Golden Reign

~ Equestria, The Everfree Forest ~<
January 28th, Thursday, 19:47

‎

“RRUAGH!” “GRAAAH!”

Dahlia and Crimson sprint through the darkness of the cave, shoving through an indiscernible amount of humans that reach and claw at them.

“Ack!” Dahlia sounds as something clasps her right hindleg, causing her to fall before it drags her back a few feet. “Let! Go!” She kicks and squirms.

Crimson suddenly stops in place at the sound of her distress. His attention snaps to the direction it came from.

"Remember what you are, and what you stand for. For their life, you give your own."

“Let go of me!” Dahlia cries again, flailing around blindly in an attempt to get free.

Before Crimson realizes his body is moving, it is already marching towards her. Instinct usurps his senses.

His running comes to a halt, he bends his knees, and with a powerful leap, he springs himself like a wound-up coil towards the direction of Dahlia’s voice. He tucks his head and rears up his left shoulder, blindly crashing into the perpetrator that was detaining the mare. With a successful guess, the human which held Dahlia is propelled back, smashing into the cave wall with a loud whine.

Crimson lands on both feet - his body feels terribly tense.

“Wuh... Crimson?” Dahlia utters in the blackness.

“Run!-- Grh!” he grunts, feeling something jump onto his back and sink jagged, unkempt teeth into his right trapezius.

“Cr… Crimson?” Dahlia asks again, her voice coming from the same location.

“I said MOVE!” Crimson’s deep, textured voice vibrates through the inside of the cave, further angering the humans.

With a gasp of realization, Dahlia scurries onto her hooves. Her late reaction causes her to be clutched again. Another hand reaches from the shadows and grabs her tail. "Rrmph!" she grunts, putting frustration into a powerful buck using both of her hindlegs. They collide on something squishy - the hand immediately separates.

“AARAAAH!” a male human shrieks in pain.

Dahlia recovers and begins sprinting through the cave again, leaping over and ducking under further grabs with great finesse. As she runs, she hears Crimson behind her, still fighting and shoving.

She exits the cave and enters into the humidity of the Everfree, stopping at one of many nearby trees. Panting, she turns and fixates her gaze back into the inside of the cave. The worry coating her expression slowly churns to confusion. The same stupor she experienced earlier drenches her again.

As Crimson fights to defend himself and approach the exit, she bares witnesses to his irises... glowing. A shimmering light in the midst of the shadows.

“RAUGH!”

“Ick!” Dahlia grits in her panic, spreading her wings to take off. She is too late, as a human ambushes her from behind the forest tree she stopped at and grapples her. “Grrh, damn it! Get off of me, you piece of—!” Her eyes dilate before shutting tightly. She cries out in agony as the human sinks its nails into her chest and bites down on her shirt collar.

Crimson’s attention magnetizes to the outside of the cave. His rigid stare focuses on the mare being attacked.

The humans take advantage of his stillness to hit, yank, and claw him. This, along with an overwhelming urge to aid Dahlia, enrages Crimson. His expression contorts - his nose crinkles.

His two hands clench into tight fists before he extends them out, spinning them at his sides in a double lariat. The surrounding humans are bashed away or bulldozed, some flung so far they collide onto parts of the cave wall.

After orienting himself from the twirl, his knees bend again, kicking himself into a steam-train sprint. His pupils shrink to pricks. The world around him loses focus, save for one thing.

"RAAHRH!" "HRRAAAH!"

“Mrgh! Rrrhh!” Crimson grits against the rips of his skin by unnaturally serrated nails. Still, he does not halt his cadence.

With a disregard of his own safety, he reaches a distance he deems close enough. He stops on a dime and bends his knees again, springing forward with great force. “Mrk!” he grunts from discomfort. A shocking pain travels from his overexerted calves and thighs, though the jump accomplishes its directive. He soars out of the cave, approaching his destination quickly.

Crimson's eyes narrow. Time itself seems to slow to a crawl. He focuses on the human attacking Dahlia. He soars steadily, extending his left hand while opening it in a claw-like fashion.

Then, time resumes as normal. Crimson grasps the human biting Dahlia on his forehead. Once they collide, Crimson pistons his arm to smash the human’s head against the same tree he pounced out of, painting the bark red.

Dahlia falls onto the ground, panting harshly. The human slumps over and remains motionless.

Crimson wastes no time picking up Dahlia using both arms. He chooses a random direction to sprint towards, humans howling behind them.

The heaving, discombobulated mare gazes at the man who carries her. He holds her firmly and comfortably, despite sprinting and leaping over shrubs.

A sensation begins to well inside her, one that she does not understand. It is foreign and difficult for her to comprehend, as if something beyond the physical realm was appeasing her. This sensation feels unnatural, yet she feels... safe.

She stares into his glowing, hallowed eyes. Everything around her is unfocused except for his face. Crimson sprints like a machine, panting, bruised and bleeding, but shows no signs of stopping.

Behind them, humans are still heard screeching and writhing, but they soon become distant.

‎

~~~<

‎

Crimson finally comes to a halt, heaving and sweating. The two are a mess, rinsed with blood and grime, but Crimson especially. He falls to his knees, setting Dahlia down on the forest dirt. He slouches and hangs his head as he catches his breath.

Upon being let go, the sensation Dahlia believes she is feeling fades away. The stress and weight of what just happened comes down upon her all at once. A bitter expression fixes itself onto her front, giving it to Crimson. "... You didn’t have to carry me like that, you know. I can run and fly by myself,” she utters while fixing her shirt collar.

Crimson does not bother replying just yet, still taking deep breaths while hanging his head.

His silence inadvertently draws Dahlia to study his messy, exhausted state. Her angry facade fails to maintain itself. Her expression softens, and she moves a step closer to him.

As soon as she is about to open her mouth to speak again, Crimson starts first. “What... the hell… was that... Dahlia?” he interrogates, lifting his head up to eye her sternly.

Dahlia's mouth hangs before she pouts and squints lividly. "What do you mean, ‘what the hell'!?”

“You got grabbed. Twice. Why were you so clumsy? What happened to the escape artist back there?”

“Ah--! It--!" Her face becomes flustered. "... YOU! You distracted me! It was YOUR fault!”

“’What're you talkin' about?”

“You!-- You did… something! With your eyes!”

“My-- What?"

“Don’t act stupid! Your eyes did a—a-- … a glowie thing!”

Crimson glares at her as one would a lunatic.

“You know what I’m talking about! You should know! YOU did it!” she shouts as she leans into Crimson’s face. His resting position leaves him at eye-level with the heated pony, and they bitterly eye one-another as their noses nearly press together.

“I seriously don’t know what you’re fuckin' talkin' about. Glowie thing?”

Dahlia sighs and backs away, letting out an exaggerated grunt of annoyance. “Your eyes! They did a glowie thing! They started glowing in the cave. Then when you saved me outside the cave. … And when you started running. They were glowing golden or something.” She gawks into Crimson’s normal, hazel eyes as they currently are.

Crimson looks terribly confused and aggravated, but remains silent. Dahlia shakes her head, letting her ears fall. “… Whatever, keep your secrets. Not like you’re gonna be around for much longer anyway,” she grumbles quietly, looking away from his slouched form.

The man sucks in a deep breath, assembling his patience. “I actually don’t know what yer talkin’ about, Deedee. ‘Glowie eyes' just ain't ringin' any bells.”

“… Just drop it,” she utters through a sigh. Both of them look away from each other, unspeaking. The sounds of nature swallow the conversation. They remain to themselves in order to think, but fail to think of anything. They both stare at the ground with an awkward tension surrounding them.

Fortunately, it does not last long. Dahlia’s eyes open wide and her ears stand straight. She reaches into her shirt pocket with a forming smile. “At least we got this,” she says, staring at the orange orb she’s now holding in her hoof.

Crimson looks at it, still lacking any motivation to react.

Dahlia glances between him and the relic once, losing motivation again. “… Let’s start heading back. Sun’s gonna dip soon." She pockets the relic again and turns away from him.

Crimson looks up at the sky through the dense forestry. It’s orange and amber - the beautiful painting that is the atmosphere. He rises to his feet once Dahlia starts to move. His bones pop and he grunts, feeling his body complain about the abuse it just took.

They trek back to the lodge, uttering no words during whole walk.

‎

~~~<

‎

With Dahlia’s self-proclaimed star sense of direction, they trek through the forest and trip back to the front of the temple to retrieve her saddlebags. Thereafter, they trail back to her lodge.

The duo cross the stone path over the steadily flowing river that lies just past the forestry, walking up the porch and finally entering the lodge. Dahlia huffs some stress and exhaustion out, letting her saddlebags fall onto the ground next to the door. She walks off immediately towards the restroom, and Crimson moves over to the stool where he ate breakfast, sitting on it backwards and resting his elbows on the counter top.

Shortly after, Dahlia returns with a clean white cloth and an unlabeled bottle. Crimson lifts his left eyebrow, being familiar with this combination of articles.

“C’mere,” Dahlia calls, looking at Crimson. He exhales, just now getting comfortable on the stool. He rises reluctantly and walks over to her. “Take your shirt off," she points to the brown torn-up rag that covers parts of his torso. "Was there anywhere else you got got?”

“Nah, just above the waist luckily,” he replies, tossing his ragged, bloody shirt on the ground. He crouches down, getting on one knee and letting his arms drop to his sides. Dahlia uncaps the bottle, using her wings to methodically tilt it against the cloth to get it soaked.

“Don’t cry now,” Dahlia says before pressing the cloth against the many scratches that paint Crimson’s chest.

“Mh. Try not to enjoy touchin' me too much.”

Dahlia pretends to gag. She retracts the cloth and slaps one of his scratches with the cloth as a sign of displeasure.

Crimson grunts and closes his eyes, letting the pain run its course as his wound sizzles and simmers.

Dahlia glances at his eyes. They stay closed as she tends to him. She keeps looking at them, hoping they pry open at some point to show her what she wants to see.

Still, his eyes remain closed. She pouts slightly, continuing to clean his wounds.

Crimson puckers his lips when she cleans the gnarly bite on his right trapezius. The alcohol works itself deep into the damaged tissue.

Several minutes pass of the little tan mare rubbing his wounds. Once finished, she tilts her head back and scans him with her eyes. “There, that’s all of ‘em,” she announces, holding the bottle and cloth out for Crimson. "There were a lot more scratches on you than I expected. You're really bad at taking care of yourself."

"Says you."

She rolls her eyes. "Here," she shakes the bottle and cloth, asserting again that she wants to give them to him.

He takes them into his hands, and Dahlia moves to take off her shirt. “… What’re you doin’?” he asks.

“What does it look like? You're cleaning my wounds next. Talk about not getting the hint,” she gripes while dropping her dirty, blood-stained shirt on the wooden floor.

“But you ain’t got any wounds,” he states as he looks across her chest and neck.

“Ch, are you blind? I got bit like right-- …” Dahlia looks down at her chest, puffing it out for display. Her muzzle scrunches from bewilderment, seeing her body undamaged where she was previously injured. “I… I got bit right here. I know I did. That human stuck me with his nails and bit me.”

Crimson bares witness to scarred, yet already healing skin on Dahlia’s chest and neck where she was attacked. The fur from those spots is ruffled or gone and needs to grow back, so it is apparent she did get hurt.

He sets the bottle and cloth down, then reaches out towards Dahlia’s chest, gently touching the healing skin. No bleeding, no internally exposed flesh.

Dahlia moves her eyes away from him, her ears rest flat when touched by his hand. She feels it again - that same feeling from before. A sense of ease. It returns when he makes physical contact with her, but it fades when he retracts his fingers. The soothing warmth escapes once again.

“Well this certainly means somethin’,” Crimson declares, holding his chin. “You were just makin’ excuses.” She gasps deeply, eyes dilating to grains of sand. "Ripe to think you weren't even scratched through that whole deal."

“WHAT!?” Dahlia presses her muzzle against his nose, her bright magenta eyes burning with fury.

Crimson smiles and rears his head back a bit. "Hey, hey, I was just kiddin'." Dahlia huffs some air onto his face through her nose, still very upset at the sudden prodding. The man looks at her fading wounds again with a more serious air. “I know you aren’t lyin’ cuz yer shirt’s got blood on it, blood exactly where that bastard bit you.”

Dahlia visibly calms down and her eyes drop to the ground, down at her shirt. She huffs a breath with enough strength to blow her ruffled mane away from her face. “… This is all so weird...” She trails off, moving her attention towards the relic that rolled out a few inches from her shirt pocket. She contemplates something in her head before letting it come out of her mouth, "... Y'know, you were chill about everything that was happening back there."

"... Chill?" he tilts his head at the odd lingo.

"Yeah, y'know? Like, relaxed? Unfazed?"

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so?' Those humans were really ripping at you, and you didn't even care. You just came for me instead."

"F'course. You were in danger."

"Don't give me that. You were too."

"I couldn't stand there 'n let you get mauled."

Dahlia's brows furrow as she lifts her gaze to meet his. "You literally just met me. You fucking jump on me and scare the shit out of me, then you go and save my life?"

He nods, raising his left brow to indicate her lack of a coherent argument.

Dahlia breathes out in frustration. "How are you so calm about this? You're such an ass, but you go and save my life? I mean, who meets someone and nearly kills themselves trying to help them?" She squints dubiously at him. "... What's your agenda?"

"You expectin' answers or were those rhetorical?"

"..." Dahlia doesn't respond to his counter-question, opting to look away from him instead.

Seeing as she does not come up with an answer, he does it for her. "... I've spent my whole life just tryin' to get by. You say calm? I say engaged. I try not to let things that would bother most people bother me, especially in a fight. Wouldn't be alive today if I did. ... As for your second question, I'm an ass when required. You've learned right quick about that. Though, I wouldn't call helping someone who's in life-threatening danger an act of kindness. Just common courtesy - somethin' that should be done regardless of care for that person. For yer third question, me. That's who. ... And what's with that last question? What're you even gettin' at? 'What's my agenda'?"

"Self-explanatory," Dahlia remarks harshly.

"If it was as black 'n white as you're makin' it out to be, I wouldn't have felt the need to ask you for clarification."

"Huugh," she exaggerates a groan. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"Be great if you did."

"... I know your kind," Dahlia turns herself, giving him her left side.

"... Yeah?"

"Yeah! Your kind is the kind I hate the most. The nice guys. The ones that try too hard to please just to get something out of you. The ones that make it seem like they're on your side so they can turn around, pull you down, and push themselves up when it matters most. Just like when you jumped at me. You're nice enough to save me, but shitty enough to kill me when it's good for you."

Crimson leans his face towards her. "... You're accusin' me of being this type of person on what basis?"

"I'm not stupid. You've ended a lot of lives. You even admitted it. I'm sure you lived a dirty life. No one goes through a situation like you just did and walks away from it without a second thought, unless they've lived a dirty life. And judging by your attitude, you fit the bill. At least lions make it abundantly clear they wanna eat you before they do."

"I knew someone just like yer describin'. I'd rather be dead than be like him." Dahlia continues to look away from him, chin held high as she only gives him the left side of her face. Crimson's tense brows soften and raise, giving him a less critical front. "... Listen. If tellin' you what I've been through will help convince you I ain't what you think I am, I'm happy to do it. You just need to ask."

"Like explaining everything would make a difference. You'd probably lie, just like they all do."

"Deedee, I don't have an agenda. I saved you back there because you were in danger. Because you saved me from dyin' like a stray animal yesterday. And because you're willin' to take a gamble on me by lettin' me tag around. You could have just let me wander off, letting me do god-knows-what until I got completely lost. But you didn't. You decided to help me out. That right there was an act of kindness, even if you're hard in admitting it. I may have just met you, I may have snapped at you, but that don't mean I can't care fer you. I know you're real pissed off about me jumpin' you, but you need to understand I ain't the type of man to take disrespect like you done. You won't ever need to bare somethin' like that again as long as you respect me - give the same respect I have fer you."

Dahlia remains hardened, finding something interesting to look at outside of the window instead.

Crimson follows her gaze, looking out to the setting sun outside. "... My dad 'n my brother died when I was young. My mother died just before my eighteenth birthday. Once you're able to get over somethin' like that, lots of shit doesn't bother you much anymore. Maybe I am a little too 'chill' on certain matters, but... ah well. I don't mean it to bother you none. I've killed people because of a gang my family had ties to. Never for money. Their vendetta against my family provoked me to kill my first man. I don't take pride in having ended peoples' lives, even if the people I killed were scum."

The tan mare continues to keep her mouth closed, but Crimson can tell she's actively listening.

"... Deedee," he murmurs her name while looking to her. Her magenta orbs move to meet his, but then move away shortly after. "You seem oddly familiar with 'my type.' The conniving, back-stabbin' type. Got a suspicion that you weren't always the way you are now. Just like me. Maybe yer past was rough, just like mine. We've gotten on each other's nerves to the nth extent since we've met, but I reckon there's a reason for it."

Her eyes drop to the ground morosely.

"... If there's anythin' you want to talk about, I'm more than willing to listen. Another set of ears can do wonders for the soul."

She squints, her expression mixes oddly between being bothered and being solemn. Her mouth opens to say something, but it re-closes without uttering a word.

"... How was it like growin' up fer you, Deedee? What was your family like?"

She stays quiet for a moment, leaving both of them to brew in a heavy silence. “... I don't want to talk about it.”

"... If you ever do, I'm here to listen."

"I won't. Just forget about it, okay?" She fixes her bitter eyes onto his. "If all of that was just a long-winded apology for jumping me, then fine. I accept your apology. Now can we stop with this soft shit?"

"If that's what you want."

"It is. Because we're going to need to be focused. We've got a big day tomorrow." The tone of her voice becomes more lively and usual.

“Game plan already made?”

“Yup. We’re heading to fancy-land Canterlot tomorrow, home of the snobs and asses."

"What for?"

"We’re going there to sell off this relic. An egghead there will probably take it off my hooves. They're suckers for these types of things.”

Crimson nods in acknowledgement. Dahlia spreads her wings and flaps them, giving them a stretch before explaining further. He looks at her wings as they splay out to their full length. He finds them to be well preened and oddly beautiful. The idea that these feathered appendages are attached to a pony confuses him, though most of that confusion comes from acknowledging how perfectly they fit her and her body.

“We’ll be up just before sunrise to head to the junction," Dahlia instructs. "The train station is there, and that train only makes two trips down here every day. We aren’t waiting till the evening to catch the train. Got it?”

“Sure,” Crimson replies, getting up onto his feet. “So, uh... any place I can get a shower ’r somethin’? Saw that the restroom in there don't got a basin or a tub.”

“Just take a dip in the river outside. It's what I do."

“Mm, that explains yer smell."

Dahlia scoffs and begins walking, ensuring she hits his thigh with a good bit of force behind it as she passes by him to head towards the restroom.

She gets a smirk from her verbal oppressor. Crimson himself makes his own path towards the front door, stepping out and stripping down for his nature-bath.

‎

~~~<

‎

After air-drying for half an hour under the moonlight, getting his shorts and flip-flops on, and enjoying the night-time air for a moment longer, he stammers up the porch to return to the lodge.

Dahlia had joined him briefly in the river bath, but announced she was too tired to stay in for very long. She did not speak much when she was there, and she had retreated to the lodge much before him.

He opens the door, finger-combing his hair back to add some semblance of appearance to his form. He sees the little tan mare, her mane and tail a scraggly mess, asleep on the big couch. She has her shirt on again, cleaned from blood and dirt. She rests with her body forming a half-moon as her chin rests just before the cushion’s edge. An actual, normal horse position. At least, one he is familiar with.

Seeing as the only resting place fit enough for him has been taken, and not wanting to invade her bed, he walks over to the coffee table propped in the middle of the living room. He comes down and lies next to it.

He cannot see Dahlia from this position, so the next best thing is the ceiling. He stares at it, as he himself splays out on the wooden floor. His eyes slowly close, feeling heavier and heavier every passing second. He knows he will not get good sleep, but he will make an honest attempt.

"... I miss you so much..."

‎

‎

‎

~ The Everfree Forest, Dahlia's Cabin ~<
January 29th, Friday, 5:33

‎

Dahlia’s eyes slowly flutter open. She sits up, rubbing her eyes with her hoof and letting out a yawn.

“Sleep well?”

“Nh?” Dahlia looks towards the voice. Crimson sits on the single-cushion couch, barely fitting in it. “Nh,” she hums again before letting out a yawn. "You’re up early." Her brows raise in mild surprise as she scans his bedraggled face. "Huh. Or by the looks of it, you didn’t even sleep at all.”

Crimson blinks slowly. “It’s that obvious?”

“Very. I hope you don’t pass out on me while we’re on the move. Last thing I need is to drag you around for several more miles. No thank you.” She shakes her head, swinging her hoof with it. Once she returns her gaze to him, a more sympathetic energy takes her expression, "You look awful, Crim. Seriously. Are you okay?"

“Don’t worry about me,” he assures, standing up and stretching his back. He throws his hand over his mouth as it falls agape for a big yawn. "Ah be fahn.”

Dahlia hops off the couch, throwing her flank into the air and flicking her tail as she too stretches her back. With some bones popping, she wiggles her body and stands up straight, exhaling deeply through her nose. Her eyes glance quickly to the man, who has his orbs plastered on her stretching figure. “… Staring is rude, you know.”

Crimson removes his eyes off her, his direction finding something interesting on the wall.

“Ch. Typical humans.” She shakes her head and she struts towards the kitchen, getting her saddlebags when she passes by the front door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart guy right? Figure it out,” she says with a smirk, packing some things into the bags from the preserving bin. The man blows her prodding off.

Upon getting her items situated, she tosses her saddlebags onto her back and trots to the front door. She takes the collar left on the floor into her mouth and stands before Crimson. She hops onto her hindlegs, with her forelegs planted on his abdomen.

Crimson is taken by her touchy action, but does not overtly show his surprise. He leans down so she may reach his neck. “Shouldn't I get my shirt back on first?” he asks, ensuring not to look directly at her.

Dahlia doesn’t answer immediately. She straps the collar on and sets it firmly. “No time. Shorts and flip-flops. All you need. Besides, you look better without it on anyway,” she comments as she hops off him and walks to the door. She opens it, walking out quickly so she doesn't have to deal with any potential replies.

“… Was that a compliment?”

She pretends not to hear him, threatening to leave him behind by not stopping her lighthearted march. With the rolling of his eyes, he trails behind her and shuts the door.

The two make their trek to Dodge through the forest path. It is still dark out as the sun barely peeks its head over the east horizon. Crimson finds the walk quiet and rather peaceful. The air between him and the little mare at his side feels warmer than usual.

Once they make it out of the forest, Dahlia leads Crimson along the railroad track west. He sees a small train station out in the distance.

After arriving at the station, the sun has poked itself over the horizon. The station itself has no other ponies present, leaving it eerily empty.

Dahlia stops, leash in her hoof, now standing before the ticket pony who is half asleep inside the kiosk. She reaches into her shirt pocket and slides ten gold coins into the kiosk slot. “One adult and one pet,” she says firmly.

The ticket stallion looks towards Crimson, raising an eyebrow in an uninterested manner. His look changes to one of skepticism and surprise upon getting a better look at him.

“… Ahem?” Dahlia sounds impatiently.

The ticket pony’s eyes widen in realization, removing his awestruck eyes from the towering human. He reaches under his desk, retrieving two tickets before passing them through the same slot. "Here you go, ma'am," the ticket pony utters with his flimsy voice. "You're just in time. Train will be here in about a minute."

Dahlia takes her tickets with a smile. She turns and walks with Crimson towards the edge of the platform. She diligently looks to the north horizon, seeing a figure approaching from the distance. “Right on schedule,” she whispers.

Crimson looks off to his left to see an oddly shaped train approaching at a high speed. Once it nears the station, it slows down until it comes to a halt, stopping with a loud steam-exhausting whine.

The doors open. A well-dressed unicorn mare, attractive in appearance, stands at the entrance. Dahlia approaches, giving her the two tickets. The mare takes them with her magic, ripping them both in half and pocketing them. She nods, signaling entrance to Dahlia and whatever pet she has.

The mare could not see what the leash held from where she was standing, so once Dahlia enters and the towering human looms in from behind, the attendant’s eyes shoot open. She backpedals two steps, with Crimson glaring boredly at her. “… Eh... ehehe. G-… Good human?” The mare's quivering voice accompanies trembling body.

Crimson stops to simply glare at her. He moves when the collar is tugged lightly, catching up to Dahlia.

“Can you not do that?" she whispers scoldingly.

He blinks slowly in response.

"I don’t care how much fun it is, don’t be doing that."

She moves to the very front of the train cart. There is no pony else around except an ancient looking stallion who is deeply asleep right next to the boarding door. Everything else is up for grabs.

Dahlia points for Crimson to sit down first. He does so, taking the window seat and looking out to the odd desert and forest combination just outside. Dahlia moves in and sits next to him, taking the outer seat. Their sides press against each other, Crimson being too big just for his side of the seat.

A moment of silence passes, then the train whistle choos out their departure. The train slowly starts to move again, taking a wide U-turn on the tracks ahead to turn around and head towards the north of Equestria.

Without warning, Dahlia leans herself on Crimson's side, resting her head on his left shoulder. Her eyes are already shut by the time he can glance at her. He spends a second or two eyeing her, to which she does not bother to look back.

He leaves her be and looks to his left, giving attention to the world outside the window.

Crimson’s eyes feel heavy very suddenly. The solace of sleep offers him an unexpected invitation. Hardly being able to sleep last night, he thinks he should catch up on some of it.

He rests his head against the window, careful not to disturb Dahlia, and closes his eyes. He assumes she will just wake up before him and shake him aware if anything happens.