Knowledge of Oneself

"Intelligence is a matter of perspective, Jason. To even the most mighty of ants, the greatest genius amongst them is their Queen, and us humans are lumbering, ancient beasts with no care towards their kind as they struggle to nibble and impede our wrath. To the most mighty of humans, the greatest genius amongst them are their unrivaled inventors and discoverers, and ants are but mere insects, left to be squashed beneath our boots.

But what of something greater, Jason? Greater than humanity. Do we become the ants, desperately doing all in our power to stop the rage of something beyond us? Or are we even aware of it?" —The Dreamer

The only sounds at this moment that Jason could distinguish were one, of his own heartbeat, and two; of the breaths between the two people —rather, one person— at the scene. The other one, who had just spoken to him, was not what he would consider a human. Humans did not have fur, nor eyes that large, nor were they quadrupedal- though he could imagine some humans wearing capes and pointy hats whilst pretending to be fantastical people of mythology and distorted history.

Despite this perpetual mental self-preservation, the creature before him- a unicorn, continued its glaring. Another nightmare, he might presume, if the tapping at his chest by a stubborn hoof that felt like a hammer to styrofoam in his shocked state; eliciting a gasp of surprise as he stumbled, or crawled, rather, backwards.

"Wait! Stop this instant, you haven't answered Trixie's question—" the horse, pony, something bellowed, catching up to you but giving the benefit of a lack of physical touch. He, or She, stared down at you; taking the time to let you calm down despite their hard gaze. "—Why did you fall out of the sky and into Trixie's wagon?" she asked as though he'd have an answer.

"I- I don't..." he started to speak, shaking his head and searching his mind for answers. Jason had never experienced this before. Not in any of his nightmares, not his dreams, and especially not in any form of reality that he knew of. However, in his foggy, hazed mind slowly recoiling and recovering from the events of moments prior, one thing stood out to him.

"I crashed into your wagon?" he asked, finding the words easier to grasp that trying to explain how he crashed into it. Some 'whys' came to him, such as why a pony had a wagon, why that pony was talking to him, or why that pony possessed a horn like a unicorn from mythology would; but they were sidelined by a need to regain his bearings. Self-Preservation was far more important than environmental factors, save for if that unicorn would use its horn as a bludgeoning or stabbing tool.

"Yes! You fell from the sky and into Trixie's wagon. Trixie might consider complimenting the ape's ability to crash land if it hadn't been into her abode!" the pony exclaimed, although from what he could gather their name was almost certainly Trixie, which he'd dedicate to memory if he could; not that Trixie was making it difficult to forget; and she gave him the benefit of ending his questioning as to her gender.

"I'm only distantly related to apes, actually; and bananas, ironically,' he said halfheartedly, if only to try making light of an otherwise stressful situation. His eyes left Trixie's form and scanned as much as his head could swivel to see. To his left, he could make out the wagon he'd crashed into; splintered wood and a damaged wheel being the result of his unintentional handiwork. To his right, he could see a long dirt road the two of them were situated on extending out onto the horizon, as far as he could see and most certainly further beyond.

Surrounding the both of them, of course, was forestation and vegetation on a level he'd never had the benefit of seeing in his life- a city hound from birth to... rebirth, as the case seemed to be. He'd vaguely heard Trixie speaking, but had zoned out until his focus returned to her visage.

"—and Trixie expects you to help in immediate repairs and to help pay for them however the ape can, understood?" she asked, the glare in her eyes only slightly lessened by her cutesy bravado. It seemed her focus had diverged from why and how he'd crashed into her wagon, and instead turned into how he was going to repay her for the damage, which he could hardly complain about.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said submissively, raising his hands in a defeated manner before pushing himself to a stand; legs shaking and numb from the position he'd been in. He looked down and leaned forward to pluck his glasses from the dirt, messily cleaning them with the nape of his collar and pressing them to his eyes, addressing the blue unicorn.

"It's- uh, it's J—" he stopped himself from continuing for a single blink, taking a breath and giving Trixie a shortlived smile, "—It's Miles, by the way. Not ape," he finished, chuckling under his breath. Why was he uninjured after crashing into her wagon, why had his sanity not yet been stripped from him; assuming it wasn't gone already?

He'd read stories much like those, of people displaced into alternate worlds or realities, and he couldn't for the live of him understand how these people -savants they must be- continue to live in normalcy after having everything that gave them solace ripped from them as they were thrown into a world not their own.

Despite lacking understanding, he could admit that he wasn't a cackling, forgotten mess. There was that, at least.

"Well, then begin helping Trixie, Miles. She is not going into town with her abode and stage looking like a loony-mare's hand me down," she stated, blowing a heated breath into the curl in her hair -her mane, rather- and began... walking? Prancing? Whichever word would suffice, she made her way back to the wagon and began displacing broken splinters with a phantasmal force you couldn't fathom, turning her gaze towards you expectantly. "Well?" she asked.

Jason didn't exactly have the best internal clock so he could hardly tell just how much time had passed before Trixie was willing to accept that the wagon looked presentable enough for 'a crowd beyond his wildest machinations,' but the two of them had eventually accomplished that particular goal.

During the finishing touches, he'd finally had the confidence he needed to ask just what it was he'd been seeing; a question gnawing at the back of his mind for quite some time now.

"So, what exactly is it that you're doing?" Jason asked, eliciting a confused glare from the unicorn.

"What are you asking Trixie, Miles? Be more specific," she stated half-aggressively. She wasn't quite as demanding as she'd appeared in the beginning of your meeting, but he realized quickly it was silly of him to ask so vaguely. If it was something that was abnormal to her, he wouldn't expect her to use it so haphazardly.

"The... The lifting, the- what do they call it? The telekinesis? You're moving things without touching them with this weird energy," Jason deadpanned, shaking his head. What else could he call it? Magic? That'd be absolutely demented.

"Oh! That's magic. I suppose Trixie shouldn't have just assumed you'd know what it is, since she's never seen anything quite like you before. Us unicorns can use magic for a number of amazing and fantastical displays of skill!" Trixie exclaimed, followed by a display of what Jason could only compare to fireworks before the mare followed up on her words. "Telekinesis is only the tip of the iceberg for the Great and Powerful Trixie! Trixie's actually heading to a town to perform, although she might be a little late now," she finished with a huff, pulling a crank that seemed to bring the entire wagon to life- the structure clearly beginning to move.

Howl's Moving Castle? More like Trixie's Rolling Wagon.

In any case, his curiosity piqued. Why did they develop magic, what gave them the means to use it? Was it organic, or was their truly a mythological origin? Were they all equal, or were their prodigies among the 'magic users' of this world? Trixie seemed to notice his wayward expression given her bitten lip, but it seemed as though she decided against saying anything.

You two sat in silence for some time, your gaze taking in the details of the rolling machine. Boxes of props, and stage tools littered this main room, with simple seating present for when Trixie had 'guests,' Jason could only guess. There was a door near the back leading into what he assumed was her personal bedroom, but thought better than to ask that out of the blue. Her gaze seemed affixed to him, but she appeared to be tentative- refusing to ask or say anything out of uncertainty of perhaps fear.

Such human features and expressions from such an inhuman creature, he thought. Although he reconsidered rather quickly, deigning that it'd be a matter of raw perspective as to what should and shouldn't be considered a 'human' expression. It was a place of ignorance, of a world where the only sentient creatures his kind knew of were of others of the same species, as varied and countered to one another as they could be from time to time, of course.

He was in a similar position, of course. Every creature alive had a set of 'lines' as he called them. Lines to the amount of lies they could be told, the amount of social interactions they could have, the amount of stories they could tell, how much questioning they could take before snapping.

There was a line for every little thing in a creature's life.

It was an instinct of his to discover where these 'lines' stood for each and every person —or pony as he was learning— he met, and refrain from doing anything that could even potentially pass those limits until he figured out where and what they were. He did it for his own safety, and because if he didn't limit himself in such a manner he'd be maddening to others with his constant questioning.

His constant whys, and hows, and whos, among other things.

So he sat, limiting himself so he couldn't provoke the woman, the mare, before him. She, clearly, was in a similar state of mind, and it was a competition to see who'd break the ice first, or if they'd reach their destination before then. It wasn't something he had to think about for long, however, since before he knew it a proposition arose.

"Trixie thinks she's figured out how you can repay her, Miles."