“Relax, Tempest. We're just going to the market,” says Twilight.

“I am relaxed,” says Tempest stiffly.

“Then why are you wearing your armor?”

Tempest inspects herself. Her obsidian armor shines in the light from the polish despite the collection of dents and scratches, but at least not a grain of dirt can be found on the plates or her jumpsuit. With her armor and underclothes as clean as they can be, she looks back at Twilight, brows bent slightly.

“What's wrong with my armor?” asks Tempest.

“Well, it's just...” Twilight rolls her hoof like a crank generating brain power. “We need to give you a good impression and going into the market wearing battle armor gives the wrong idea.”

“The armor stays.”

“Oh, come on, Tempest, nothing's going to happen. You're in Ponyville! The nicest town in Equestria! And I will be right next to you the whole time so nothing will happen to you.”

Tempest stares at Twilight, her eyes heavy and lips hooked to a frown, and Twilight looks back at her with that large smile and sparkles in her eyes. Tempest really wants to reject her suggestion.

She really, really wants to.

But despite the heaviness suffocating her, she nods and reluctantly trudges back to her room to remove her armor.

Tempest can still feel the tomato on her cheek, even though she washed it off hours ago, and she can still hear the voices chanting for her to be turned to stone.

“Why didn't you let her shatter with the Storm King!?”

Tempest did not wait to hear what Twilight had to say after that question was shouted. She fled the market in a hurry and used the backroads to sneak her way back into Twilight's Castle, where she spent the rest of the day in her room. In her armor. Not crying.

Nope. No crying from her.

Just the darkness and her ignoring the knocks and Twilight's begs to let her in. Solitude felt good for those hours. No good deeds ignored. No bad deeds remembered. Just her, her armor, and no chance of further pain for the night.

Well, that is until she got restless and annoyed from hearing Twilight and Flash snoring in the neighboring room after the lovebirds went to sleep. Now, here she is, in a brightly lit diner looking at a waffle, waiting for Pinkie Pie to get out of the bathroom, and unable to keep her thoughts straight for five minutes.

As Tempest stares at her waffle she realizes that the scoop of butter looks like ice cream. Vanilla ice cream to be exact. She actually wonders what vanilla ice cream tastes like. She thinks she had it before as a filly before being mauled by the Ursa, but she can't be sure.

Just like she can't be sure if the occupants at the Waffle Palace will lunge at her.

Tempest scans the area, wanting to rub the cheek that was struck by the tomato. She can still feel the tomato juice and seeds slithering down her cheek, like a slimy snake reminding her how unforgiven she is.

Tempest looks left.

The cooks working the dirty grill quietly make their orders, but occasionally look at her from over their shoulders. One of the chefs, a unicorn, shows off his magic by working multiple positions with ghostly clouds flipping waffles and guiding spatulas. Tempest cannot shake the feeling that he is doing his fancy magic just to spite her, but rather than making a scene she looks straight ahead at a group of burly stallions and mares. They are all dirty and wearing heavy plaid shirts plus safety pads with goggles resting on top of their heads, and they are all sitting together at the far table, each with a coffee and a the remnants of hearty meal.

All of them are staring at her. Not at once, though.

Like gears in a cog they talk and talk, and one by one their eyes turn to her then back to themselves and they talk some more.

Talk and talk.

Eyes to her. Eyes away from her.

Talk and talk.

Eyes to her. Eyes away from her.

Talk and talk.

Tempest plants her hoofs on her table. Her waffle is getting cold.

Why do they keep looking at her?

Eyes to her. Eyes away from her.

Tempest's heart gets heavier. Her throat is clogging. Her muscles are tightening.

Why are they looking at her?

The group gets up. Metal chairs scrape against the tile, one by one, like blades rubbing on whetstone. The group starts walking towards Tempest and with narrowed eyes she sets her jaw and prepares for the inevitable. But there is not enough room for her to move without wrecking the place. She needs space.

The plate vibrates.

'Don't shake,' she orders herself. She has faced worse enemies than a bunch of lumberjacks and she is wearing armor, so why is she shaking?

She needs to stop shaking. Her armor will keep her safe. It has always kept her safe. Even when she thought she would perish in the Storm King's storm it kept her safe. Without the grip of her boots she surely would have slipped and been tossed to her death before Twilight could reach her.

The group is much closer now.

Tempest grinds her teeth to stop herself from shaking and she narrows her eyes at them, waiting for the fight.

But the fight never comes.

The group suddenly turns to the counter and with bright smiles they each give a young mare some bits and wish her a good night.

“Tips are on the table!” says the lead stallion.

“Thank you! Have a good night!” says the mare.

The group leaves without giving Tempest another look, and the damaged unicorn sighs with relief and slumps in her seat. She then looks over her shoulder at the door to the bathrooms, and then back at her waffle. The white scoop of butter has changed to an odd yellow color and has bled into the squares and crevices. It is disappointing to see the butter melt away. She is not sure why, but it just is, and as she stares at the soggy core of the waffle a new thought comes to her.

“Where the heck is Pinkie?”

After several minutes of using her hoof and hot running water to clean herself, Pinkie Pie lifts her head up from a hoof washing pool, shuddering and biting her lip. Her head is drenched, and thick streams of steaming water fall off of her mane and face. Her mane hangs down like clumps of old rope and she shakes her head, flinging brown spots all over the bathroom while the water drains, taking with it the brown haze and clumps of dead grass.

She looks at herself in a nearby mirror. Her eyes are still red and puffy, but not as severe as earlier, and her wet mane is hanging around her face in such a way that it would give Rarity nightmares. This tempts Pinkie into taking a picture of herself and slipping the photo underneath the generous mare's door. But, alas, she has no camera, so she bites down on her hoof and blows into it like a balloon, thus expelling all the remaining water from her mane and puffing it up like the cotton candy style she likes. Though, looking at mess she made with with speckles of water, dirt and grassy flakes splattered all over the wall she realizes she made a horrible error...

And proceeds to leave slowly.

Backwards.

Tempest Shadow stares at her cold waffle.

She wants to eat it... but Pinkie Pie isn't around and she hasn't ordered anything yet, and Tempest distinctly remembers Twilight telling her that it is rude to eat before your friend gets their food.

Tempest has to remind herself that Pinkie Pie is not her friend, none of Twilight's friends are her friends, actually, but she figures that the same rule applies.

Sighing, Tempest looks up and sees Pinkie Pie reading the menu, clean and mane puffed out like it normally is. The sudden appearance and how quietly she slipped in startles her, and without looking up from her menu, Pinkie Pie says: “If your eyes open any wider they're gonna fall out.”

“How did you do that?” asks Tempest.

“Do what?” asks Pinkie Pie innocently.

“Slip in without me seeing or hearing you.”

“I'm a quiet mare.”

Tempest furrows her brows. “No you are not.”

Pinkie Pie nods past Tempest's shoulder. “Then what's that?”

Confused, Tempest looks. “What?” Then she realizes what happened, and with a huff she looks back at Pinkie Pie. “Oh, ha... Ha?”

Pinkie Pie's chair is empty and Tempest's eyes flick around the general area, and even looks underneath the table, but there is no sign of the Element anywhere. When Tempest straightens herself in her seat, she gets an uncomfortable feeling along her spine and slowly looks to her side to see Pinkie Pie sitting next to her, still reading the menu.

“Silly me. I guess I was just being not quiet,” says Pinkie Pie.

“GAH! WHAT THE BUCK!?” screams Tempest.

“Language, Tempest. There could be children reading.”

Pinkie Pie looks straight ahead and with a smile she winks as though a camera is in front of them. Seeing this,Tempest looks between Pinkie Pie and their reflection on the glass door, becoming just a bit more disturbed by the peculiar pony.

“Uh, should I know something about you?” asks Tempest.

“I can see into different parallel universes every now and then. Twilight already knows, but she just doesn't like to admit it because she is in denial,” replies Pinkie Pie. “By the way, you should really try the hashbrown bowl. That is bardzo dobrze.”

Tempest quietly tells herself to pretend to believe Pinkie Pie's parallel universe claim and to just roll with it. Besides, she has dealt with insane subjects before, and Pinkie seems harmless compared to them. Weird, but harmless.

“Oh, that's right, you already ordered the waffle that you have yet to eat,” adds Pinkie Pie.

“I was waiting for you,” says Tempest sharply. “But you were being a typical mare and taking forever to use the bathroom.”

“I was covered in mud! Besides, you could have waited to order.”

“You said you would be a minute. That is sixty seconds, not eight hundred and twelve.”

“... You counted?”

“Of course I counted! Time is everything, and any longer and I would have gone in there myself to see if you were alright.”

Pinkie Pie's confused look flickers away to a smile and with a light sigh she places her hoof on Tempest's shoulder, looking right into her opal eyes.

“That is the nicest thing anypony has said to me in the past few days,” says Pinkie Pie.

Tempest leans back, stiff as a board. “You're welcome?”

Pinkie Pie slides her hoof off of Tempest's shoulder and looks back at her menu.

“Speaking of nice things, I think I will go with the choco-PB waffle instead of the hashbrown bowl. The choco-PB waffle is the best waffle,” says Pinkie Pie, and then she pushes the cold waffle away, adding: “And you are getting another waffle.”

Tempest pulls the plate back. “That won't be necessary.”

Pinkie pushes the plate away. “But your waffle is cold.”

Tempest pulls the plate back. “It is still going to be a waffle.”

The plate is pushed back. “But it won't be a hot waffle.”

The plate is pulled back. “But it will still be a waffle.”

Pinkie Pie tries to push the plate away, but Tempest slams her hoof down on Pinkie's, locking it in place and snorting hot air.

“The waffle stays,” snarls Tempest.

Pinkie Pie slips her hoof out -somehow- and slides back, hoof held up defensively and shaking her head.

“Okay. Okay. Have it your way,” says Pinkie Pie.

“I will,” says Tempest, and for good measure she bites down on the cool delicacy, tilts her head back and in a series of quick bites the waffle disappears into her mouth, puffing out her cheeks like a chipmunk. Then bit by bit it is swallowed into oblivion. When the waffle is completely gone, she exhales and looks at Pinkie Pie, smirking. “There... What?”

Pinkie Pie stares at Tempest, eyes squinted and lips twisted to a sneer.

“What did I just see?” asks Pinkie Pie.

In a bush across the street, Twilight's jaw hangs loose, her eyes wide behind her binoculars, which she had switched to so she did not burn her eyes out with the night vision goggles again. She slowly lowers her binoculars and watches Pinkie Pie and Tempest in the Waffle Palace, but without the brain capacity to formulate anything useful.

“What did I just see?” asks Twilight.

Owlowiscious hoots.

“Hic!” Tempest jerks in her seat, her eyes wide and her throat and chest hurting. Pinkie Pie and a waitress stare at her, and with her cheeks lighting up like dim red bulbs, she mutters: “Soh- Hic!- Ry.”

“Choco-PB waffle with lots of butter, a cup of OJ and two large glasses of water, please,” says Pinkie Pie.

The waitress scribbles on her pad using her magic to guide her pen.

“Hic!”

“Would you like some peanut butter or sugar, ma'am?” asks the waitress to Tempest, holding back a smile.

“No, I -Hic- would not!” says Tempest harshly. “Hic!”

The waitress shrugs and leaves and Tempest glares at her, loathing her and her stupid horn. So perfect, so pointy, so full, so multi-functional.

“Hic! Why!?” says Tempest, her voice gravely and her throat feeling like it has been lit on fire. Even her abdomen is hurting from the sharp convulsions.

“You did inhale a waffle,” says Pinkie Pie.

“Because you were trying to steal it! Hic!” says Tempest.

“I wasn't trying to steal your waffle. I was trying to get you a better one.”

“Liar. Hic!”

Pinkie Pie frowns. “You know, I can see why you and Twilight click. You're both crazy.”

“Says you.”

“Mhm.” Pinkie Pie raises her hoof. “Ms. Waitress person! Can we get a lot of peanut butter, please!”

“Sure thing!” says the waitress.

“What are -Hic!- you doing?” asks Tempest.

“Watch and learn, young grasshopper.”

“Young grasshopper? I'm older than Flutter... Never mind.”

Several minutes of painful hiccups later, the waitress returns levitating a tray of drinks, syrup, a waffle with peanut butter and chocolate chips, and a soup bowl filled with peanut butter. The waitress levitates the syrup, waffle, orange juice and one of the glasses of water to Pinkie Pie, and then slides the bowl of peanut butter and water to Tempest.

“Get well, soon,” says the waitress.

Tempest gives the unicorn a condemning looking -unfortunately made less effective by her hiccup- before scrunching her brows at the bowl in front of her.

“Eat the peanut butter. It will make the hiccups go away,” says Pinkie Pie, casually chewing on her waffle after drowning it in syrup.

“Do you also want me to stand on my head and drink the water upside down?” asks Tempest. “Hic!”

“Can you stand on your head?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I think if you can do somersaults and kick a ball of death thirty feet in the air with insane accuracy and take out three alicorns at once then head-standing should be easy for you.”

“Only I can't. Unicorns can't stand on their heads because we have this thing called a horn and -Hic!- in case you didn't notice a horn is -Hic!- intrusive for head stands.”

“But you don't have a horn.”

Tempest stares at Pinkie Pie, eye and lip twitching, and said pink pony is in the middle of chewing her food when she freezes and her eyes slowly expand like heated marshmallows.

“Oh,” says Pinkie Pie.

In the bush, Twilight can only see Tempest storming out of the diner, horn sparking and steps heavy. Pinkie Pie pulls out a bag of bits from her mane and hastily dumps it all on the table before bolting out the door as a pink blur, leaving the bag behind. She shouts after Tempest, but the former commander keeps walking, her scowl and wet eyes plain in the dark.

“Oh no,” says Twilight.

She expands her wings, ready to take flight, but Owlowiscious bites down on one of her remiges and tugs her wing down, causing her to look at him with worry.

“But I have to go to them,” says Twilight. “I have to figure out what happened.”

Owlowiscious shakes his head.

“But-”

Owlowiscious slaps her face with his wing and proceeds to tap her notebook with his talons when she regains brain function. And so, with a reluctant sigh, Twilight looks down the road to see Pinkie Pie has caught up with Tempest, and with both of their backs to her she uses the bare minimum magic to put her pad and pen in her shirt pocket and crawls out of the bush for another round of silent pursuit.

Tempest can hear Pinkie Pie running after her, but she does not hold any desire to look at her. She is actually proud of herself for not zapping that obnoxious pony. Maybe it is because Pinkie is Twilight's friend and she would not take too kindly to her being electrocuted. Maybe it is because she did not want to make a scene as part of her useless friendship training. Whatever the reason is, Pinkie is lucky and Tempest is finding it increasingly more difficult not to wreck something.

Sure, Twilight forgave her, but she can feel the animosity among Twilight's circle. Except for Fluttershy. She only smells fear from that pathetic mare.

She took Twilight's advice in good faith that ponies are forgiving, but ever since everyone settled down from the euphoria of liberation, she has found nothing but hostility. The guards of Canterlot always watched her, waiting for a reason to take her down. Shops would not do business with her unless Twilight was right there, and when Tempest arrived in Ponyville with Twilight by her side there was no mass welcoming committee -unless she counts Pinkie's party cannon as a welcome- and Flash has not been the “sweetheart” that she claimed him to be. Unless Twilight's idea of a sweetheart is a stallion who likes to sharpen his spear in front of their guests and talk about how he was part of the elite Expeditionary Force and hunted dragons before being transferred to Inner Equestria.

Then there is the town itself. Ponyville -the nicest town in Equestria- has shown harsher attitudes with a coldness and anxiety that could drain the sun of all its warmth; and the incident at the market had been the glaring, unignorable sign that Tempest does not belong anywhere in Equestria.

They will not have to worry about her, though. Soon, things will be back to normal for everyone.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait! Just stop for a second! Stopstopstop!” cries Pinkie Pie, breaking Tempest's wall of thoughts.

Pinkie Pie slides in front of Tempest and presses her hoof against her armored vest, digging her hind hoofs in dirt and looking up into Tempest's eyes. Or trying to, but Tempest turns her head away every time their eyes meet.

“Can you please look at me?” says Pinkie Pie.

Tempest answers by looking at the dirt road, and Pinkie Pie slumps down, whimpering and pawing at the dirt.

“I'm sorry, Tempest. Sometimes I say things without thinking,” says Pinkie Pie.

“Were you trying to be funny?” says Tempest, now glaring at Pinkie Pie.

“No! It was just a... a... I don't know! An observation!”

“An observation that everypony can see!” snaps Tempest, her horn stub ejecting curving bright blue sparks, causing Pinkie Pie to recoil. “It is so obvious that I do not have a horn and that I have a scar on my face! I don't need to be reminded of it because I see it and feel it everyday, and even when nopony points out my blatantly obvious disfigurement I can feel them looking at me and purposefully using fancy magic to show off how great their horn is. This town sucks! Equestria sucks! I was better off in the Badlands and beyond. At least there I was not seen as a freak. There they saw me for who I was, not who they wanted me to be. Have a good night. I'll be leaving on the first train out.”

Tempest butts her way past Pinkie Pie, almost knocking her to the ground, and stomps away without looking back, horn sparking and blinking to relieve her eyes of the hot tears.

“I saw you, Fizzlepop,” sniffles Pinkie Pie.

Tempest stops, and with an aggravated groan she looks over her shoulder to see Pinkie Pie still sitting, but her mane is flat and somehow her colors look darker.

“Don't call me that,” says Tempest. “Fizzelpop Berrytwist is just a hollow name. Tempest Shadow is who I became and will always be.”

Pinkie Pie sniffles and wipes her wipes as she turns to Tempest, her eyes back to being red and puffy, and her face covered in wet, gleaming streaks.

“If you want to be stuck as Tempest Shadow and not change for the better then you go right ahead,” says Pinkie Pie. “But Twilight saw a special pony, and so did I when you launched those fireworks and blew up those pinatas and danced with the others. I saw you smile... I saw the real you when you let your guard down that night and it was beautiful. It would suck for a beautiful pony like you to disappear forever.”

Tempest lowers her head and speaks quietly. “That night was special, but it was only one night and who you saw was a filly defined by a series of mistakes. Just one mistake after another. That is the real me. I am not the sweet mare trapped in some shell of regret and anger like you think I am. I am just a mare who knows it is too late to start over. My lack of horn, my scar, my armor, that is me, and they serve as reminders that I do not belong in Equestria. I belong out there, away from normal ponies.”

Tempest then exhales slowly and proceeds to walk away from Pinkie Pie again.

“I will let Twilight know that I will be leaving on the first train out,” says Tempest. “Maybe I'll become a pirate. Or a bounty hunter. Those were always cool.”

“What about the others?” asks Pinkie Pie, galloping next to Tempest's side and continuing after she slows to match her pace. “What about Rarity? What about Applejack and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash? What about Twilight's friendship and her friendship lessons? What about me!?”

“We aren't friends.”

“But you pulled me out of the mud.”

“Because you were being dumb and sleeping in it. I didn't want you to get sick.”

“So that must mean you like me at least a little bit, right?”

Tempest rolls her eyes, not really sure why Pinkie is groveling like a filly with separation issues.

“No, it means I was trying to be nice,” says Tempest. “But you repaid me by being weird and pointing out how I don't have a horn.”

Pinkie Pie slips in front of Tempest and places her hoofs on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“Then can I take back my words? Can we start over?” begs Pinkie Pie. “Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Is this an apology?” says Tempest.

Pinkie Pie nods. “I'll make you an apology cake, too, if it will make you feel better.”

“That won't be necessary.”

Tempest slips around Pinkie Pie and walks in silence, listening to the wind rustling the leafs, the bugs buzzing and Pinkie's hoofs clip-clopping as she trots next to her.

“...So, does that mean you won't be taking the train?” asks Pinkie Pie hopefully.

“No, I'm still going on the train, and you and Twilight are still going to have your chat to straighten out your issues. Nothing will change my mind about those things,” says Tempest.

“Oh... Do you need help finding the train station?”

“No.”

“Do you need help finding its schedule board?”

“No.”

“Do you need help-?”

“Pinkie!”

“Sorry.”

Tempest huffs and resumes her attempt to walk in silence and enjoy the pleasant weather. To Pinkie's credit she manages to be quiet for a pleasant thirty seconds before she opens her mouth again.

“Hey, Tempest...” says Pinkie hesitantly.

“What?” groans Tempest.

“Your hiccup's gone.”

Author's Note

So, that happened. I cannot promise more updates this quickly, since getting this out in a week-ish is very fast for me. But still expect more to come.