Prologue: Manehatten Iced Tea
A few of the passengers on the Manehatten to Ponyville express were rummaging through their bags and cases on the overhead. It was very late into night, and the firefly lanterns lit faces throughout the coaches a pale yellow, except one hidden behind a ratty black hat, and another treading the length of the train.
Witch Hour was an old mare. Her coat was a stark black when she was youthful, but in her later years of working night shifts on her assigned expressway, it turned a dingy dark gray. Her mane remained silver through her life, but unsurprisingly it also lost it's shine. Most nights it was tucked into a mousy bun to match her frail look. Her task at that every shift was simple: walk through the train and announce their arrival to Ponyville and wake any asleep. The later was a rare part of the job, considering that many traveling from Manehatten to anywhere were usually night-owls by nature or in company with someone to keep them up a while. Once in her earlier times, Witch was amused to find practically a whole family reunion crammed inside a small compartment all out cold. She was laughing when one woken colt, undoubtedly a trickster, asked Ms. Hour to take a picture of the scene, but she politely agreed nonetheless. The flash brought some smiles to the gathering, but not before some amusing disgruntled or surprised
"'Scuse me, deary. We'll be arriving at Ponyville station in just a while." she chimes to a young filly in a passenger car. She had stopped at a car with the lights dimmed, likely for the occupants to take a nap. She must have ruined their chance, however, because the young one nodded slowly, obviously tired. Witch looks up to see her parents smiling at her. "We'll be in Ponyville soon,-" she looks down to the filly "-and then you can get this one off to bed." The parents chuckle as fatigued parents do, but still thank Ms. Trotter for her duty. The parents start to reach for their items in the overhead as Witch strolls walks down the isle to the next car. Looking down at a watch inside her uniform coat pocket, she notices that she has a little less than ten minutes to reach the last car. Thankfully, it was where she was heading. She hoped that there wasn't a whole family's worth inside, or they might be more rushed than their liking. She shook her head and uttered a small preemptive apology.
She softly opened the wooden panel to the final car. The express had no sleeper cars, a fact that few riders find out and the same amount find obnoxious. Witch sympathized as she saw what laid before her, or at least, who.
It appeared to be a mare from the smaller build, but the way the pony was set on the seat with its back on the bench, legs out forwards, it was hard to tell. Her body was covered in a full suit, black trousers, dark grey jacket, and white shirt. Her back hooves poked out from her slacks, telling others that her coat was a vibrant red. Her head was shaded and her face was covered, both by the same black hat. It looked crumpled and frayed like the edges of her jacket sleeves. Beneath her attire, her chest rose slowly. She was asleep.
Witch felt sorry for whatever story this passenger had that weathered her so. Stifling a coo of concern, she softly cleared her throat to reset her thoughts.
"Pardon me, miss?" She gently approached the rider, carrying out in a form honed from practice and preference. The moment she did, however, the passenger stirred.
Witch heard a sharp intake of air as the - now confirmed - mare shot up half way between a sit and a lay. She had a part-lidded look of her eyes, and Witch could now see that behind the ratty hat, the mare was a rich red with a wine mane tucked into an old black ribbon. The passenger couldn't have been much younger than her thirties, and so not much more so than Witch. At a second glance, however...
"Miss? Are you alright?" Witch asked from the best of her heart. The mare before her deserved as much, for her face was sunken and dark, a feature hidden by the shade of her headwear. She looked as if she had fasted for weeks on top of weeks, but she just rubbed her dark eye with a crimson hoof.
The voice that followed was rich and full, albeit groggy: "Yeah, yeah... Sorry, I'm just a little-" the mare was cut off by her own yawn "-I haven't been getting the best rest these past few days or so." She removed her hat, showing a neat but dull top of the hair tied behind the mare's jacket. "Sorry for being so rude. We don't sleep in front of others where I'm from..." She finished with a sorry smile, hoof still twisting the brim of her hat.
"Rude?" Witch said, "Nonsense. I'm afraid I'm the rude one for ruining your rest, and I'd be worse if I didn't offer something to drink." She finished with a smile and a nod, trying hard to assert herself as politely as possible. "You'll have to finish it a little quicker if it's something strong, though. We'll be in Ponyville in at most twenty minutes."
The red mare only nodded with a tired smirk. "Well I hate being anything but help, especially trouble, so I'll help move this along and agree to the drink, but only if I can help get it myself."
Witch was slightly taken back by this mare's way. Wit and reason was obvious on her words, but something about her eyes made her look genuine. She didn't have suave; she had stride. She spoke in grace, so Witch couldn't possibly turn her down.
"Of course. Right over here."
Witch stepped out of the car to let her new company have space to roll from her seat, and was surprised yet again by what she saw once she turned. A small footnote of a realization popped that the mare behind her had a decent reason for her slacks.
She stood upright. Not the conventional way of a pony, with her back arched and legs
behind her, but rather more like a dragon. Her body was aligned and straight, along with her front hooves, now her top ones, put more to the side than in front. Her bottom hooves were straight under their cloth coverings, and Witch could imagine how without them that the mare would be quite publicly displaying...
Witch coughed, trying to pass it off as a small tickle in the back of her throat. Her tail arched forward subconsciously towards her back legs. She didn't notice the slight growth of her passenger's grin.
"There's a small section of the food car that's still serving hot drinks." She motioned behind her. "It's three cars down, but with the bustle, it'll feel like six. I could help you through if you'd like," Witch turned back with a somewhat knowing look, frazzle now gone. She added, "...though it's not too late in the morning, and the bar car is only two down the other way. Should be empty, and complementary."
The passenger raised a brow, but besides the one, her face didn't falter. A moment later, she slightly brightened. "If you'd lend the company, I'll mix something light so you're not caught being too nice to a client."
Witch didn't even need to consider anything. It was the last of her shift, and Ponyville station was literally minutes away. She had no other duties, so as long as one drink didn't turn to one more more than once, she'd be fine. It helped that she wasn't quite the lightweight that her disposition lead on.
"Well then, I guess I can only hope that the wine's a good year, or that at least you can find something light."