still many spelling mistakes prevalent]

May 30 2015

I feel betrayed. I feel like someone offered there hand to pull me up, then let me fall down again just as they were pulling me up, in fact I feel a million times worse, like a close friend coldly pushed me down a flight of stairs, simply cause I made a single comment that they didn’t like. Some malevolent force has taken everything away from me, and life, nor god, nor whatever higher power exists out there has done anything to stop, or even help me in my time of need.

But mostly I feel betrayed by my family.

Parents are suppose to be there when you're young, parents are suppose to raise and nurture you, they’re suppose give you advice when you're first starting to make your way in the world, and they’re supposed to be around to embarrass you in front of your own kids, with stories of your childhood/teen years, and then pass on in a tearful farewell when you're 45. They aren’t suppose to be gone when your only 18, they aren’t suppose to leave when you're in a pickle. They aren’t suppose to be gone yet!

And now i’m alone. Alone, trapped, and with no one to comfort me. What am I suppose to do now, what point is there in surviving? What point is there doing anything?

[tear marks partly cover the bottom third page. Only a few snippets here and there are readable]

Why                                              help me

                       death          What do I do?                                                             pointless?

  no future, no hope?                                                 misery

                who                            why

help me                                 alone

                                                                              dying                         death

misery

Help me I’m scared.

--*--

The worst kind of sadness, is the crushing kind. Whether it be the soul crushing variety, hope crushing, dream crushing, happiness crushing, and all the ones in between, and in front and behind, crushing sadness is awful.The worst thing about it is that it often leaves one inbetween worlds, in between consciousness. When one is simply sad they are often still in our world, the world of life and energy, as sadness at its most formal level is simply another emotion in life that is needed to add variety, or context, or to even let our world work at all. When sadness is informal, when it shows its true appearance, when it embraces you, or you embrace it, at its fullest potential?

It is a damming feeling, that can break one into a million pieces.

A bumblebee lazily drifted in the sky. A bird briefly paused, and gave a quick look at it’s surroundings, before going back to worm hunting. A cat stretched out, in that way cats are so often to do, and quietly made its way back into it’s owner's abandoned house (it had found itself forced to get it’s own food recently, something that put it into a particularly miffed mood), all the while a stray dog dined on some particularly nice scraps it found.

A pony lay curled up in the darkest part of the basement, of a recently trashed house. There was no rocking back and forth, no crying, the pony simply lay there, almost completely motionless, aside from the slight rise and fall of its chest, indicating it was still alive. The wind rustled some grass, the leaves danced on the trees, and a metal bowl that had been teetering on a kitchen counter, some thirty blocks away from the pony finally tipped, and toppled noisily to the floor. The sun beamed brighter than ever. All over the country, the continent, various individuals tirelessly carried out work at survival. Various individuals carelessly embraced in the freedom of a non regulated society. And various individuals noisily screamed at the world. Some individuals simply did what the pony in the basement did.

They silently cried, without moving a muscle.

--*--

[writing is much more legible. There are still many spelling mistakes prevalent]

May 31 2015

Yesterday was horrible. Yesterday was the worst day of my life. It’s almost funny really, I always thought the worst day of my life would involve a lot more actual terrible physical events happening to me. Hell I thought the worse day of my life used to be a very, very, horrible school dance back in middle school, but yesterday tops that by a lot! Todays a little better. Still pretty bad, but atleast it’s not yesterday. Yesterday I felt broken. Today I just feel empty.

I haven’t been up to much, aside from eating almost every edible thing still left in the house. I was hungry alright, I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Should probably stop eating so much in one go, it’s not good for the body. Should also probably start rationing, all the abundant premade food isn’t gonna last forever, though i could always learn how to cook. . .

Ya I better start rationing.

I. . . I don’t know what to do now. I feel confused, hurt, angry, and so many other things right now. . . I wish I had a friend.

--*--

She had decided to take a walk. just a simple one. Walks were suppose to clear the head. Walks were for when one wanted to calm down. So she walked (rather she trotted) around the neighbourhood. It was cloudy today, a dark overcast. For some reason she didn’t mind the cloudy sky. She almost wanted to simply jump up there and touch the cloud. To get away from it all.

She sighed and trotted on.

Then she felt a raindrop on her snout. It was a small one, barely noticeable, but very clearly felt simply from the speed it was going at. The sign of more rain. A few more stray drops plummeted to the ground, like a diver taking a leap from a tall cliff, and left noticeable little splashes in their wake. Then it started to rain in earnest. It wasn't a heavy rain, or a hard rain, it was a summer rain. Light a cheerful, friendly and playful.

At first she didn't know what to make of it. Then she felt something fresh in her heart, something she hadn't really felt in what felt like an eternity (since yesterday, and the day before that), something that started to fill that hollow cavity in her chest.

She felt happy to be alive.

She didn't know how long she spent out in the rain, frolicking, playing, laughing. She moved as fast as she could in the rain, trying to pick up her pace from a trot, to a canter, to a gallop, and though she failed she still laughed and took joy in the moment itself. She hopped about in the rain, trying to catch raindrops with her tongue, she rolled in the grass for no reason at all, she even tried to jump into the air and fly, though that always ended with her sprawled on the ground ever so slightly dazed, and she laughed all the while.

and just like that the rain stopped.

She lay down in the grass, sprawled in an awkward position on her pack, her wings splayed out on the ground. The sky still had a heavy overcast, but now it felt somehow. . . lighter? She simply lay there and took in all of the world around her. And then she started to think.

Lucas Tracy was dead. There was no denying that. whatever presence he had in the world, was either meaningless, or gone now. Any credentials he had, worthless with no one else around. His social life was also gone, his family was dust in the wind, he wasn't even in the right gender or body any more. Everything that really made Lucas Tracy Lucas Tracy, was gone. Everything but his mind (his memories really, cause was she even really sure that this was his mind any more). What use did the name Lucas Tracy have, if there was nothing of Lucas Tracy really left. That was that then. She was no longer Lucas Tracy.

She cast her gaze towards the sky. A smile, a very genuine and happy smile crept across her face. The rain had made her feel alive again, and if anything this new, nameless mare, was lucky to be alive, and so to celebrate those two things, and because everypony needed a name, she had the perfect name in mind for herself.

Lucky Raindrops.

And for some reason it just felt so. . . right.

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June 1

June 1 2015

Dear Diary

Hello there diary, my name is Lucky Raindrops, and I'm writing in this sweet new journal diary I found! It looks like someone's already written in this, but there's still plenty of empty pages, so I still have plenty of room left to write down all of my wonderful insights of life in the pages remaining! So a pleasure to meet you diary, and I hope we become good friends!

Ha! Had you all there for a second didn't I? For a second it seemed like I was a completely different pony, didn't it? Well it’s still technically me Lucas Tracy. But at the same time it is a different person pony writing in this journal now. Kinda.

I'm making the effort to change, mostly, and I'm not sure if I should be happy or not that I'm adapting to changing as well as I am. I guess you could think about it in a metaphorical sense, ya know like a drowning man mare clinging to a piece of driftwood, or something like that but I've never been the most poetic of people ponies. But ya know I'm not gonna dwell on it, cause I've resolved to not worry about things so much, which is probably the only way I'm gonna get through any of this sane. Embrace your new nature I guess. And in case you're wondering Diary, yes I am now going by the name Lucky Raindrops. I know it sounds stupid to you, but for me it just feels. . . appropriate? It’s kinda like how certain words just work better for certain things, like they were meant to be or something.

Writing this early in the day so nothing exciting has happened yet, but I have big plans for today. Today I'm gonna learn how to fly! How you may ask? Well I remember how birds are said to throw their young out of the nest when there wings are developed enough, in a flight or fright like scenario? Well I'm gonna pull off something like that, and throw myself off of higher elevations, not big ones mind you, but enough so that I have some distant between the ground and the air when I do jump. Is this risky? Probably, but it’s something I gotta do, cause I gotta learn how to fly. I just gotta. . .

Something feels missing, and I don’t know what.

--*--

Pawing at the swing unsteadily, Lucky Raindrops took in her surroundings. A small park bench, a simple set of swings (one flat board like swing, one baby seat swing), a teeter totter, some monkey bars, a garbage bin, a bike path, some trees, the gravel pit, and of course some pillows to catch her if she fell. gravel hurt, and Lucky was never quite sure why people liked to put it into their playgrounds, where kids (foals?) played and got hurt, it just didn't seem very safe.

Perhaps being alone for a week and a few days had made her reckless, perhaps the emotional roller coaster she had been on for the past week and 2 days had made it difficult for her to really care, whatever the reason Lucky stood at the top of a relatively high children's slide (oh my god she was so high up) preparing to do something that, in the right state of mind, seemed perfectly rational and efficient. Mind you this was not the right state of mind to have at any time, but it was her current state of mind regardless.

She kicked at the slide a little, creating a small dust cloud, and gave a small snort. her hoodie had been taken off for this particular experiment, as she needed her wings if she ever wanted to fly. she backed up on what little flat space the slide had, and steeled her nerves. A bead of sweat trailed down the right side of her face at an agonizingly slow pace. All sounds in the general vicinity seemed to stop in silent anticipation of the approaching moment. The wind shifted in a dramatic flourish, to create the perfect conditions for flying. The sun shined on happily ignoring every second of the current scene. A pair of eyes watched silently from an overgrown hedge. A flower wilted. A cloud moved. A nerve twitched. A gulp forced it’s way down Lucky’s throat. She licked her lips, as they felt dry.

She gave as much speed as she possibly could, and lept into the air in a dramatic bound, left front leg outstretched, right held tightly to the side, both rear legs stretched out as far as they could, wings spread out in preparation for lift off, a steely eyed look on her face, the look of a champion, the look of an explorer, the look that all great men and women have when they are about to achieve the impossible, her mane and tail blew back from the force, and served almost as a cape, the classic superman pose in all it’s glory, be used for what it was always meant to be used for (aside from not being done by a human), the power of unaided flight, the power humans had searched for since time began!

Lucky promptly fell to the ground like a rock, with her front half just barely missing the pillows (a mere two cm) and landing rather painfully on the ground (even the part with pillows), a pair of eyes in the overgrown bush winced. She lay there in a bit of a daze. She got up. Lucky sighed, and proceeded to go find more pillows. She did however pause for a few seconds to examine a bush that. . . had simply felt suspicious to her. A squirrel scampered out from underneath the bush, and hurriedly went on its way. Lucky gave a small sigh (of relief or disappointment, she didn't really know) and carried on to find more pillows.

A few bushes down, unseen or heard by Lucky, something scampered out as fast as it’s four legs could carry it, making for a location a fair distance away from lucky. It needed time to think. Time to plan.

A flower perked up. Lucky quietly hummed a little tune.

“I believe I can fly. . . I believe I can touch the sky. . .”

today was going to be a long day.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------------------

June 2

Wings in ready position? Check. Wind blowing in the most ideal way? Check. Nerves steeled, body in the ready position, home made crash cushion (a mountain of pillows) in position? Check, check, and check. Game face on? Eye’s narrowed, muzzle closed, teeth clamped, triumphant smirk ready and waiting? Check, check, check, and check. Game face is on.

Tunnel vision, all she can see is the edge and the sky. Nothing below her, nothing beside her, nothing behind her, just the edge, and the endless blue ocean above her head. She stomps the ground three times, she gives a quick snort from her muzzle, and then she breaks into a wild gallop, a free gallop. The edge is still so far away, and she gallops for what feels like hours. Her lungs start to burn, her heart is pounding in her chest, small droplets of sweat make there way down her face. Time slows down, the edge keeps getting closer, much closer. 15 meters, 10 meters, 5 meters, 2.5 meters, 1 meter!

0 meters and she jumps. Her wings spread, her legs kick out, and her body assumes a natural position for take off. Her wings catch the air, her body is caught in a lift, and her soul sours. She is flying. It is unlike any other kind of flight, flight born not from tools, not from the movement of the natural laws of reality (or the lack thereof of said laws), but born from her own power, her own capabilities. She is the one who is flying, and it is bliss.

She ducks and swerves, swoops and rolls, goes faster and slower, goes higher and lower, bursts through clouds in heroic dashes, spirals in her descents and ascents, and pulls of every trick in the book as naturally as a fish to water. She is the envy of stunt pilots everywhere. The sky is her ocean to play in, an ocean infinitely deep, with every corner available to her, anywhere she wishes to go, she can in the most graceful of ways. As the expression goes the world is her oyster, but unlike the expression she has already found her gem.

She picks up speed, faster and faster she goes! Reaching speeds no living being has ever made on their own, faster and faster, until she hears a loud crack, and a rush of air surrounds her, and she feels nothing but the intense pressure of unimaginable speed, and then all too soon she stops. She turns to admire her work, and gasps at the sight of millions of colours staining the sky, not like the controlled hand of a painter, but the cascading effect of a waterfall mixing and flowing, but never actually merging, as they fall towards the ground.

She simply hovers there admiring the sight, taking in its gorgeous beauty, as it is made all the better by the setting sun. It is the most beautiful thing in the world, a sight angels and devils alike would weep at. Nothing can match it, and she made it, she did! The most glorious sight in the world is within her power. She realizes her triumphant smirk had graced her face the moment she took flight, but by now it is no longer a smirk, it is the biggest smile she has ever had.

And that is when the passing calm with large eyes, spindly arms, and bat wings, holding a bushel of rutabaga tells her it’s time to wake up.

-

Lucky Raindrops woke up with a start, smacking her makeshift clock (a small plastic sundial she found in Lucas's parents house) off the table, and starting to flail around in a terrible impersonation of a fish out of water. A short fit later, she blearily rubbed the corner of her left eye with her right hoof, blinked a few times, and began the tiresome process of getting out of bed.

Lucas had been a horrible morning person, Lucky wasn't much better, but found mornings much more tolerable than Lucas. Still, grumbling to herself, Lucky made to do her (new, one day old) early morning routine. First food (a lovely little potted fern was her latest victim/meal), then brushing her teeth (tricky, but eventually doable), slipping on her pull over hoodie (getting kinda dirty by now), and then some light exercise.

Lucas had never been unhealthy, and his physique hadn't been bad, but his actual health did leave a lot to be desired. Thus Lucky Raindrops had decided that since no one was around to talk and hang out with, and since she wanted to fly so what better way to help than to get into good shape, she had taken to trying to figure out some form of exercise routine. For the most part she had stuck to moving as fast as she could (halfway between a canter and a gallop), and had tried to do various exercises like sit ups, push ups, jumping jacks, and other such things that she could actually remember. For the most part none of them really worked in a pony body, and she had stuck to early morning canters, and simply trying out as many exercises as could possibly fit in her early morning allotted time (usually whatever felt like 15 minutes).

roughly an hour later (or at least what felt like an hour), Lucky Raindrops began to trot towards the park passing many an overgrown garden (guess that's why plants take over all the cities in post apocalypses were humans simply disappeared), and happily taking a small bite of any old plant when the mood struck her. Yesterday’s flying practice hadn't actually gotten her any closer to flying (felt pretty much the same every time she threw herself of the slide top, flush triumph, replaced with dawning horror and terror, then panic, then pain), but Lucky had put her mind to it, and by gosh she was going to do it even if it killed her! After all, there really wasn't anything else to do but practice flying (thoughts of long term survival and shelter had yet to really cross her mind).

A pair of light azure eyes carefully watched lucky from a distance, feeling steadily more annoyed whenever Lucky took a bite out of a garden. That was something they were going to have to work on, as soon as they met this strange walking, talking, pony (were those wings?), But first they had to figure out what they were actually going to say.

That was always the hard part.

--*--

June 2 2015

Dear Diary

Today was great! Weather was wonderful (not too hot, not too cold, and a nice light breeze), animals were doing there own thing (they haven't bothered me yet, but ya never know. . .), and I even got a portable CD player working! Didn't get it from his parents house, got it from the new place I'm staying in, I can’t stand being in his parents house any more, and living in it is out of the question now, even if it wasn't trashed. . .

Sorry that wasn't in the spirit of today was it? Today was, is, a good day! Nothing horrible has happened, the day itself has nice weather, and everything I've done today has gone well. I didn't fly mind you, but today at least felt like progress, so you know what I’ll count it as a win. I’ll probably have to worry about food when winter comes around, but for now everything is nice and abundant, even the gardens are overflowing with food plants.

In a couple of days I'm going to head back to my apartment, and grab what I need and what I want. Probably gonna ditch most of my electronics though as electricity doesn't really seem to be working right any more. Nor does gas. Water seems fine for the moment, but if the electricity and gas is anything to go by then I probably shouldn't get my hopes up for it lasting. . .

Gah! What is wrong with me, stay on track, this is suppose to be a happy entry!

So yeah, today was great. It probably helped that I had the best flying dream ever! seriously it was so cool, and it felt so real, and oh my gosh it was just so awesome! It makes me really excited too, cause one day I'm going to be able to fly like that! I’ll I need to do is practice a little more.

Here’s to the future looking brighter (and to flying)

-Lucky Raindrops

that's what your suppose to do right? end a diary entry with your name and a farewell?

whoops! probably should stop writing then if that was the end of the entry!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------------------

June 3 -5

June 3 2015

Dear Diary

Another pretty good day today. Even managed to have a shower (it rained, and I had shampoo on hoof), I even got to say hello to a nice dog, he looked pretty ragged and wild, but he was pleasant regardless, all in all it was a good day. still not getting anywhere on flying but I'm gonna guess that you knew that already. . .

Errr, anyways, I’ll just remember to update on the whole flying thing when I actually do make some progress, so in the meantime here’s simply hoping that tomorrow goes better!

wow what a short entry.

-Lucky Raindrops

--*--

A small candle flickered quietly in the darkness, illuminating the wood paneled flooring, the limestone fireplace that had been left unused, an old fashioned checkered felt couch, the plain copper coloured carpet, and, to complete the older feeling of the house, a record player. All in all it looked like a snapshot out of an older time, or at least what lucky assumed was a snapshot out of an older time. If people had still decorated so. . . old fashionably, she would be very surprised.

All in all though it was a very nice house, and an unlocked one at that. They weren't loaded up on supplies or anything, but they had enough around for Lucky to be comfortable. Besides if she was running low on anything she could always just take it from a neighbouring house. The light of the flames of the candle flickered across her current page, bringing the words into focus in the oppressive night. She was currently reading a strangely fascinating, though rather morbid, book about a man who woke up one day as a cockroach.

Metamorphosis.

She couldn't help but grit her teeth at the family the poor man, Gregor, and their treatment towards him. His situation was unfortunate, and so was the families, but family simply didn't treat each other like that. Family didn't betray each other.

She felt her teeth clench even more, so tightly they might break.

Lucky put the book away, and instead picked up a book called ‘The Hitch Hiker's Guide to The Galaxy.’

She had no idea what the book was about, but just from the title alone it looked like a fascinating read. Turning to the first page she started to read out loud, a strange habit she had picked up from Lucas, and began to lose herself within the pages of the book.

“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.”

As she continued to read, lucky found herself consciously omitting human prefixes, and replacing them with pony ones.

--*--

June 4 2015

Dear Diary

Nothing new to report. Had a bit of trouble finding more matches, but I managed. . . I have a personal project in mind but I'm not entirely sure I should do it. . . maybe I’ll just sleep on it and decide in the morning!

conflicted but still happy

-Lucky Raindrops

--*--

A small pile that was mostly wood sat lamely in the middle of the yard. Harmless in its appearance and function, but infinitely malicious in its innocence. Not one of the objects in the pile were quite the same, but to lucky they all blended together into a maelstrom of hatred and despair.

“they’re nothing but photos. . .” she murmured, and proceeded to trot back into the house.

--*--

June 5 2015

Dear Diary

I'm writing this early in the morning, so I actually haven’t done anything yet. However I have decided it might help me write down what I plan to do tonight. Because you see tonight I plan to gather as many photos in the neighbourhood that have humans in them, and then I plan to burn them.

So far the day has started off pretty good, breakfast was simple, some stale cereal, water, and a couple of daisies. I’ll be starting with my morning exercise routine after writing this entry, and all in all I've been feeling especially chipper today. I'm expecting the feeling to carry on to the end of the day, so all in all today seems to be shaping up to being a pretty good day!

Feeling great

-Lucky Raindrops

--*--

Tearing down the past is a frighteningly easy thing to do. The past relays on memory, and memory is temporary. The past in that regard is much like a basic sand-castle, simple in appearance, an easy thing to visualize (the future), but it never quite works out how you want it to, due to hundreds, if not thousands, if not millions, of microscopic variables (the present). And like a basic sandcastle, a simple push or pull  of a wave, whether it be change, stagnation, chaos, order, fear, chance, bravery, or whatever else, comes along to wash it away. However the sand still remains, what was used to construct the past still persists, these events still happened. It is the recognizable landmarks, the sandcastles sticking up all over the horizon, that are so easily washed away, so easily destroyed. Not all sandcastles are simple to build, just as not all pasts are simple in their design, but in the end they still share this same weakness.

Perhaps this is something that all sapient species recognize instinctively, that the past is fragile and easily destroyed, and as such they go through great lengths to preserve the past, because it is a testament to their achievements, and without achievements, without the check-boxes that are already marked, there is nothing to justify saying ‘okay what's next on the list?’, nothing to justify looking towards the future. The question inadvertently arises however of whether this is a good thing or not. Is it better to maniacally looking towards the future, always asking questions, always double checking and second guessing, simply to smooth out the rough edges, to answer all the questions out of some perverse fear of the unknown, and the lingering bitterness of not having reached perfection, all in the name of bettering who we will be? Or is it better to stop, to stagnate, all in the name of enjoying what we are, to lay of future worries, to gorge on the ecstasy of the moment, even when better opportunities are desperately trying to garner our attention? This is something that will always plague sapient life at one point or another, and all for one very simple goal.

How, and when, can we be happy? Conflict will always arise from this goal, as no one being can best decide on the route they want to take. Some want this happiness now, some are willing to wait. The two major poles are driven by imagination, and practicality. What can we be in the future and how do we get there. What we are right now and what's are immediate need.

The past plays a very important in this conflict. Without the past we can be more secure in what we are right now, no mistakes to worry about repeating, no new people to remember, a constant blank page we can draw a new Mona Lisa on over and over again. With the past we have the power to better ourselves for tomorrow, lessons we can learn from, people we can learn from, a structurally sound wire frame, of which a thousand Mona Lisa's all wrapped into one can be drawn from. Both have their advantages and disadvantages, and both are at their most extreme, most sapient beings get by with mixing elements of the two, and never bother to think about the conflict again.

Lucky Raindrops is such a being and what she wanted was not happiness tomorrow, she wanted happiness right now. And the easiest way to get happiness is to destroy the past.

lighting the match was tricky. She eventually got it though, and a small flame flickered on the match head, dancing away in perfect innocence. Just like how the wood pile sat there with perfect innocence. Not doing anything, but equally destructive in power. Only one was destructive emotionally, the other was destructive much more literally.

Could she do this? Yes. Did she want to do this? Yes. Was anything stopping her? Yes. Was anything physical stopping her? No. Lucas hadn't been terribly inclined to making choices against his better judgement, or his gut feeling (he always felt there was a lot of weight in what your instincts told you, after all they were there for a reason). However there was one crucial difference between Lucas and Lucky.

“What have I got to lose?”

She tossed the match into the pile of photos. At first nothing happened, and the only sign that the match had landed in the pile at all, was a small orange glow. Then slowly, very slowly, the pile began to catch fire. Lucky watched the fire with entranced eyes, watching in that particularly human like way, with fascination as the fire danced around the pile in its unique, random dance, that only nature could produce. She was so entranced she didn't even notice a white coated, butter yellow maned, wingless, hornless, ordinary pony, come over with a fire extinguisher and aim at her burning wooden pile.

She did however, notice all the foam start covering her burning pile of framed photos, and in the brief span of time of watching her fire die, and registering what just happened, Lucky felt a sharp spike of anger start to course through her. She hadn't seen any signs of other ponies (or people) at all these last two weeks, and when she finally met another pony (or person), they try to dictate her life choices to her?

“What the hell are you doing!” and to Lucky's surprise both she and this mysterious newcomer (who was wearing a red sun dress, and was also a pony, yay!) yelled at the same time. The newcomer seemed just as surprised as lucky however, and jumped ever so slightly. a few seconds of tense silence passed, and then the white (as in snow white, wow that coat was kinda pretty. . .) newcomer shyly pawed at the ground, and hung her head ever so slightly (her gorgeous yellow mane hanging almost entirely on the left side of her face, even covering her left eye, and seemingly quite long in length for her new body). She chuckled nervously and, still looking down, offered a sheepish grin.

“Hehe. . . sorry. . .” she said in a very quiet, very nervous, almost singsong, voice. Lucky gulped, desperately fighting the need to blush (whether from nervousness or. . . something else entirely, she wasn't sure), and finding that words were failing her at the moment, offered a sheepish (though surprisingly more bold than the strangers) grin in response.

years later, looking back on the past, lucky would say that this was how she and her first friend ever met.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------------------

Interlude 1

2173 After Earth.

Brilliant streaks of red, orange, and yellow painted the sky in a symphony of warmth, a harmonious congregation of sunlight. The true brilliance of this symphony, was that it was a common occurrence, something you could see every day, yet every time it occurred, the notes were always different. Whether in their arrangement, their speed, their volume, or even the melody. That was the unique, simple, and generally ignored, beauty of the sun.

It was a glorious sunset at the moment, the kind a romantic couple would make up and kiss under, to the powerful swell of romantic music. Or, the kind where two close friends would reunite under, for the first time in years. Or it was the kind of sunset where one sat underneath an apple tree, and thought about a particularly troublesome subject of any sort, something which a small group of assorted creatures were currently doing.

They were an odd mix, even considering the normalcy of such creatures in the current day and age. A couple of miniature zebras lurked at the edges of the group, and nearby sitting beside an apple tree, where a  female minotaur of terrifying height, about 8 and a half feet tall, and plain colouring of a brown coat, and sitting across from her was a small orange scaled dragon, about 1 foot and 7 inches tall. The minotaur wore an animal skin coat, mostly bear hide, and very baggy sweatpants, that still couldn't cover her legs the entire way, well the dragon wore a surprisingly well tailored suit jacket and dress pants, with holes cut out rather neatly to accommodate his still growing wings and tail, and a well maintained fedora that, though old, was obviously well loved by the small dragon wearing it to be in such good condition.

“Do you have any eights?” spoke the minotaur, in a strong but surprisingly quiet voice, considering her size and appearance. She was nervously glancing back and forth, first at her cards, and then at the dragon sitting across from her, who simply gazed back in a nonchalant, almost, defiantly, bored manner. the dragon let out a heavy sigh.

“No, go fish.” He said in a very bored manner. The dragon's voice was scratchy and gruff, with a distinct, but not heavy, Irish accent singing along with every word he said. He took another long pull from his cigarette, as he waited for the minotaur to take another card from the deck, very, very, slowly. This had been going on for awhile now, various card games having been played, and the minotaur had lost every single one. And it had long since passed the point of being funny and kind of adorable, too just plain saddening. He took another pull from his cigarette.

“Look Louise, can we stop now? please?” the dragon exasperatedly asked the minotaur, who simply shot back a sharp glare at him.

“Not until I win at least one game!” Louise growled at the dragon, a normally very intimidating gesture for a minotaur, but in Louise's quiet voice it lost a lot of its edge.

“And don’t you dare throw the game just to get out of this, Cory! I'm winning one, fair and square!” She barked out. The dragon, Cory, took another pull of his cigarette, and let out a very heavy sigh. It was all starting to get rather tedious he mused, both the card games, and the decision making the rest of the group were arguing about. He was all about every voice getting heard sure, no really he would swear on the life of his dead mother, but at some point a decision had to be made, and damn whatever the consequences are.

“Got any threes?” He lazily asked.

“God fucking dammit!” Was her quiet, but very angry, reply. Cory shook his head, and held out his hand, claw, thing, as Louise begrudgingly handed over the three of spades.

“For the last time, no!” came a very exasperated shout from the huddled group of ponies, a few taking a small step back, the zebras, former fraternal twins that were even more identical now that they were both somehow the same gender, breaking away from their hushed conversation to once again pay attention, or at least pretend too.The rest of the group consisted of brightly coloured ponies of varying sizes, with several of them having very noticeable differences, such as a horn, or a pair of wings, either a feathery bird like pair or a leathery bat like pair, but never both at the same time. From the centre of the group came a light blue glow radiating from a chalk white stallion unicorn, with a light chalk blue mane. He was wearing a plain grey wind breaker that was left open, and plain dark blue jeans with hole cut out at the rear to allow his rather messy and knotted tail to poke out. He appeared to be the leader of the group, for the most part, with most if not all of the ponies in the group facing him. He stamped his hoof on the ground, and gave a small snort, his ever increasing anger evident in his cerulean eyes.

“But Reggie.” Stuttered an incredibly feminine light green earth pony stallion, with a dirty blond mane that had dark green stripes in it, and who was wearing a pair of plain light blue jeans, and dark framed square shaped glasses that were two sizes too small for his current, now silver coloured, eyes. “We've been walking for months now, and we haven't seen any other sign of civilization for miles, we should at the very minimum, go and try to converse with them.” Reginald, or rather Reggie, turned his increasingly angry glare towards the green stallion.

The stallion, Jeremy, nervously avoided eye contact with Reggie. He didn't like making Reggie mad, he had been his best friend for a long time, but over the last couple of months things had gone. . . less than swimmingly between them. It was understandable though, they were all under a bit of stress recently, Reggie especially. over the past two months they had all been scared half to death, nearly crushed, threatened to be eaten, and one of them had actually been eaten. They had almost burned to death, starved to death, and pushed to and beyond the brink of both emotional and physical exhaustion, and of course losing eight members of their initial group, one to wild animals, two to a rock slide, three to starvation, and two being kidnapped by weird flying bug abominations, presumably as slaves or food for ‘The Hive’.

“As the leader, I'm saying no, and that's final!” Reggie roared, causing Jeremy to stumble backwards and fall, and everyone in the group to stumble a bit as well. A light pink pegasus mare with black track shorts, and  a violet mane rushed over to help Jeremy up, followed by a clothless dark blue earth pony mare with snow white hair and orange highlights, who cast a stern passing glare at Reggie. She was a little surprised to find her glare returned with equal, no definitely more, ferocity from Reggie. The mare didn't back down, it wasn't her nature to, but it did frighten her a little just how angry Reggie was. Still it was but a passing glance, and the dark blue mare returned her attention towards Jeremy, who had just gotten back up with some assistance from the light pink pegasus.

“Look what's the problem here dude?” Spoke a lazy voiced brown earth pony colt, with a bit of a haughty tone. “That town’s got food, some shelter, hell there's other people down there too right? It’s got everything we need, and yet you’re saying no? What’s wrong with ya dude!” Continued the colt, growing irritation seeping into his voice. More voices raised in agreement with the colt, but before things could start to get out of hand a brilliant flash erupted, blinding everybody in the nearby vicinity for a few seconds, and then just as it came it left, leaving only slight confusion, silence, a slightly out of breath Reggie, and the smouldering remains of the apple tree Cory and Louise were playing cards under. Silence reigned for a few more moments, the tension thick enough to cut ice.

“Got any kings?” Cory nonchalantly asked. Louise used some very choice swear words, and once again, begrudgingly handed over one of her cards. The tension remained intact, but the silence mercifully came to an end as the  group of ponies began quite conversations, and hushed murmurings amongst themselves. Reggie finally caught his breath. He cleared his throat to get the groups attention and, taking a deep calming breath, addressed the crowd.

“Look, I understand all of your concerns, but you need to understand that I'm doing this for the good of all of us.” Most of the group exchanged uneasy looks, but before anyone could interject Reggie continued. “That town down there isn't normal, the things down there are not normal! It’s a dangerous place, and I feel it’s best if we just cut our losses and move on.” Angry shouts of protest immediately rang out, though they were quickly silenced by another burst of light blue energy emitting from Reggie. Everything was silent for another short pause. Finally the dark blue earth pony mare, Jillian, took a step forward.

“Look I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, Reg, but clearly everybody else wants to go there, it makes sense to go there, and if we don’t go there right fucking now I am gonna rip off someone’s legs, all four of them, burn them to a black crisp, just so I can eat them and not be starving!” She gave a boisterous stomp, snorted, and glared at Reggie defiantly. The rest of the group enthusiastically threw their support behind Jillian, with a nodding of heads, and even a stamping of hooves here and there. “I say we go down there, and if anyone doesn't wanna, or disagrees, cough, Reggie, cough cough.” Jillian moved closer to Reggie's face as she said this, giving him the most patronizing look she possibly could. Reggie looked a bit flustered at this action, but continued to hold his glare regardless. “They can stay up here on the hill, alone, and probably very damn cold when the night comes. The rest of us.” She said, pointing a hoof down to the town at the bottom of the hill. “Are going to that quaint little town down there, and getting some actually decent fucking rest!” And with a final angry huff, Jillian began her decent down to the town at a decent trot, and after only a momentary pause the rest of the group went after her, a few of them throwing triumphant looks at Reggie, and some of the others offering sheepish apologies and hurrying after the others.

“Finally.” Cory muttered, picking up the cards he and Louise were playing with, much to the chagrin of Louise who had yet to win a game, and hurried after the rest of the group. “Thought they’d never shut up,” he said pocketing the cards. The zebra twins looked at each other, amusement clearly written all across there faces, and together looked towards Reggie.

“The jig is up, the war is won.” Chimed the twin on the left, the right one immediately picking up after the first one. “And looking at the results, we’d say his followers are done.” Chimed the right one, not making any attempt to hide his snickering, though neither was the left one. “You're all alone right now white and blue.” continued the right one, the left one picking up immediately after the right one. “So why don’t we give you an important clue.” they then grinned at each other, and in a loud chorus said. “We’d hurry down this hill if we were you, because otherwise you’ll look like a big damn fool!” Then grinning madly, the raced down the hill to both catch up with the group, and to see who could make it first to the poplar tree halfway down the hill. Reggie felt his right eye twitch rather violently, and suddenly felt the almost unconquerable desire to scream, almost. sighing, and putting a hoof to his head Reggie looked down to the rest of the group, his group. . . and began the walk down to catch up to them.

“You're all making a mistake,” he muttered quietly to himself. He looked down towards the small town, a town made of mostly stone and a strange crystal, sitting in the shadows of some mountains, and wondered where did things go so wrong in his life.

--*--

Nestled quietly in the mountains, at the top of a stone tower of dizzying proportions, an impossibly old stallion woke from his slumber. A scrying orb had just started giving off an ear splitting racket, and so the stallion would have to check it to see what was up. And very much was up indeed he found out, for there, so very very close to the town, was a young unicorn of incredible potential, and he was exactly what the stallion needed. donning a travelling cloak, and a rather tattered hat, the old stallion headed out the door, locking it with a magical click, and proceeded the short journey.

Today was going to be very interesting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------------------

June 8

June 8 2015

Dear Diary

So, err, there's another date jump huh? Sorry about that Diary, I tried, I really did try to update frequently, and I'm sorry I keep screwing up, but things keep happening ya know. . . heh, I really am pathetic aren't I?

Anyway's, I haven't really been able to get any flying practice in recently, been busy with other things, important things. Not anything you need to know about diary! There very private things, well not really private but. . . gah!

Why am I even writing in you today, I'm not in the mood to write, there's too much going on right now I need to focus, but i can’t focus, and that’s the problem that I'm trying to focus on solving, so I can focus on the other more important stuff, but what if the reason I can’t focus is more important and. . .

[the rest of the page is covered in unintelligible scribbles.]

--*--

Lucas had never really understood the expression ‘butterflies in your stomach’, surely butterflies would be dead if they were in your stomach, cause for them to be there in the first place you would have to eat them, so wouldn't they just feel like regular food? Of course that was looking at it from a more literal standpoint, from the meaning of the expression itself though, Lucas had just never really felt all that nervous or anxious, or at least not so much that he would distinctly remember the feeling itself. He wasn't terribly confident, but he had never really come across anything he couldn't handle, or at least minimum effort his way out of. So no Lucas Tracy never really understood the expression ‘butterflies in your stomach’. It was however an expression and feeling Lucky Raindrops was getting more and more familiar with.

“I made us some salad Lucas. . .”  Stuttered the snow white mare. She held herself rather stiffly, slow jerky movements easily projecting her desire to simply bolt from the situation and return to ‘her section of the house’ as it were.

“Thank you Sunshine.” Lucky cautiously replied, drawing out each word just a half second longer then needed. She offered an easy grin trying to cover up her own failing nerves. She felt a cold chill creep through her body and considered closing a window. She scoffed at that, there was no reason to close the window, it was June for crying out loud. The snow white mare had an annoyed expression on her face when Lucky returned her attention to her, and gave a small exasperated huff. It was odd really, well over a month ago Lucas would probably have just seen the company (person or otherwise),  Lucas would have barely registered the huff as anything but a small sign of annoyance, but now? Lucky couldn't help but wonder why the mare across from her smelled like a beautiful flower garden in bloom, and yet have breath that smelled of industrial mouthwash with just a hint of strawberry.

“It’s Margaret dear, please do use my actual name.” the white mare said, her French accent becoming more pronounced without the stuttering, though her voice still remained almost naught but a whisper. She had a very whisper like quality to her in general Lucky mused, the way the white mare walked as if trying to move through life without leaving a trace, the way she held herself closely prepared to shy away from prying eyes, and the smooth, quiet, and light quality of her voice. The comparison was increased a lot whenever she said anything in French, the flowing, soft quality of the French language making it almost inevitable.

Still the whisper like quality did nothing to deter the simmering anger Lucky felt towards the white mare, bitter resignation just barely dulling the anger from a deafening roar. Just when she had found someone else to talk to, someone else to share this new life with, they come in and try to impose their will on her? She should have just told the white mare to fuck off, and to take her lofty principles with her, and yet she didn't. . .

“Thank you. . . Margaret, this is delicious.” Lucky softly replied, bitter sarcasm oozing from every word. The white mare seemed to brighten a little at this, her gentle smile brightening every feature on her face, glowing like sunlight. It lasted for only a fraction of a moment (or was it actually 5 minutes? time seemed to crash when Sunshine smiled), until it morphed into a sheepish reserved smile, which then morphed into a tight small frown. The white mare shuffled backwards a few steps, her body quivering bundle of nerves.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, and then scampered off back to her section of the house. Lucky sat there staring at the living room doorway (the living room and the kitchen being the only two places the really interacted with each other), before returning her attention to her salad. Staring at the salad trying to will it into flames, lucky reluctantly gave up on her small task, and heaved an overly dramatic sigh.

She just didn't get it.

/*/

Margaret shakily rested on the frame of her bedroom door, her chest (or did horses have a different name for it?) moving up and down Shakily. Was it rage, fear, embarrassment? She wasn't entirely sure.

oh, she must be such a terrible host!

But that wasn't really what was important here, there were bigger things, more monumental things to worry about here. Three days after having met another person to talk to (another person in the same situation as her!) and they hadn't made any headway on doing well. . . anything! Her daily routine had been almost entirely unaffected, save for making meals large enough for two people now. It shouldn't be like this though, her routine should have drastically changed when another person had appeared, they should be making progress, trying to find others, building better shelter, finding ways to make sustainable energy, all the important things to sustaining civilization. she felt something start to grip the hairs of her chest rather tightly, it couldn't be her hoof thing though as that had no fingers.

Rage, rage felt very prominent right now, a little bit of the burning fiery rage that leads to many bad decisions, and a lot of frustration at the other resident of her household (rather her current residence, there was no way this would be sustainable) and the rage felt so, so very satisfying and justified. Why did the only other person she meet have to be so difficult? Why did they have to have some disconnection with reality? Why did they have to be such a god damn brat!

She felt a rather sharp jolt of pain on her chest, and realized that whatever was causing the pain, was being fuelled by her (justified) rage. She took a calming breath, counted to five, listed all the things that made her happy, and ran through several other calming exercises (self made and more common ones alike.), eventually regaining some form of a calm mood. She sat there for a few minutes, quietly breathing.

She would bring up the question of finding a different location tomorrow, at dinner, after all this situation was not sustainable.

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June 9

June 9 2015

Dear Diary

Couldn't sleep last night, everything felt to hot. I hope I'm not getting sick, am I getting sick? I hope I’m not getting sick. Still time waits for no pony, so I've been out to try and make more progress on the whole flying thing (running starts seem to help with the lift off a little), and I can say that the small break in activity hasn't seemed to affect my progress in flying.

I suppose I should explain what caused that break shouldn't I. . . Gah, dammit!  It’s really not that complicated, this new pony I met like 4 days ago, Sunshine Daisy (though she insists on calling herself Margaret for some reason), basically grounded me to my room for a day, all because I told her I had been jumping off of places in order to fly, and then some more things happened, and I called her somethings that were not really nice, and she got mad and yelled some more, and I yelled back, the she called me some really not nice names, and then i think someone broke something, and then there was more yelling, and then-

well basically Sunshine Daisy is a massive bitch-

No, no that’s not the case, Sunshine's really nice, she's not really friendly, well I mean she is but. . . not really friendly in the conventional sense, ya that makes sense. Totally.

I really shouldn't so hung up on this, it’s not really productive, there are more important things to worry about, like getting a working shower system, a shower would be really nice right now, or maybe a cloud shower, like they're made of water right? If I just flew through one of those it’d pretty much be the only bath I'd need right there. . . god I want to start flying soon, real soon.

well ya know what they say about learning new things, practice makes perfect, so I'm heading out to practice now. Talk to ya later diary! Bye!

confused

unhappy

mad

feeling kinda down

-Lucky Raindrops

/*/

“I'm heading out for a while, see ya later Sunshine.” Lucas’s voice drifted from the front hallway, the distinct rough voice quality of her voice, making it rather easy to pick up. Margaret hopped down to the floor (her old recliner was so much larger now), and slowly made the short walk from the living room, to the front door. She didn't need to be in a hurry, after all neither of them had really figured out how to open doors in a efficient manner yet. Besides, she did kind of feel the desire to simply not do this. . .

No, she had told herself that today she ask about the two of them finding a better more stable, shelter and although now wasn't exactly the best of times, she could at least put the idea on the table for when Lucas got back. It was for both of their benefit in the end. There was also the worrying habits of Lucas that Margaret really needed to address at some point. . . no, that could wait a bit longer.

“It’s Margaret dear, and where are you headed?” Though there wasn't exactly much to do. well, social experiences at the very least, because Lucas would almost definitely not be doing anything productive survival wise. The past few days she had come to start to know Lucas, had given her clear indication that she didn't exactly have the best of priorities. Of course her own inaction on survival basics wasn't helping either, but at least she had some form of a plan in comparison.

“Just going out for a walk, clear my head, get some exercise. . .” she trailed of into a incoherent mumble.

“I do hope your not going to ‘practice’ again, it’s not good for your health dear.” Not that Lucas hadn't taken some form of precautions per say, but a stack of pillows was probably not going to actually be that helpful in preventing long term injury. There was also the worry that the poor girl would slip further into her delusion of flight, and move from jumping off the tops of slides, to jumping off the top of roofs.

Lucas didn't reply for a few moments, before shifting guiltily, and muttering a quiet no, and then hastening to open the door. Margaret gave a frustrated snort, and bite onto Lucas's tail (a disgusting but effective method) to stop her from leaving through the front door.

“Now Lucas dear, we talked about this.” she said, using the sternness voice she could possibly muster. “Your little flight practice is dangerous, you could seriously hurt yourself, and besides those wings of your’s are too small -”

“It’s Lucky.” Margaret gritted her teeth. Not this again.

“Lucas dear.” She said, interjecting as much positive emotion into her voice as she could possibly muster at the moment. “You said your name was Lucas, not Lucky.”

“I said my name was Lucas, but now my name is Lucky.” Lucas replied, anger evident in her voice. It made Margaret feel rather scared (she wasn't much for physical confrontation, if she got into a fight with Lucas. . .), but she pushed aside those thoughts for the moment. she wasn't going to let herself get walked over by some young delusional girl. She was the one in charge right now, as she was the adult, it was her responsibility to see that they were okay.

“Lucas dear.” she said in as sweet a voice as possible (she probably still sounded rather frustrated/mad regardless), “You told me that the name your parents gave you was Lucas, and right now I feel more comfortable calling you by your real name, so your name is Lucas.” she said, adding through a strained smile “ All right dear?”

Lucas simply stared back, and for an unbearable moment (if judging from her facial expression), felt that lucas was going to punch her.

“It’s Lucky, Lucky raindrops.” she snapped, her voice and eyes locked in a cold fury. In a angry stride, she walked out the door, not bothering to look back. Margaret was almost grateful for that, because if Lucas had looked back, she would have seen her as a trembling mess on the floor. Someday's, Margaret mused, she really didn't feel like an adult at all.

She shakily stood back up, and trotted back to the living room, to finish reading her book (and maybe have a little cry).

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May 27-28

[Entry is written in sloppy, almost incomprehensible writing. There are many spelling mistakes prevalent]

May 27 2015

If, you're wondering why this entry is so messy, it’s cause I don’t have my computer at time of writing this. Forced to improvise and try actually using the pen for it’s intended purpose. Writing with your mouth is hard, but I'm trying to use my wings to direct the pen a little bit. It’s sorta working, but using one's wings independently is very hard (as I have come to learn).

Gonna keep this entry short, so I’ll just sum up today. Got my supplies, but there are two problems, and that being that I can’t get the supplies to my room, cause ya know. . . stairs, and I am forced to carry significantly less supplies than I originally wanted. here’s a quick list:

-2 bottles of water, and one brita water filter.

-3 bags of packaged peanuts

-1 bag dried fruit (yucky, but very long lasting)

-2 boxes of crackers

-1 on the road puzzle book (I don’t know why I have this, there never any good)

-1 map of Calgary (something's messing with cell phones at the moment, cause I found one, but none of the features really worked. then it died cause I found it in the lost and found, and it had almost no power)

-7 packages of instant noodles

-1 box of ice cream sandwiches.

I'm probably pretty lucky that I even got this much, considering I don’t actually really know my way to the grocery store. That sounds pathetic but I never really did much of the grocery shopping, Sam did that, or I begged asked my parents if I could come over for dinner.

Sam’s my room mate if you're wondering, he’s a cool guy, probably won't take the news that I'm a gender flipped pony too badly. Pretty sure he’s a druggy though (not a hard core one, just a casual one, he usually insists if I call him out on this) so he’s probably seen weirder. I hope he’s okay.

Heading to mom and dad's place a little further north west now. They probably have a better idea of what's going on than I do, and they have a garden, which means fresh food! Hope they don’t mind that there son is now a mare. Bah I'm sure they won’t, It’s as they say parents love ya unconditionally.

-

Had to eat all the ice cream sandwiches on the road. They were starting to melt. My stomach now hurts. Why did I decide to bring them along?

--*--

Lucas decided that the dark was actually a very scary thing. Before, back then, in the time long passed (4-5 days passed), the dark was inviting, comforting, exciting. Back then, when it was dark, it meant mystery, places to be under the cloak and guise of the shadowy night. It meant an end to activity, a time to simply kick back, relax, and let the worries of the day go. It meant it was time to sleep, and to lose yourself in the lucid and imaginative dream scape.

Now all it seemed to say was danger. A coyote lurking in a back alleyway, a timid bunny rabbit, hiding in a small bush, now the eyes of a murderer waiting to strike. Night meant a loss of sight. no sight meant one was usually in trouble. A horrible cycle of second guesses, and thirds, and fourths. Day was little better. Day was suppose to be busy, to be active, to be noisy. Day was were all that energy one saves well sleeping gets put to use, and where all the tension that was building up over it’s course, was released by the calming blanket of night.

The world used to be so simple. Day was busy and eventful. Night was silent and relaxing. Now the night was a smothering blanket, and the day was the feeble gasps of a drowning man.

Of course Lucas couldn't really put this feeling into so many words. All She felt was that the day and night, were a lot different than they used to be.

she shifted a little, trying to find a better position under her makeshift blanket of leaves and branches. She still hadn't seen another person (or pony, who’s to say she was- is the only pony around), and aside from a few stray animals here and there, hadn't really seen much life at all. Lucas sighed, and pouted, and threw a slight huff, under the blanket. Where was everyone, and why wasn't she invited?

She found herself humming a song he had always rather liked. It was made by a band called fall out boy. It felt rather appropriate given the circumstances.

“Whoa, where did the party go. Were ending it on the phone. . . I'm not gonna go home alone. . .” She turned her gaze towards the moon. No stars in the sky made it rather easy to locate. A barren sky with a lone beacon shining in the darkness. Why did it feel so appropriate?

“Whoa. . . where did the. . . party go.”

--*--

May 28 2015

Dear Journal

Getting pretty close to my parents house now. Been eating mostly peanuts. Took some clothes from a nearby clothing store as well, I guess I robbed it technically, but there doesn't seem to be anyone around to argue that I robbed it, so point to team I borrowed them without permission. Nothing too fancy mind you, just a simple hoody, in case it gets chilly, and some socks to pull over my hooves, which is rather hard to do with only your teeth, especially your back hooves. The socks main purpose was mostly to keep my hooves somewhat protected from the elements, which hasn't been a problem so far, but was a bit worrying to think about. Thought about getting a zip up hoody, but went with an oversized pull on, cause it’s a lot quicker. No pants cause. . . er. . . well no one is around to see me wear no pants right? Besides, what if I need to go to the bathroom really quickly, taking off pants (especially with a tail to deal with as well) would take too long. Probably. Okay I will admit I'm carrying around a pair of pants, but that's only so I can wear them when I'm in front of my parents, for civilities sake. Not because i do in fact feel ever so slightly, really embarrassed without pants.

. . . I basically gave the game away didn't I. You didn't see anything journal! This stays strictly between you and me!

Anyway's, last night I slept outside. It is not something I plan on doing again. Still I did have a lot of time to think, alongside the not sleeping, and the desperately trying to fall asleep. I have come to the realization that in the event of an apocalypse, the first thing ya tell your folks is not “Oh by the way, your son is now not only girl, but he’s also a different species entirely, have fun!”, and then expect things to go swimmingly. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that until things settle down, I will use a fake name and personality when interacting with my parents. when I am around them, I will be known as Fleur Van Hoenheim, a recent immigrant from Germany, who is completely straight faced, and to the point, and they will never suspect a thing!

Other than that, found a gas station with the door unlocked! I plan on bunkering down in it for the night. I probably would have been back to my parents house today, but trotting is still slow going (I am getting better though!), and the neighbourhoods have wild animals running about, and I would rather not antagonize them.

Here's hoping I get lucky tonight, and not get eaten by coyotes.

Fleur Van Hoenheim (Lucas)

--*--

Distant howling echoed all around her. Lucas looked out of the window, and watched the night sky, more specifically the moon, partly as a calming exercise, partly out of surprise. The coyotes were never that vocal before. At Least she thinks they weren't. Do coyotes even howl? If they don’t then the howling was probably a (bad) sign that wolves were moving in.

Lucas shifted a little under her actual blanket (a fire blanket she stole/took from the back), and happily made to munch on the remains of a bag of dill flavoured chips she had, rather violently, forced open. She took a quick swig from a (surprisingly not that very, but still) warm bottle of iced tea, using only her mouth, and sat the bottle back down. She calmly flipped the page of her dollar store romance novel (the little rack of magazines and cheap books finally held a point), illuminated by the light of a cheap flash light, and read on. she made another quick glance at the makeshift barricade in front of the door, just to make sure it was still there. It was. She gave another happy little grin.

Lucas may have had his gender changed, she may have had her species changed, and she may or may not be in the middle of a species ending apocalypse at the moment. But sometimes she could be pretty lucky.

Not always, but sometimes was good enough for her. She turned the page.

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June 9?

It was a wonderful summer day outside. A clear blue sky, bright enough to be called sunny but not bright enough to be annoying, happy and cheerful animals enjoying the bright summer day. A wonderful, if textbook summer day indeed. Lucky didn't particularly like it.

Summer days were nice, but Lucky preferred wonderful textbook fall days. A cold breeze, light winds, beautiful colours decorating the trees, and of course the dull light of the sun. Still it was a lovely summer day outside, and there wasn't a better way to spend it then by angry cantering around a deserted western city, that was slowly, very slowly, being invaded by plant life.

“Stupid fucking. . . why the nerve. . . she shouldn't have ever. . .she doesn't need to. . .” she muttered at an almost supersonic pace, adding in various small curses under her breath. In an angry huff she kicked a pebble. Then she kicked it again. It was almost entrancing in the seemingly random bounces, and jumps the pebble had to make. She kicked it a third time. This time it hit another larger rock, jumped up into the air a little bit, spun and bounced towards the ground, and finally rolled to a stop 10 cm away. She kicked it a fourth time, with considerably more force. This time it bounced three paces, shot of a larger pebble, soared through the air for a few seconds, bounced of a pony's nose, rolled 3 cm, and stopped in front of a very crushed, very dirty looking can of mountain dew. She kicked it a fifth time.

She didn't end up watching the fifth bounce, instead she paused, and slowly craned her head towards the other pony, whose nose she had so rudely offended with her tiny pebble. probably. The pony himself was, in all regards, quite an unique individual. His fur was a dark midnight blue, his mane was a much darker acid green, and spiked and fell in every which way around his face., His eyes surprisingly were an almost pure unfiltered green, and over top his fur coat, was a regular coat, a seemingly resized black trench coat that hid his rump, and covered his entire upper body.

“Why hello there mam, nice day isn't it?” He asked in a chipper tone, his voice smooth and soft, almost like silk. He held himself in a very inviting manner, and had a pleasant but not exaggerated look on his face. A small part of Lucky was telling her to run, but the larger part of her mind told her that there was nothing wrong with the stallion at all (his voice was deep enough it had to be a stallion.), though the majority of her mind was focused on the fact that she had just met another pony, and stalling at that fact. How was it that she had met two ponies in such a short amount of time, and yet had gone for about a month before meeting anypony else.

Lucky’s brain stalled again. Anypony else where had that come from?

“Ah miss are you all right? You seem to blank out there, for a little bit.” Lucky snapped back at the sound of the stranger's voice. She felt herself stutter and her stomach tie in knots. He didn't seem angry or upset in anyway about the pebble, that or he was secretly hiding a bubbling pool of rage ready to burst forth at any minute, and cause him to go into a violent rage and-

“You’re a stallion!” Lucky squeaked, and then promptly ran to hid behind a fence post. The stallion seemed to be looking at the fence post rather confusedly. Probably confusedly, hopefully. If he had been confused, by the time Lucky looked back towards the mystery stallion he was once again a picture of pleasantness, a charming smile confidently tacked onto his face.

“And you’re a lovely mare, wandering around, so late into the day. So tell me what are you doing out here?” Lucky sheepishly peaked out from behind the fence post.

“Err, sorry about the reaction there mister. . .” She felt her cheeks flush, perhaps a bit too brightly, the stallion not, or being to polite, to indicate that he noticed the blush at all, a blush formed from embarrassment, defiantly. “It’s just that, I haven't met any stallion around town for like a month or something, and you're the first one I've seen, and, well, err. . .” She rubbed a hoof behind her head, her wings twitching nervously. “You surprised me is all. . .” She stuck a hoof out towards the mystery stallion.

“Im Lucky Raindrops.” she said brightly, feeling much more confident. The stallion didn’t seem to react much if at all to her name, and instead he kept smiling, and placed his hoof on her’s, making a shaking gesture as he did so.

“I’m Maior Luna, though you still haven’t answered my question?” He smoothly replied, retaining his pleasant ambient nature, with a pleasant tone. Lucky had to wonder a bit how he seemed to retain so much grace and poise in what must have been a very awkward situation, was a pleasant smile really all that it took. It was partly her fault though really, freaking out for no reason, and then squeaking and stammering like a lovesick fool, though he was admittedly pretty. A nice boyish face, almost petite, a wild hair style and colour, with some notable highlights of black when she bothered to get a better examination of his face, all falling around framing a gorgeous horn and eyes, and that warm inviting expression was very potent at making her feel more relaxed. . .

Wait horn?

“You're a unicorn!” She squeaked in a even higher pitch, and felt her body locking up a little, whatever relaxation she had previously started to feel ebbing away. The stallion, unicorn, stallion unicorn, the stallion unicorn named Maior, blinked.

“Excuse me?” He politely asked.

“Holy shit you’re a unicorn!” she practically shouted in his face, and then began to try to gallop away. Normally she would probably have gotten pretty far, having gotten pretty good at trotting over the weeks, however this time she felt herself held in place, and slowly being pulled back some tingly force, a slight dark green aura covering her body from head to hoof. Holy shit she was being pulled back by unicorn magic. Lucky felt her mind start to sputter and stall.

“Do calm down miss, we don’t want you to end up hurting yourself now do we?” Maior turned her around, by using unicorn magic, and gave her a calm, reassuring smile. Lucky stared back. “Now then, I was wondering if it would be at all possible to answer my question mam?” Lucky blinked a few times, before remembering the question the stallion, Maior, had asked her.

“Ah, right sorry. Umm I was out here just for a nice trot, clear my head, get some space and all.” She smiled reassuringly. “Actually this is quite a nice coincidence isn't it, running into another pony out here.” which it certainly was, and a unicorn at that. The fact that he could use his horn to do magic helped confirm that her wings probably had a purpose as well. After all they were part of the same species, and if the unicorn could do magic, then the pegasus could probably fly. Probably.

“A well It certainly is a lovely coincidence I’d say, I hadn't even come across anybody else for weeks now, though from what you seem to be implying you probably have a shelter of some sort don’t you?” He asked politely, though the observation part question did almost caused her to have another small internal freak out.

“How did you know I was living somewhere?” She decided to ask instead. Maior smiled calmly.

“From what you said earlier about getting out and clearing your head, i could possibly garner the assumption that you had just come from somewhere, most likely a long term shelter of some sort from how you implied that you were only out temporarily, plus.” His smile grew a bit wider. “It helps that you just confirmed what I asked yourself, straight from the horse's mouth as it were.” Lucky gave a sheepish laugh, was she really that careless? “How about I walk back with you? I've been looking for a residence of some sort to share, though I think most people would in such a scenario.” Lucky smiled.

“That certainly sounds like a plan Maior, come one, it’s just err. . . this way!” Lucky said enthusiastically, pointing vaguely in the direction she felt was correct. Maior chuckled a little, before beginning to head in that direction.

“Well then mam, I suppose we best be off then if we. . .” Maior stopped, staring upwards to the sky to the direction lucky had pointed towards, worry evident on his face. Lucky wondered why before also looking towards that direction.

There was smoke.

Lucky galloped as hard as she could.

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